Stripping For My Devil Ex Husband

The afternoon sun filtered through the high glass arches of the Northwood conservatory, warming the vibrant green ferns and blooming white orchids.

​Victoria sat poised at the cast-iron garden table, a set of fine bone china resting between them. Spread across the glass surface were several heavy, velvet-bound photo albums.

​”Look at this one,” Victoria said softly, her polished finger tapping a faded photograph of a chubby-cheeked, scowling toddler with dark hair, clutching a wooden horse. “Damian never smiled for the camera, not even at three years old. And here is Valerie, practically attached to his side the day we brought her home.”

​Ana’s gaze lingered on the pages. For the first time, she was looking at the Sterling family before the tragedy… before Arthur’s fall and Damian’s ruthless transformation.

​Victoria’s voice quieted, the faint smile on her lips tinged with lingering sorrow. “Arthur was so proud of him. When Arthur died… Damian didn’t cry. He simply locked himself away, working until his hands bled to pull this family out of ruin. He took every burden onto his own shoulders so Valerie and I would never have to suffer.”

​Victoria looked up, her aristocratic features softening as she looked across the table at Anastasia.

​”If Damian ever has children, I truly hope they look just like him,” Victoria murmured, her eyes warm with maternal fondness. “I only wish… I could have been there for you, Ana, when you were expecting after the divorce.”

​The air in the conservatory seemed to freeze.

​Ana stiffened instantly, her fingers curling tightly around the delicate porcelain teacup. A cold, suffocating ache clamped around her chest. The loss of that child after their separation remained an open, unhealed wound… a pain she had buried deep in the dark.

​Victoria noticed the sudden tension immediately. Reaching across the table, the older woman placed a warm, comforting hand over Ana’s trembling fingers.

​”Forgive me, dear. I didn’t mean to reopen old wounds,” Victoria said gently, her tone laced with shared grief. “After Damian was born, my body went through severe complications. Before we were blessed with Valerie, I was expecting another child… but my body was too weak, and we lost the baby. It took years to heal. That’s why Valerie felt like such a miracle to us.”

​Before the weight of the silence could settle too heavily, the glass double doors clicked open.

​”Look who finally agreed to leave his cave!” Valerie announced brightly, rolling Damian into the sunlit conservatory on a polished wheelchair.

​Damian looked thoroughly unimpressed, his arm resting in a sleek black sling, his dark brow furrowed with deep irritation at having his mobility managed by his little sister.

​Ana quickly blinked away the moisture in her eyes, drawing a deep breath to steady herself. Seizing the open album, she picked up one of the vintage portraits and turned it toward him, a playful, teasing spark instantly returning to her gaze.

​”You know, Victoria was just showing me your childhood pictures,” Ana said, tapping the photo of the round-faced boy with a mischievous smirk. “Who would have thought the terrifying, untouchable Damian Sterling was actually such a little fat boy?”

​Valerie burst into unrestrained laughter, while Damian’s obsidian eyes snapped toward Ana, his sharp jaw tightening with dark, dangerous amusement.

​”You’re walking on very thin ice, little bird,” Damian rumbled.

________________________

“Movie night,” Valerie declared with absolute authority, clapping her hands together. “The patient needs mandatory entertainment, and none of you get a say in the matter.”

​Victoria stood up, smoothing the front of her dress with a fond, graceful smile. “I will leave you three to it. I’m going to the kitchen to oversee a special dinner for tonight… though sadly, Damian, the physician has you on a strictly bland recovery diet. Broth and steamed greens for you, my dear.”

​Damian let out a low, irritated grunt as Valerie wheeled him down the corridor and into the sprawling, dimly lit drawing room.

​Together, Valerie and Ana carefully helped him transfer from the wheelchair onto the plush, oversized velvet couch. Ana grabbed a cashmere throw from the armrest, gently draping it over his lap and around his broad shoulders.

​Before she could step back to sit on the adjacent armchair, Damian’s uninjured hand shot out, wrapping firmly around her wrist. With effortless strength, he pulled her down onto the cushions beside him, tucking her flush against his side and pulling the heavy blanket over both their laps.

​Valerie flopped onto the single sofa opposite them, rolling her eyes so hard she nearly groaned. “Oh, please. Can you two stop acting so disgustingly lovey-dovey for five minutes? And don’t get too comfortable, I’m literally sitting right here.”

​Ana opened her mouth to protest, but beneath the thick folds of the cashmere blanket, she suddenly froze.

​Damian’s large, calloused palm slid slowly down the curve of her spine. His fingers slipped effortlessly past the waistband of her lounge pants, dipping lower until his warm hand settled directly against the bare heat of her core.

​Ana’s breath hitched in her throat. Her head snapped toward him, her dark eyes flashing in silent, frantic shock… What on earth are you doing?

​Damian didn’t even blink. He kept his sharp profile turned straight toward the television screen as Valerie hit play, his expression entirely bored and detached, completely ignoring the wild fire he was igniting beneath the covers.

​A dark, devilish smirk ghosted the corner of his lips as his long fingers began to stroke her wet, aching warmth.

​A suffocating wave of heat rushed through Ana’s blood. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs.

​”Damian, stop,” she whispered under her breath, leaning in slightly as if merely adjusting the blanket, her voice trembling.

​He didn’t stop. He deliberately kept his eyes glued to the movie, his thumb circling with agonizing precision over her sensitive peak, sending sharp, electric tremors straight down to her toes. Ana’s back arched instinctively into his palm, her body betraying every ounce of logic and resistance.

​Suddenly, Damian slid two fingers deep inside her.

​Ana gasped, instantly clamping her teeth down onto the soft hem of the cashmere blanket to stifle the sound before it tore from her lips. The illicit thrill of it… sitting three feet away from his sister in a brightly lit room… made her senses spin wildly out of control.

Instinctively, she parted her thighs wider beneath the dark blanket, tilting her hips upward to give his relentless fingers more room to wreck her.

​Damian’s pace quickened, his fingers curling upward against her walls with ruthless, steady pressure, stroking her deeper, harder, over and over until Ana’s knuckles turned white where she gripped his thigh.

Her eyelids fluttered, her vision clouding into a daze of sheer, overwhelming pleasure.

​”Valerie! Come help me taste this reduction, darling!” Victoria’s voice echoed down the long hallway from the kitchen.

​”Coming, Mom!” Valerie groaned loudly, throwing her hands up and grumpily trudging out of the drawing room.

​The heavy doors clicked shut behind her… and that tiny fraction of absolute privacy was all they needed.

​”Damian…” Ana let out a broken, breathless sob against his shoulder, letting the blanket drop from her lips. Her hips quivered violently as the climax tore through her core, her inner walls contracting around his fingers in rolling, desperate waves of release.

​She slumped against his chest, panting heavily, her skin flushed a radiant, dewy pink.

​When she finally forced her heavy eyelids open, she found Damian staring down at her. His obsidian eyes were burning with raw, untamed hunger, drinking in every drop of her undone, ruined expression.

​He slid his slick fingers free and leaned down, his broad shadow completely enveloping her.

​Ana didn’t pull away. Meeting him halfway, she rose up and crashed her lips onto his in a hungry, desperate kiss, parting her mouth to swallow his ragged groans as the heat between them consumed every lingering secret in the room.

Damian’s hand wound into the dark silk of her hair, tilting her head back as he deepened the kiss with a possessive, bruising intensity. Ana’s hands clung to his uninjured shoulder, completely lost in the intoxicating heat of his mouth, the lingering aftershocks of her release still shivering through her veins.

​A sharp, formal clearing of a throat shattered the air.

“Oh my God!” ​Ana gasped, instantly tearing her mouth away and scrambling back against the armrest of the couch, frantically pulling the blanket tight around her chest and smoothing down her disheveled clothes.

​Walter stood just inside the arched entryway of the drawing room, a secure encrypted tablet clutched firmly at his side. His weathered face was an unreadable mask of cold professionalism, though his sharp eyes caught every lingering detail of the flushed, breathless scene before him.

​Damian let out a low, dark growl of pure frustration, resting his head back against the velvet cushions with a grimace. “Walter. Your timing is rapidly becoming a lethal hazard to your career.”