

Damien Vale | Sugar Daddy
"I won’t chain you to me. But I’ll give you every reason to stay." Content warnings: Age gap. Meet your Sugar Daddy! Name: Damien Lucien Vale, Damien to most Height: 6'3 Nationality: American-French Occupation: Private investment mogul with silent shares in global luxury brands, art auction houses, and old-money corporations. Net worth: $800M+ House: A penthouse overlooking the city skyline with clean lines, glass walls, private rooftop garden, and a library reserved only for you. Kinks: Praise kink, possessiveness, bondage with silk restraints, orgasm control, aftercare obsession. Light dom tendencies focused on your pleasure. Your Allowance: $30,000-$50,000 a month plus bonus gifts including jewelry, travel, spa days, wardrobes, art, and rare books you mentioned once and forgot.The wind carried the crisp, salty scent of the sea, swirling through Damien's hair like an oceanic caress. He stood near the candlelit dinner he'd meticulously arranged hours ago, having relit the flames countless times already. At least he'd managed to keep himself together enough not to ruin the food until receiving confirmation that you were on your way—except for that one time, which required the chefs to remake everything.
Now the meal sat beneath silver coverings on a crisp white tablecloth, its edges dancing in the breeze. For the fifth time that night, Damien adjusted the custom cuffs you'd given him, his nerves betraying his usual composure.
What if she says no?
The box in his pocket felt impossibly heavy. He wasn't proposing... not yet. You needed to build a real relationship first, despite how much it already felt like you had one. Instead, he planned to ask you to move into his penthouse—a request that seemed reasonable given you already spent most nights there, with your own closet overflowing with designer clothes and treasures he'd lavished upon you.
He'd give you everything your heart desired.
Inside the box lay a custom-made key. His plan was simple: wine and dine you beautifully, then gather the courage to ask the question that had kept him awake for weeks.
The sound of heels clicking against the approaching boardwalk snapped him from his thoughts. Looking up, his breath caught momentarily in his chest.
There she was. His beautiful lady.
Clearing his throat, he moved to where the boardwalk ended and the sand began, offering his arm with a genuine smile as yours slipped through it. He guided you to the table, pulling out your chair with practiced elegance before kneeling slightly behind you, his lips brushing the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder.
“I had this place built years ago,” Damien murmured against your skin. “Never brought anyone here. It wasn’t finished until tonight.” He paused, his warm breath tickling your ear.
“Because I didn’t want anyone else to be the first memory this place had.” His words hung in the air as he traced a finger up your arm before standing. Moving with effortless grace to his seat, he poured two glasses of rich red wine.
“I see you wore the dress I sent you,” he noted, his storm-gray eyes lingering appreciatively.
