She relaxes her throat completely, taking me to the root as I explode. I watch her throat work as she swallows, her eyes never leaving mine as she plays with her clit at the same time and then makes a guttural sound as her orgasm hits her. Not a hint of hesitation or disgust—just pure, hungry submission.
I collapse beside Amelia, both of us breathing hard, skin slick with sweat. Her hair sticks to her forehead, and there’s a flush across her chest that makes my spent cock twitch with renewed interest. For a moment, we just lie there, her hand resting on my chest, my fingers tracing the marks I’ve left on her throat.
“I want to see you again tonight,” I say, breaking the comfortable silence between us. It’s not a question. The possessive hunger I feel for her hasn’t abated—if anything, it’s grown stronger.
Her lips curl into a satisfied smile, but I catch the flicker of hesitation in her eyes.
“I’d love that,” she says, propping herself up on oneelbow. “But I must get to work. I’ve got a new series I need to start sketching today.”
“Work,” I repeat, letting my fingers trail down her spine. “Such a dedicated artist.”
She shivers under my touch. “Can I use your shower?”
I nod. “Help yourself.”
I watch her naked form as she climbs out of bed, admiring the way she moves—the slight wince as she feels the pleasant soreness between her legs, the unconscious grace in her steps despite the marks I’ve left all over her body.
While she showers, I select clothes for her from my closet—a crisp white button-down shirt that will hang loose on her smaller frame and a pair of drawstring linen pants that can be cinched tight enough to stay on her hips. Not her usual artistic, bohemian style, but the thought of her wearing my clothes, carrying my scent with her all day, satisfies the beast within.
When she emerges, wrapped in a towel, droplets clinging to her skin, I hand her the outfit.
“Wear these,” I tell her, watching as she drops the towel to dress. “And be at The Blue Room by eight tonight.”
She raises an eyebrow at my tone, a hint of defiance flashing in those expressive eyes. “Is that an order?”
I move closer, backing her against the wall. My fingers wrap around her throat, applying just enough pressure to remind her of last night. “Yes. It’s an order.”
Her pupils dilate, her breath catching. “Then I’ll be there at eight.”
15
GABE
After Amelia leaves, I find myself staring at the rumpled sheets, her scent still lingering in the air. Something feels different. Off-balance. With previous submissives, I’d be erasing evidence of their presence by now in my personal space, but I find myself preserving the chaos she left behind.
Three hours later, I’m sliding into a booth across from Adrian at Vincenzo’s, a dimly lit Italian place where the owner knows to leave us alone.
“You look distracted,” Adrian says, swirling his Barolo. “I take it the artist kept you busy.”
“She’s not what I expected.” I knock back half my whiskey, letting the burn center me. “She just... surrenders. Completely. No hesitation.”
Adrian smirks. “Maya was the opposite. Fighting me every step until she wasn’t.”
“My previous arrangements were clean. Controlled. They wanted the fantasy, not the reality.” I lean forward, lowering my voice. “Amelia walked into my office knowing exactly whoI am.”
“Did she now?” Adrian’s eyes narrow. “You didn’t actually show her your... collection, did you?”
“No. But she senses something.”
“Dangerous territory.” Adrian places his glass down. “Maya knows everything now. It’s quite liberating. But it’s a one-way door, Gabe. Once opened, it can’t be closed.”
I drum my fingers against the table. “I want to mark her. Not just her skin. I want to leave something permanent inside her mind.”
“And yet...” Adrian studies me. “You’re conflicted. You had that waitress fired last month for using your first name without permission. But I’m guessing Ms. Stone has far greater liberties.”
The observation hits uncomfortably close. “She sees patterns. In everything. What if she sees through me completely?”
“You’re falling,” Adrian observes, a dangerous smile playing at his lips. “The question is whether you’ll drag her down with you or try to climb up to her level.”
