Élise Moreau only went to the party to confront the bastard who destroyed her sister.

Damien Lefèvre was supposed to be the enemy. The cold, arrogant billionaire who used her sister and left her broken. Élise planned to slap him, humiliate him, and walk away.

Instead, she ended up bent over his desk with her dress shoved up around her waist while he f****d her hard from behind.

He gripped her hips, drove his thick c**k deep inside her soaked p***y, and made her take every rough thrust until she was moaning into her own arm. He flipped her onto the leather couch, spread her thighs wide, and ate her out until she was shaking and dripping down his chin. Then he pinned her wrists above her head and f****d her slow and deep, grinding against her c**t with every stroke until she came so hard she saw stars.

That should have been the end.

But Damien wasn’t finished.

He kept coming back.
He kept bending her over.
He kept filling her, marking her, and ruining her for anyone else.

Élise hated how wet she got every time he touched her. She hated how hard she came when he ordered her to take it deeper. She hated that the man who broke her sister’s heart was the only one who could f**k her the way she needed - rough, relentless, and completely without mercy.

Now the only question left is how long she can keep this filthy secret before everything burns.