Her Panties

Her bPanties /b

~Damon~

The second the door clicked behind her, I stayed seated.

Still naked.

Still soaked in the scent of her.

Still staring at the faint trail of slick she left behind on the floor like her body was trying to mark every step, like it hadn’t figured out how to stop leaking all the filth I’d shoved into bit/b.

bf/bb**/bk.

I leaned back, chest heaving, the aftershock still buzzing in my veins. My c**k was half–hard againb, /btwitching against my stomach, gleaming with the same mix of her arousal and my c*m that had been fb*****/bg dripping

out of her for what felt like hours.

My hand went to my jaw. Dragged down slowly. I was trying to breathe. Trying to calm the beast in me.

But then I looked down.

And saw them.

Her panties.

Damp as bf/b**k.

They were bunched in the corner like they didn’t know what the hell had just happened. Twisted, soft, and

soaked through with everything we’d just done.

And I froze.

Because bf/bb**/bk me.

She left them behind.

I reached for them slowly. Reverently. Like they were holy. Like they were some sacred trophy carved from sin

itself. My fingers curled around bthe /bdelicate fabricb, /bstill warmb, /bstill wet, still sticky with the mix of her

innocence and the wreckage I’d turned her into.

I brought them to my face.

And I f*****g inhaled.

Hard.

God.

Her scent was all over them. Sweet. Musky. Tangy. That addictive omega perfume that only came bout /bbwhen /b

her body was wrecked band /bwide open and bf/bb****/bbd /bfull of knot and bc/b*m band /bruin.

b“/bbf/bb**/bbk/bb, /bLyra,” I groaned, eyes fluttering shut as I held them bthere/b. “You bdon’t /beven bknow /bbwhat /bbyou’re /bbdoing /bbto /bbme/b.

“Look at you,” I whispered, lifting bthe /bbsoft /bbce /bbetween my fingers. b“/bbWhat /bbam /bI bgonna /bbdo /bbwith /bbyou/bb, /bbhuh/bb? /bbYou /bsweet blittle /bthing. You bfilthy /bblittle piece /bbof /bherb./bb” /b

O

Her Panties

The second I brought them to my face, I was gone.

I groaned–deep…as I inhaled her scent.

b**/bbPORTS /b

Sweet. Tangy. Innocent and wrecked at the same time. The kind of smell that shouldn’t belong to someone her age, shouldn’t exist at all, shouldn’t be coating her panties like that if the universe had ba /bshred of decency

left.

But it did.

Because she wore these while she moaned for me.

While she bled for me.

While she came around my c**k and told me I ruined her.

And now?

Now they were mine.

b“/bbf/b**k,” I growled, dragging them across my nose again. “This is what you smell like when you’re mine. This is what your cunt smells like after I knot you..after I fill you up and stretch you until you’re crying and begging

and still asking for more.”

I inhaled again.

Harder.

Eyes closing as I let that sticky, musky perfume flood my lungs like it could fix every broken part of me. My bc/b**k twitched again. Still wet. Still fb*****/bg needy.

“This little strip ofce has more soul in it than half the women I’ve ever fb****/bd,” I murmured, tongue flicking out to taste the edge. “Goddamn, Lyra. You smell like sin. Like sweet fb*****/bg sin wrapped in baby pink and

breathless moans.”

I looked down at the panties in my hand.

“Were you wearing these when you came in here? When you gave me that look?” bI /bsmirked. “You weren’t ready. You had no fb*****/bg clue what I’d do to you. But your p***y did. Your p***y was soaking these before I

even touched you, wasn’t it?b” /b

Iughed softly.

Darkly.

“I could frame these,” I said, voice low and reverent, like I was talking to ba /bbf/bb*****/bg relic. “ss case. Bulletproof. Hang them in the study right over the firece. Let every bastard that steps foot in this house

know who owns you now.”

Another pause.

Another slow sniff.

Another groan.

“They bstill /bsmell like bme/bb,/bb” /bbI /bwhispered. “Still smell like my bc/b*m. Still damp with everything I bpoured /bbinto /bbthat /btight little bcunt /bof yours.”

I turned btoward /bthe bmirror /bon bthe door/bb. /b

O

Her Panties

My reflection stared back at me..hair mussed, chest scratched, eyes wild. I looked like a man who’d bjust /b

ruined something sacred and liked it. No shirt. No guilt. Just raw, feral satisfaction.

40 Pointsb /b

“You’re a grown–ass man, Damon,” I muttered to myself, halfughing. “Sniffing panties. Talking to bce /bblike /bit’s alive. What the f**k is wrong with you?”

“You run an empire. You’ve buried men in rivers, paid off governments, built your fortune with blood and

backbone…”

I raised them back to my nose, breathed deep.

“And now look at you. Losing your fb*****/bg mind over a girl’s underwear.”

Myugh was low.

Bitter.

But not ashamed.

“I should be locked up,” I murmured, shaking my head slowly. “I should be fb*****/bg institutionalized. Because this? This ain’t normal. This ain’t healthy. This ain’t what men like me are supposed to do.”

I turned and leaned against the closet door, holding the panties to my mouth like I needed to whisper my sins

into them.

“She’s eighteen,” I breathed. “Eighteen and ruined. Eighteen and knotted. Eighteen and dripping my fb*****/bbg /bc*m down her legs while my daughter’s down the goddamn hallway asking where we’ve been.”

I groaned and closed my eyes again, pressing the fabric tighter against my lips.

“And I’d do it all over again.”

Silence.

For a second.

Just the sound of my pulse thumping against my skull, the scent of her still coating the air, the warm press of herst moan echoing in my ears like it hadn’t really ended.

Then I spoke again.

“She doesn’t even know what she’s done to me,” I whispered. “She has no bf*****/bg clue. That sweet, messy little cunt has more power over me than any deal I’ve ever signed. I’ve killed for less than what she gave me

– tonight.”

I opened my eyes.

Looked down at the soaked fabric again.

And bf/bb**/bbk/b.

The sight of that dark, sticky stain/in the middle made my throat tighten.

“You begged me with this, didn’t you?” I asked, holding the panties like they could answer. “Your bp/bb***y /bbsoaked /bbthis /bbefore I even touched you.

“You were already mine. Already aching. Already waiting to be imed. You didn’t bsay /bbit /bbwith /byour bmouth /bbut bthis /blittle bf/bb*****/bg thing right hereb?/bb” /bI dragged my thumb across the centerb, /brubbing bthe /bbslick /bbspot /bbslow/bb. /bbThis /b

was your consent.”

O

b3/6 /b

Her Panties

Another breath. Shaky.

Another groan. Deeper now.

+ Porn bX- /b

“You think I’m ever gonna forget this?” I asked the drawer, like it was some dark confessional. “You bthink /bI’m

ever gonna let another man breathe near you without remembering what you smelled like when you came for

me in this closetb?/bb” /b

I licked the inside of my cheek. My jaw clenched again.

“You don’t even understand yet. You think this was sb*/bbx/bb?/b” Iughed quietly. “You think this was just some secret quickie while your best friend was in the hallway? No. This was the beginning. This was the first time your body admitted it was mine.”

I tapped the panties against my palm.

Soft. Wet.

Still warm.

“Every time you put something between your legs now, you’ll remember this moment. Every time byou /btry bto /b

wear new ones, you’ll feel the difference.

“You’ll remember how these were torn off you. How you moaned when they came off. How your slick coated

them while you begged me not to stop.”

Another inhale.

Then I kissed them.

Dead center.

Pressed my lips to that warmb, /bstained spot like I was worshiping the memory of her pb***/by.

And whispered against thece-

“This is mine now.”

Then I walked back to the drawer, opened it like I was handling a fb*****/bg relic, andid the panties t on the

velvet lining like I’d just ced the crown jewels.

bI /bclosed it.

Locked it.

Then stood there for a long minute with my hand on the wood, my chest rising and falling, my cb**/bbk /btwitching

with every breath.

“I’m a grown–ass man,” I said onest time, shaking my head andughing again. “And I just fell in blove /bwith a

bf/bb*****/bbg /bpair of panties.”

I dragged my hand down my face again.

Smirked at the mirror.

And muttered.

“God help me. Because I’m not stopping.”

bI /bstood there for another breathless second, palm bstill /bpressed bto /bbthe /bdrawer blike /bbit /bbhad /bbtaken /bbsomething /bbfrom /b

O

Het Panties ollime. Maybe it had. Maybe it was safer that way. /li/ol

+0 Points

Safer if I didn’t look at those panties again tonight. Safer if I didn’t open that drawer again in the next ten minutes and take them back out just to smell her all over again.

Because I would.

I f*****g would.

And I needed to get a grip.

I turned back to the room, dragging a hand down my face and eyeing the bed.

The sheets were ruined.

Completely.

There was a wet, dark spot in the center where her virgin blood had soaked through, ringed in the mess of my c*m and sweat and everything else I’d left behind inside her.

Her scent was thick in the air. The headboard was still crooked from where I’d mmed her against it before dragging her into the closet like a starving animal.

I clicked my jaw, exhaled hard through my nose, and moved to strip the bed.

Just as my hand grabbed the edge of the fitted sheet, I heard it.

A voice.

“b***h, where the hell were you?”

bf/bb**/bk.

Tasha.

My stomach dropped.

“Oh, goddammit,” I hissed, yanking the sheet off with one pull.

There wasn’t time. I didn’t even fold it. I just bundled the entire soaked mess into my arms, shoved it in the hamper beneath the sink, and sprinted out of the room like I hadn’t just marked every inch of it with my c*m

and my c**k.

The isecond /iI stepped into the hallway.

There they were.

My daughter and my filthy little secret.

Her eyes narrowed, her expression pissed off and full of bratty fire. But it wasn’t her mouth that made my

blood turn cold.

It was her hand.

Lifted.

Reaching.

Fingers already halfway to Lyra’s throat..already reaching for the bite mark I’d left right at the junction

between her neck and shoulder.

|||

O

Her Panties

My mark.

My f*****g mark.

“Tasha.”

She froze.

Both of them did.

48 Points

Lyra flinched like she wasn’t sure if I was about to yell or kiss her again. Her cheeks were flushed. Her legs were shaking. And she was still in my f*****g shirt.

And Tasha.

Tasha was standing there wide–eyed, hand suspended mid–air, mouth already opening to ask something I

would kill to never answer.

So I cut it all off.

Snapped like the father I was supposed to be.

“You are in big f*****g trouble, youngdy.”

Tasha blinked.

“What?”

“Look at the goddamn time you’reing home!” I barked, marching toward her like I hadn’t just been balls–deep in her best friend minutes ago.

“Ugh, chill, Dadi../i”

“Don’t ‘Dad‘ me!” I snapped, pointing toward the hall./

“I am never and I mean never allowing iyou /ito go to any f*****g party again. You hear me?! I don’t care if it’s a birthday, a wedding, a gender reveal or Jesus Christ himself hosting it in your mother’s backyard. You’re done. You’re grounded. Go. To. Your. Room. Now,

Royalty Writes

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