Damian Cross leaned back against the silk sheets of his penthouse bed, staring at the ceiling as the city lights flickered through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The woman beside him-he couldn't even remember her name-sighed in contentment, trailing her fingers down his chest. But he felt nothing.
It was always the same. Different women, different nights, the same emptiness. She shifted closer, whispering something seductive in his ear, but he barely listened.
He had already given her what she wanted- his body, his wealth, his time. And yet, he got nothing in return. No satisfaction. No release from the gnawing void inside him.
With a sigh, Damian swung his legs over the bed, reaching for his glass of whiskey on the nightstand. The liquid burned as it went down, but it did nothing to silence the thoughts in his head. What the hell is wrong with me?
He had indulged in every fantasy, pushed every limit, yet nothing seemed to quench the hunger inside him. Maybe he was broken. Maybe no woman could satisfy him.
And then, that night, he met her.
She wasn't like the others. She didn't just take off her clothes and let him have his way. No, she commanded the moment, taking control in a way that made his breath hitch.
On that couch-just a simple couch-
she did things that no woman had ever
done to him before. She showed him what pleasure truly meant, made him feel something real for the first time in his life.
And for the first time, Damian Cross
groaned-not out of frustration, but out of
something far deeper.
The Woman Who Changed
Everything
The club pulsed with low, sultry music,
wrapping the dimly lit space in an
atmosphere of raw temptation. Damian
Cross sat in his private booth, whiskey
glass in hand, eyes scanning the room with the same detached boredom he always felt.
Women paraded before him-models,
Socialites, women who knew his name, his wealth, and exactly what he could give them for a night. They leaned in close, whispering promises of pleasure in his ear.
Empty words. Empty nights.
He was about to leave when she walked in. She moved like she owned the room, her presence more commanding than any woman he'd ever seen. She wasn't the kind of beauty that tried too hard-there was something effortless about her.
A confidence that needed no validation. She locked eyes with him, and for the first time in years, Damian felt something stir insidebhim that wasn't boredom. She smirked, as if she could see through him. You think you've had it all? her gaze seemed to say. You haven't had me. Curious.
She came closer, stopping just before him, her voice as smooth as silk. "You look like a who has everything. And yet.." She tilted her head, studying him with an almost playful glint in her eyes.
"You look unsatisfied"
Damian's jaw clenched. No one had ever said it out loud before.
"Who are you?" he asked, intrigued.
She leaned in, close enough that he could smell the faintest hint of vanilla and sin on her skin. "Someone who knows what you need."
His grip on his whiskey glass tightened.
Women always threw themselves at him, desperate to please. But she-she carried herself differently. There was no
desperation. No eagerness to impress. She knew something he didn't.
"Show me," he murmured.
A slow smile curved her lips. "Follow me."
The Couch That Changed Everything
The hotel suite was bathed in golden light, casting shadows along the sleek leather couch in the center of the room. Damian had taken countless women to bed, had explored pleasure in ways most men never would-but tonight, there was no bed.
Just a couch.
She guided him to it, her movements
deliberate, her confidence unwavering.
"Sit," she instructed, and for once, Damian listened.
The air crackled with anticipation as she
straddled him, not just with her body, but with an undeniable presence that wrapped around him like a slow, burning fuse.
"You think you've felt pleasure," she
whispered, running her fingers along the
collar of his shirt before easing it open. "But you've only scratched the surface."
His breath hitched. There was something different about this-about her. The way she took control, the way she made him feel powerless in the best possible way. And then, she showed him.
Not just with her body, but with a skill so
precise, so intoxicating, that Damian
Cross-billionaire, womanizer, a man who had everything-felt himself unravel in ways he never had before.
For the first time in his life, he wasn't
chasing pleasure. He was experiencing it. And when he finally groaned, it wasn't out of frustration. It was surrender.
A New Obsession
Damian Cross had never been the type to linger. He didn't chase, didn't crave, didn't need. Women came and went like an endless cycle, their faces blurring into one another.
But tonight, he wasn't leaving.
He sat on the couch, his breath uneven, his shirt open, his body still humming from what she had done to him. But more than that, something in his chest ached. It wasn't just satisfaction—no, it was something deeper. Something dangerous.
She stood, her eyes dancing with mischief as she adjusted the thin strap of her dress. "Satisfied?"
Damian swallowed, staring at her like she was an illusion. He should've been done, ready to leave this behind like all the others. Instead, he found himself gripping her wrist before she could walk away.
"What's your name?" His voice was lower than he intended, rougher.
She arched a brow. "Names ruin the fun."
"I don't like mysteries."
She smirked. "Then you're in trouble, Mr. Cross. Because I am a mystery."
She pulled away easily, slipping into the dim light of the suite. He could've let her go—should've let her go. But instead, he found himself doing something unthinkable.
He stood.
She paused at the door, sensing his movement. "You're not like the others," he muttered, his voice betraying the confusion in his own mind. "You didn't just want my money. You didn't even ask."
She turned, and for the first time, her playful confidence faltered—just for a second. "You think money is all I care about?" Her eyes flickered with something unreadable before she masked it again. "You have a lot to learn, billionaire."
With that, she disappeared into the night, leaving Damian standing there, something foreign stirring deep inside him.
He wanted more.
For the first time in years, he wanted more.
The Search Begins
Damian wasn't a man who got attached. He wasn't a man who needed. And yet, two nights later, he found himself sitting in that same club, scanning the crowd, searching for her.
The thought should've irritated him. What was he doing? Chasing after a woman? He had never chased anyone in his life.
But she had done something to him. Touched something deeper than just skin.
And he couldn't let it go.
A familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Looking for someone, Cross?"
Damian turned to see his longtime friend and business associate, Vincent Hale, smirking as he slid into the booth.
"No," Damian lied, swirling the whiskey in his glass.
Vincent chuckled. "Right. Because you always sit here alone, looking like you've been wrecked by a woman."
Damian's grip tightened on his glass. "Don't start."
Vincent leaned back, amused. "This is a first. The untouchable Damian Cross actually wants someone." He studied Damian for a moment before shaking his head. "Do yourself a favor. If she got to you this much, walk away now. Nothing good ever comes from needing someone."
Damian exhaled slowly, knowing Vincent was probably right.
But that was the problem.
He didn't want to need her.
But he did.
And he was going to find her.
No matter what it takes.