After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law

Chapter 318: Cockblocked by a Dress**

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Aria whimpered, her fingers tangling frantically in his messy silver hair. She dragged him closer, her knees digging into the leather bench on either side of his thighs. He tasted like expensive mint and absolute desperation.

Damien’s hands moved from her hips, sliding frantically up her sides to find a way underneath the red silk and black satin of her dress. He found the edge of the bodice and tried to push it down, but the fabric refused to budge.

He moved to her back, his fingers blindly searching the spine for a hook, a zipper, a button—anything.

"Aria," Damien growled against her jaw, his breathing ragged as his fingers met an impenetrable wall of fashion tape and tightly sewn stitches. "How do I get this off?"

Aria let out a breathless laugh, kissing the side of his neck. "I told you. You can’t. It’s pinned and taped to my actual ribcage."

Damien’s chest heaved. The last week of icy glares, sleeping in a cold, empty bed, and maintaining a respectful distance had completely drained his patience. He was starving and he refused to be cockblocked by a dress.

He grabbed the structured neckline of the black satin corset in both hands and yanked with all his strength.

RIIIIIIIIP.

The sound of sixty thousand dollars’ worth of archival couture tearing in half echoed loudly in the cabin.

Thick thread snapped. Hidden safety pins popped and flew through the air like tiny pieces of shrapnel, pinging against the windows. The tape ripped painfully away from her skin, leaving the entire bodice shredded straight down the middle.

The fabric fell away, exposing her completely.

Aria gasped, her back arching as the cool air of the limo hit her bare chest.

Damien didn’t give her a second to recover. He gripped her waist and pulled her down, his mouth closing hotly over her breast. He bit down gently, sucking a loud, breathless cry straight out of her throat.

"Damien," Aria sobbed, her hands gripping his broad shoulders so tightly her nails bit into his skin.

She was out of her mind. The aching emptiness that had been pooling in her stomach for days was driving her feral. She didn’t want him to take his time.

She reached down, her hands fumbling blindly with his belt buckle. She popped it open, dragging the zipper of his trousers down with zero finesse.

Damien shifted his weight, freeing himself with a harsh exhale. He gripped her hips, hoisting her up slightly, his thumbs pressing hard into the soft flesh of her thighs.

Aria didn’t wait. She sank down onto him, burying his rigid length deep inside her slick heat in one seamless plunge.

"Fuck," Damien swore, his head falling back against the leather headrest.

He filled her completely, stretching her tight. They were both panting, their chests heaving in the quiet, dim cabin.

Aria started to move.

She rode him with a messy, frantic urgency, grinding her hips down hard against his pelvis. Damien met her thrust for thrust, his large hands gripping her ass to guide the rhythm, driving upward with a bruising, aggressive force.

There was nothing slow or romantic about it. It was loud and desperate. The Maybach’s suspension actually groaned as they slammed against each other, the wet, slapping sound of their skin colliding filling the space.

"Right there," Aria cried out, her head thrashing back, her rose-gold hair a mess over her bare shoulders. "Don’t stop!"

"I’m not stopping," Damien gritted out, his jaw locked tight.

He pulled her down by the back of her neck, crushing his mouth to hers again. He kissed her brutally, his tongue mimicking the fast, relentless pounding of his hips. Aria moaned into his mouth, her inner walls clenching around his shaft with every deep, punishing stroke.

The coil in her lower belly wound tighter and tighter, the pleasure spiking so fast it made her vision blur at the edges.

"Damien," Aria whimpered, her nails leaving deep, red half-moon crescent marks tracking down his shoulders. "I’m close."

"Take it," he rasped into her ear, thrusting up into her deepest spot.

Aria shattered. A full-body orgasm ripped right through her nervous system. She screamed his name, her back bowing as her core clamped down around him in rapid, tight spasms.

The feeling of her climax broke his restraint.

Damien let out a guttural groan, driving his hips upward one last time. He held her flush against his body as he spilled his release, his frame shuddering hard beneath her.

They collapsed together, a sweaty, panting mess of tangled limbs.

Aria rested her cheek against his chest, her heart hammering a mile a minute. The only sounds in the car were their jagged breaths and the low, muffled hum of the Maybach’s tires on the asphalt.

Gradually, the reality of their surroundings began to filter back into Aria’s brain.

She lifted her head, looking down at the wreckage of the backseat.

There were loose safety pins scattered across the floor mats. The red silk skirt was bunched up around her waist, wrinkled, and the black satin corset was quite literally hanging off her in two useless, shredded halves.

"Oh my god," Aria wheezed, a breathless laugh escaping her lips as she stared at the confetti of her outfit. "Coco is going to murder us. He spent two hours taping me into this."

Damien chuckled, a low, exhausted sound. He casually brushed a sweaty strand of hair from her forehead.

The Maybach slowed, making a smooth, sweeping turn. The transition from the bumpy street pavement to the polished concrete of the subterranean garage signaled their arrival at Sinclair Tower.

The car glided into its VIP parking spot and shifted into park with a soft mechanical click.

"We’re here," Aria noted, her eyes widening as she realized she was currently half-naked in the back of a car. "And I do not have a top anymore."

Damien handed his black tuxedo jacket to her.

Aria slipped her arms into the sleeves. The jacket was massive on her, the hem hitting mid-thigh.

That left Damien sitting there completely shirtless. His white dress shirt had been unbuttoned and discarded somewhere in the footwell during the chaos.

The driver stepped out, walking around the back of the car, and opened the passenger door. He kept his eyes strictly trained on the concrete ceiling.

Aria slid out of the car first, adjusting the lapels of the tuxedo jacket around her chest. She stepped into her black Louboutins, smoothing down her messy hair as best as she could.

Damien stepped out right behind her.

The freezing, damp air of the parking garage hit his bare chest instantly, but he didn’t seem to notice. His slacks were slightly rumpled, his silver hair was a disastrously sexy mess, and he looked very relaxed for the first time in a while.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a silver lighter and a cigarette.

He popped the cigarette between his lips, bringing the lighter up to his face.

Snick.

The bright, warm flame flared to life, illuminating the dark, concrete shadows of the parking structure for a brief second.

As the light hit the far wall, Aria’s eyes caught movement.

She turned her head, squinting past the hood of the Maybach toward the guest parking bays.

Parked two spots down was a grey sedan. The trunk was popped open.

"Damien, wait," Aria whispered, grabbing his bare bicep.

Damien paused, the lighter still burning in his hand. He followed her gaze.

Standing by the trunk of the car was Jade.

But she didn’t look like the bubbly, overly-talkative girl who always smiled too much. She was wearing a faded grey hoodie with the hood pulled up.

And she was a.... wreck.

Even from twenty feet away, Aria could see that Jade’s face was blotchy. Her cheeks were wet. Her eyes were red, puffy, and wide with panic as she frantically, aggressively shoved a large, overstuffed suitcase into the trunk of the sedan.

She was sobbing. She was wiping at her face with the sleeve of her hoodie, her shoulders shaking.

Aria and Damien stood frozen by the Maybach, staring in silence.

Jade didn’t notice them. She slammed the trunk shut with an echoing thud, wiped her nose one last time, and rushed toward the driver’s side door, looking exactly like someone trying to flee the city before the cops arrived.

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