Like he was waiting for me to cross the line.
And here I was.
Knock.
No answer.
I exhaled. My heart was in my throat, beating like it wanted to escape.
I turned the knob.
It wasn't locked.
Of course it wasn't. He wanted me to come.
I stepped in.
Dim light. Warm whiskey air. Shelves of books and shadows. Thick silence. Then-
"Close the door."
His voice cut like silk laced with smoke.
I obeyed.
I turned slowly, my back to the heavy oak as I faced him-Dante Wolfe-six-foot-four in a black shirt that hugged the hard lines of a man who didn't need to raise his voice to control the world.
His tie was undone. His sleeves rolled. His eyes... those gray eyes didn't blink.
"You walked in," he said, "knowing exactly what it would mean."
I couldn't speak. My mouth had gone dry. My thighs were pressed too tight together.
He stood from his leather chair. Didn't rush. Didn't smirk. Just... stared.
Each step he took was deliberate. Slow. Like he was giving me a chance to run.
I didn't.
"I'm your daughter's best friend," I whispered. "This is wrong."
He stopped in front of me, barely inches away.
"Then why are you wet?" he asked, his voice gravel and fire.
I gasped, cheeks blazing, knees weak.
He brushed my hair behind my ear. "Tell me, Ava. What do you want?"
You. I want you to break me.
"I don't know," I whispered, but my breath betrayed me. It was ragged, desperate.
"Yes, you do." His fingers slid beneath my chin, tilting my face to meet his. "You want to be ruined. You want to be owned."
"No."
"Liar."
He kissed me.
It wasn't sweet.
It was domination in its purest form. Tongue. Teeth. Hunger. I whimpered as his hand grabbed my throat-not hard, not soft. Just enough to own me.
My panties were soaked.
He pulled away. I almost fell.
"Take off your dress."
I hesitated.
He stepped back, crossing his arms like a judge waiting for a verdict. His jaw clenched once.
"Now."
The word cracked like a whip.
I reached for the hem of my dress with shaking fingers. Pulled it over my head. Let it fall.
He stared.
"No bra," he murmured. "Little tease."
His eyes roamed over my pale skin, my trembling breasts, my thighs that refused to stop clenching.
He approached. Slowly.
"You're untouched," he said. "A fucking virgin."
I nodded, heart breaking open.
He gripped my jaw. "That makes this even better."
He walked behind me. His breath burned against my neck.
"Do you even understand what you're doing, Ava?"
"No."
"But you still came."
He shoved my panties down.
I gasped as cold air kissed my heat. He didn't touch me-just stood there, making me feel naked with his breath.
"Bend over my desk."
I blinked. "What?"
"Do it."
I did.
Chest flat on polished wood. Legs shaking. Ass exposed.
He moved behind me. Close. I could feel the heat of his body-not touching, just hovering.
He spanked me.
Once.
The sound echoed like thunder in the quiet room. My breath hitched. My pussy clenched.
He groaned behind me. "Look at you... dripping."
"Please," I whispered. I didn't even know what I was begging for. Touch? Mercy? More?
He slid two fingers down my slit.
"Fuck," he hissed. "You're so tight. So ready to be ruined."
I cried out as he pressed them inside. It burned. It stretched. But it was perfect.
He moved slowly. Controlled. Then faster. Rougher.
"I should stop," he muttered darkly, "but you don't want me to."
"I don't," I sobbed.
He spanked me again. I gasped.
He pulled his fingers out. I whined.
Then the sound of a belt.
My eyes widened. He was unbuckling.
He was going to take me.
Without warning, he grabbed my hips, yanked me back-and then...
He pressed against me.
Hard. Thick. Unforgiving.
"This will hurt," he warned, voice like thunder. "And it will change everything."
"Please," I whispered. "Just do it."
He drove into me with a growl.
Pain exploded.
I screamed.
His hand covered my mouth.
"Take it," he hissed into my ear. "Take every inch."
It hurt. God, it hurt.
But I never wanted him to stop.
He stayed buried deep, letting me adjust, groaning against my neck.
"You're mine now, Ava," he whispered. "You gave me your body. You belong to me."
Tears slipped from my eyes.
He began to move.
Slow at first. Stretching me, claiming me. Then harder. Faster.
Each thrust was brutal.
Each moan was stolen from my throat.
My nails scratched his desk.
My orgasm hit like a storm-loud, shaking, wet.
I cried out his name.
He didn't stop.
He took me through it.
And when he came, it was inside.
No protection.
No apology.
Just possession.
Pure and dark.
He collapsed over me, breath hot against my back. Then stood. Fastened his pants.
I lay there, broken and claimed.
Finally, I whispered, "What now?"
He looked down at me, eyes blazing.
"Now, Ava," he said coldly, "you obey me. Every time. Everywhere."
And then he left me-panties on the floor, legs trembling, and the taste of danger heavy under my legs.
/0/86214/coverbig.jpg?v=8ae98749bbe527059207ce61dfbf3f8c)
View More Comments on App
/0/79297/coverbig.jpg?v=5580ae4317d3230416418e5292fa6d1e)
/0/74754/coverbig.jpg?v=18e7692d2b3ca48da126cf6b676f0414)
/0/78603/coverbig.jpg?v=8f799ae7fd516f5fdd4ae8128920ea3f)
/0/78693/coverbig.jpg?v=171b53b8e564db0848700ef09ea0a4a7)
/0/56683/coverbig.jpg?v=8788902c13147f8e71c25cef9a09def2)
/0/62446/coverbig.jpg?v=38761145c8767e855c4e9668ff55049b)
