The elevator dings, and I step into the silent penthouse, the city’s glow bleeding through the windows like firelight.
And somewhere inside, I know she’s waiting whether she realizes it or not.
The elevator doors slide open and the quiet hits me first.
No music. No footsteps. Only the low hum of the city outside. I take the stairs two at a time to her room. When I try the knob to her door I find it unlocked. She’s sitting crossed-legged, going through a package. Something she bought today when she was trying to teach me a lesson.
She startles when she sees me, but she doesn’t stand.
I step inside and shut the door behind me. The sound is soft, final.
“Is this what you do when you’re bored?” I ask, holding up my phone so she can see the message thread glowing on the screen. “Send me pictures like that?”
Her chin lifts a fraction. “You said I should feel at home.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Isn’t it?” she fires back. “Well, I guess that’s too bad for you because Imasturbateat my home.”
For a second, everything inside me goes still.
Dead still.
The kind of stillness that happens right before something violent breaks loose.
Heat spikes low in my gut, sharp and possessive. I take a slow step toward her, deliberate as a predator closing on prey. Her pulse jumps at her throat betraying her, but she doesn’t move away.
Good.
My voice drops, rougher than I intend. “You say that like you want me to picture it.”
Her breath hitches.
I move another inch, enough that I can feel the warmth of her skin radiating into the thin space between us. My eyes drag down her body and back up, slow, hungry, unashamed.
“You think I’m not imagining your hand between your thighs, imagining how you sound when you fall apart?”
She swallows hard, but she stays rooted to the spot. Her defiance is slipping. Her bravado cracking. And she doesn’t even realize she’s drawing me in with every second she doesn’t step back.
I tilt my head slightly, studying her like she’s a puzzle I fully intend to take apart with my hands. And mouth.
“Keep provoking me,cara,” I say low enough to be a warning, “and you’re going to get exactly what you want.”
Her breath stutters and God help us both, I’m done pretending I don’t want her right back.
“Maybe I know exactly what I’m doing.”
Her admission unlocks something deep inside of me. People rarely challenge me. Maybe that’s why I find her so fascinating.
“Show me.”
“What?” Heat blooms across her face.
“Show me what you were going to do with the toy.”
Her breath catches and I see desire in the blue depths of her eyes.
“Are you serious?”
