I pull back slightly, frustrated by his evasion. "But I do want to know. If you had something to do with this—with what happened to Raymond—I deserve to know."
Something flashes in his eyes—annoyance, perhaps, or warning. His hand slides from my shoulder to cup the back of my neck, firm but not painful. "You don't need to ask," he says, his voice dropping to that register that never fails to make my stomach tighten with a mixture of apprehension and arousal. "You don't need to know the specifics. All you need to know is that he will never bother you again. That I took care of it, as I promised I would."
He doesn't confirm or deny his involvement directly, but his meaning is clear enough. Raymond is gone, and Sutton is responsible, though in what way remains deliberately vague.
I should be horrified. Should be terrified of what this man I've given myself to is capable of. But all I feel is a confusing mixture of relief and gratitude, tinged with guilt at my own complicity in whatever has happened.
"Was he..." I start, then falter, unsure how to phrase the question delicately. "Is he...?"
"He's not coming back," Sutton says simply, the finality in his tone leaving no room for further questions. "That's all that matters. That's all you need to concern yourself with."
His hand slides from my neck to my chin, tilting my face up to his. "You're safe now," he says, his voice softer. "Truly safe. No loose ends. No lingering threats." His thumb traces my lower lip, his eyes darkening as they follow the movement. "You belong to me completely now. Nothing from your past can ever touch you again."
The possessiveness in his words, in his touch, should disturb me more than it does. Instead, it sends a familiar heat coursing through my veins, a shameful arousal at being wanted so completely, so consumingly that this man would eliminate anything that threatened his claim on me.
"Sutton," I whisper, his name a question and a plea all at once.
He understands, as he always does. His mouth claims mine in a kiss that's all possession and hunger, his hands pulling me onto his lap so that I straddle him, the thin material of my dress doing little to hide the heat building between my legs.
"I can feel how wet you are already," he murmurs against my lips, his hands gripping my hips, guiding me into a slow grind against the hardness beneath his trousers. "Does it excite you? Knowing what I'm capable of doing to protect what's mine?"
I should deny it. Should be horrified by his question, by the truth it exposes. But I'm tired of lying, tired of pretending I don't want exactly what he's offering—this dark, all-consuming possession that promises both captivity and freedom.
"Yes," I admit, the word barely audible even to my own ears. "God help me, it does."
His smile is predatory, triumphant. "I knew it would," he says, his voice rough with desire. "Knew you'd understand, deep down, that true protection requires certain... sacrifices of conventional morality."
Before I can respond, he stands, lifting me with him as if I weigh nothing. He carries me across the room to the floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of the city below, now lit up in the early evening darkness. Without setting me down, he turns me in his arms so that I face the window, my back pressed against his chest.
"Look at it," he commands softly, his breath hot against my ear. "All those people down there, living their small lives, bound by rules and expectations they never questioned." His hands slide down my sides, gathering the material of my dress, pulling it up slowly. "But you and I, we're different. We make our own rules. Create our own world."
I stare out at the city spread below us, at all those distant lights representing lives I'll never touch, people I'll never know. From this height, they seem insignificant, reduced to mere specks in the vastness of Sutton's domain.
His hands push my dress up to my waist, exposing me to the cool glass of the window. I gasp at the sensation, at the vulnerability of being so exposed despite being sixty floors above the street.
"Anyone with a telescope could see you now," he murmurs, his voice dark with possession as one hand slides between mylegs, finding me already wet for him. "See how ready you are for me. How desperate you are to be claimed."
I should be embarrassed, should pull away from the window. Instead, I arch into his touch, a moan escaping my throat as his fingers explore me with expert precision.
"That's it," he encourages, his free hand coming up to cup my breast through the thin material of my dress. "Show me how much you want this. How much you want to be mine."
I hear the sound of his zipper, feel the blunt head of him pressing against me a moment later. He enters me in one powerful thrust that makes me cry out, my hands flying up to brace against the window as he fills me completely.
"Look out there," he commands, his voice a growl in my ear as he begins to move within me. "Look at the world I've given you. The safety I've created for you. The freedom that comes from being completely, irrevocably mine."
I obey, my eyes taking in the glittering cityscape as Sutton's thrusts drive me against the window, each one pushing me higher toward that peak of pleasure that only he has ever shown me. The contrast is dizzying—the cold glass against my heated skin, the vast openness of the view juxtaposed with the intimate, primal act taking place against the window.
"No one will ever threaten you again," he promises, his rhythm growing more urgent as his control begins to slip. "No one will ever touch what's mine. I've made sure of it. Made sure there's nothing left in this world that could take you from me."
His words, dark and possessive, push me closer to the edge. One of his hands slides from my hip to between my legs, finding that bundle of nerves that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
"Come for me," he demands, his voice rough with strain. "Come around me while you look at the world I've conquered for you. The world that will never hurt you again."
His fingers circle my clit with merciless precision, his thrusts deep and relentless, and I shatter, pleasure crashing over me in waves that seem endless. I cry out his name as my inner muscles clench around him, pulling him deeper.
"Mine," he growls in my ear as his own release follows, hot and pulsing deep inside me. "Forever mine."
We stay like that for long moments, connected in the most intimate way possible, my body pressed between his and the window, both of us staring out at the city that feels like a separate world from the one we've created here in his penthouse.
