Damian
I stared out through the sparkling glass walls of my office, coffee in hand, admiring the sprawl of the city below. It was breathtaking—stunning enough to draw a groan of satisfaction from deep inside me.
Perched on the topmost floor of the skyscraper, I felt euphoric. The sight of the world reduced to ants crawling far beneath me—oblivious, insignificant—always reminded me of one thing:
I was a king.
Turning away from the glass, I let my eyes wander to the only solid corner of the room. Marble walls framed a single painting: clouds drifting across a blue sky, waves pounding against a restless sea. Setting my mug down on the thick glass table, I moved closer, fingers brushing over the canvas as I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath.
I wasn't an art lover. Not usually. But this painting had its uses.
For a man with a temper like mine, it was supposed to be calming. Supposed to.
But today, it wasn't working.
Because a little girl had just texted me to go fuck myself.
The audacity.
I am Damien Vanguard—CEO of CodeX, one of the most powerful tech companies in the world, and one of the richest bachelors alive. I am the man women dream of and men envy. Celebrities claw to seduce me, models degrade themselves for my attention. And yet, for the first time, when I make the move, I get slapped in the face with rejection.
And worse—by her.
A girl with a pretty face and zero social skills. A girl wrapped in a holy, stay-away-from-me aura. A girl who looked like she'd rather fuck a textbook than a man.
Irina Dawson.
Her name was burned into me now. Not because of desire—because of pride. I don't tolerate blemishes. And she was one.
Which meant only one thing.
Irina Dawson would end up in my bed.
One way or another.
There was a knock at the door. Today, even that sound grated against my nerves.
"Come in," I snapped.
The door slid open slowly, revealing two women.
The blonde was soft temptation—golden hair framing a cute face, eyes that sparkled, breasts full and high, a perky ass that begged for attention. The brunette, though, was fire incarnate—an hourglass body made to ignite lust, hips swaying with deliberate rhythm, eyes promising sin and the skill to deliver it.
Normally, either of them would have been enough. Together, they were intoxicating.
But I wasn't after pleasure. I needed release—an outlet for the fury burning through me.
I dropped into a swivel chair, stretching my arms wide like a monarch receiving tribute.
"Bolt the door," I commanded, my voice sharp as steel. "And strip."
No hesitation. The blonde obeyed instantly, locking the door with a soft click. Both of them peeled their clothes away, baring pale skin and lace.
They stood in their underwear—white fabric clinging to their curves, breasts swelling against thin bras, nipples already hard and straining. Their movements were a performance, a deliberate tease, and a visible bulge had already stirred in my trousers.
"What are your names?" I asked, voice low.
"Jasmine Wood," the brunette purred, her tone dripping like honey.
"Alyssa Norman," the blonde whispered shyly.
I leaned forward, lips curling into a cold smile. "Nice names. But I'm not interested in names. I'm interested in fucking you. Both of you. Get over here."
They moved at once, eager. Alyssa leaned down first, her lips capturing mine in a hot, eager kiss. Her tongue was soft, slender, slick as it danced against mine, her kiss both shy and desperate. Jasmine knelt before me, fingers already at my belt. The hiss of a zipper filled the room, followed by the heat of her hand wrapping around me.
A groan escaped my throat as her lips closed over my length, wet heat sliding down me in waves of sinful pleasure. The sound of her mouth working—wet, slopping, greedy—filled the office.
My cock hardened fully, pulsing with every stroke, every swirl of her tongue.
Meanwhile, Alyssa unclipped her bra with trembling fingers. Her breasts spilled free—full, supple, perfect. I seized them both, kneading roughly, squeezing until she moaned. My lips found a nipple, tongue flicking over it again and again until she cried out softly, pulling my head tighter against her chest.
Her body trembled beneath my touch, but I was relentless—licking, sucking, molding her breasts with a hunger that made her shiver. I dragged my tongue down her stomach, tasted her skin, then returned to her breast, biting gently until she whimpered.
Below, Jasmine's pace quickened, her mouth devouring me with obscene sounds. The coil of release tightened inside me.
"I'm going to cum," I growled, voice strained.
Moments later, the dam broke. Hot streams spilled into her mouth, and Jasmine swallowed greedily, lips never leaving me, eyes glinting with mischief as she swallowed every drop. That smile—filthy and victorious—nearly made me hard again on the spot.
Impatient, I stood, shrugging off my jacket and shirt in one fluid motion. My cock, thick and throbbing, strained upward again. I reached into my cabinet, tore open a condom, and slid it on with practiced ease.
Both girls had already shed their panties. Alyssa trembled as I dragged her close, lifting her easily by the waist. Her arms wrapped around my neck, her legs locked around me, and her lips crashed back onto mine with raw need.
Her slickness brushed against me, hot and wet. I teased her, sliding the tip of my cock across her entrance, her whimpers begging me for more.
"Are you ready?" I asked, voice sharp.
"Just—come in already," she moaned, hoarse with desire.
With one violent thrust, I entered her.
Her scream filled the office.
She was tight—so tight, so hot—that I nearly lost control immediately. I drove into her again, harder, faster, until her nails dug into my shoulders and her cries of ecstasy echoed off the glass walls.
The sound of skin meeting skin, the wet slopping rhythm of our bodies colliding, filled the room. She ground against me desperately, her whole body quivering as she clung to me like a drowning woman.
Moments later, her climax ripped through her, body shaking violently as she cried out my name. I followed instantly, spilling deep inside her, my thrusts slowing as she collapsed against me, limp and gasping.
Carefully, I carried her to the plush blue sofa, laying her down to recover.
But I wasn't finished.
Jasmine had been watching in silence, impatience blazing in her eyes.
I stalked toward her, grabbed her by the waist, and pinned her against the wall. My hands roamed over her ass, squeezing, pinching, shaping the flesh until she moaned out her need.
Her voice—seductive, sinful—stirred me all over again.
I slid her legs up around my waist, ready to take her—when a sharp knock cracked through the tension.
"Get out!" I snarled, voice a whipcrack of fury.
"Master," Adrien's muffled voice came through the door. "The Tenefrost program launches in five minutes. The shareholders are requesting you."
Of all the fucking times.
"Bring me clothes," I barked.
"They're here, Master."
Behind me, the women were already dressing. I didn't even glance their way as I pulled myself together, voice cold and cutting.
"You're finished. Leave."
Alyssa hesitated, lips parting as if she wanted to say something, but Jasmine grabbed her arm and pulled her out. Good. Attachment was weakness.
Adrien entered with a neatly folded black suit in hand. I dressed in silence, knotting the tie with precision. Business had reclaimed me. Lust was over.
***
Adrien walked beside me as we left the office, his footsteps a little too hesitant for my liking. He had that look, the one that told me he was about to ruin my mood.
"Master," he began carefully, "the team ran another scan on Tenefrost this morning."
I didn't slow down, but my jaw tightened. "And?"
"They found a bug."
That stopped me. I turned, my glare freezing him mid-step. "A bug. And where is it now?"
He swallowed hard. "It... disappeared."
I took a step closer, my voice low, dangerous. "Disappeared on its own? And you're standing here telling me that isn't a problem?"
Adrien shifted uncomfortably. "It wasn't stable, Master. Just a glitch. It came and went before the team could even pin it down. Nothing serious."
Nothing serious.
I almost laughed. Bugs don't vanish into thin air. Glitches don't walk out the door. Someone had been there. Someone had poked around my project, tested its skin, then slipped back into the shadows satisfied.
I said nothing more, though the instinct was gnawing at me like acid. If I delayed the launch now, CodeX would take a hit to its credibility that we might never recover from. And my pride... no, my empire... didn't take hits.
The elevator doors opened at the end of the hallway. Two guards flanking it straightened instantly, bowing as they stepped aside. Adrien and I entered, and I pressed the key to the Basement—the one floor that mattered more than all the others combined.
The doors slid open into a cavern of light and sound. The Basement was alive. A massive table stretched across the center, lined with laptops, tablets, and glowing digital panels. Men in tuxedos murmured in low voices, women's laughter bubbled up like champagne in the corners.
Half of it was about me—I could feel it. I was used to it.
But as I stepped in, silence fell like a command. Conversations cut short. Eyes turned. The kind of pause that made the air heavy.
Good.
I strode to the far end of the table and sank into the chair reserved for me, legs crossing, fingers drumming lazily on the armrest.
"How long until launch?" I asked, my gaze fixed straight ahead.
"Two minutes, sir," Marcos replied. His bald head gleamed under the light, his sharp eyes calculating as ever. I didn't like the man. Not because he wasn't competent—he was. But because he'd been sniffing too close to my sister's affairs, funding her little projects like he had something to gain.
And his daughter—pathetic thing—had once thrown herself at me in a hotel lobby. I hadn't even needed to touch her; a single glance, a single smirk, and she'd nearly collapsed into my lap. It was amusing. Too amusing. And exactly why I could never take Marcos seriously. Any man whose family was that weak would never truly be my equal.
I leaned back, tapping a finger against my jaw as if bored. "We can get some things done first. Shawn," I called, not even turning toward him. "Prepare a public statement in case Tenefrost doesn't launch. If we're overrun, it goes out instantly."
The room broke into chaos.
"What?!"
"Sir, that's impossible!"
"Tenefrost is flawless, both backend and frontend tested thousands of times!"
"Why would it fail?"
I let the uproar wash over me for a few seconds, then cut it down with a scoff.
"I didn't say it would fail. I'm saying you're blind not to consider the obvious." My voice cut like a blade, every word deliberate. "A bug appeared on our system this morning and vanished. That wasn't a glitch. That was someone knocking at the door, testing our defenses. The worst-case scenario—they'll crash our launch just to humiliate us. The best-case—it was a prank. But I don't believe in best-cases. Not in my world."
The silence that followed was heavier than steel.
Lily finally spoke, cautious. "Sir, Tenefrost has been checked a thousand times. There's no way it could be breached that easily. It must've just been—"
"Damien's intuition is never wrong," Adam cut her off harshly, glaring. "Don't tell me you don't know something that basic, you old hag."
"You bastard!" Lily snapped, half rising from her chair.
"Enough," I said. One word, and the room froze again.
"How long?" I asked, my gaze shifting to Salvatore.
"Twenty seconds, sir." His voice trembled just slightly.
I placed my hand on the red button embedded at the head of the table. My eyes flicked up to the giant screen mounted on the wall, already ticking down the last seconds.
The entire room held its breath.
Ten. Nine. Eight.
Everyone counted together, voices low, like some kind of ritual chant.
Three. Two. One.
I pressed.
The screen blinked. Then glitched.
The lights flickered, dimmed, flared. The air itself seemed to stutter, and for a second, silence filled the Basement like a vacuum. Then the screen went black.
I exhaled slowly. "As expected."
Panic broke instantly.
"Who dares hack us?!"
"This is CodeX, not some student project!"
"Our firewalls are supposed to be unbreakable!"
"Salvatore, what are your people doing?!
Explain this!"
The table rattled with fists and shouts. Salvatore's name flew around the room like venom. But the man himself sat frozen, hunched over his tablet, eyes darting wildly across his screen, hands trembling.
"Salvatore." My voice was calm, but every syllable carried the weight of a loaded gun. "Based on the code signatures, who is it?"
For a moment he didn't answer. He just stared at his screen as if the letters were bleeding onto him. Finally, he raised his head, his face white as marble.
"It's... Apparition," he whispered, voice breaking. "The Midnight Devil."
The room collapsed into stunned silence. No one moved. No one breathed.
But me? My pulse hammered against my ribs. Fury coiled in my chest, sharp and volcanic.
I slammed my hands against the table and roared, my voice shaking the walls.
"WHO THE HELL PROVOKED THAT MONSTER?!"