His gaze never left me.
I could feel it-like a heat tracing over my skin, unbuttoning every piece of clothing I still wore. My stomach twisted, thighs pressed tighter together.
He hadn’t touched me, not even once, but I was already unraveling.
Lewis’s voice dipped, almost tender. “Come here, princess.”
And I went-without another question, without resistance. My heels clicked softly on the hardwood as I crossed the space between us, like a girl being summoned in a dream.
“Kneel.”
The word landed like a slap and a caress all at once. I dropped without thought, the cool tile biting into my knees while fire coiled low in my belly.
He stared down at me, calm, composed, while I knelt trembling, wrecked by nothing more than his voice.
“I expect obedience,” he said, measured and firm. “Not hesitation. Not defiance. You said ‘yes’ and that means you trust me. Completely.”
I nodded, eyes wide when breath caught in my throat.
He reached behind him and retrieved a small black box, elegant and perfectly wrapped with satin ribbon. A gift, a command in disguise.
“Open it.”
My hands shook as I untied the ribbon, the silk sliding like sin between my fingers. Inside, nestled in tissue, was a matching lingerie set-deep wine-red lace, delicate and devastating. Barely-there straps. Sheer cups. It wasn’t something you wore. It was something you offered.
I swallowed hard, heat blooming across my chest.
“You’ll wear that tomorrow,” he said smoothly. “Under something modest. That oversized raincoat. Or the faux fur one you wore last Friday.”
My breath caught. He noticed?
“I notice everything,” he said, reading my thoughts like a book he’d already studied. “You’ll also wear this.”
He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small bottle of perfume. The glass was pale pink, minimalist, and expensive.
“This,” he said, “is the only scent I want on your skin. One spritz. Behind each ear. Nowhere else.”
I nodded again, dizzy and wet and overwhelmed. Still kneeling, my eyes flickering between the box, the bottle, and his face.
“Hair?” he added, voice softening into something almost cruel in its precision. “Loose waves. Soft. Nothing polished. I want you to look like temptation dressed as innocence.”
“I… I don’t know how to do waves,” I admitted, instantly regretting the sound of my voice.
His expression hardened when he bent down to me and his fingers closed around my chin with a grip that made my core tighten. Not painful. Possessive.
“What did I tell you about speaking out of turn?” I froze when he tilted my chin higher.
“Only speak when spoken to,” I murmured, my lashes fluttering down right before I added, “Sorry.”
His thumb brushed the edge of my jaw, holding me there like a toy he was deciding whether to play with or break.
“Good girl,” he murmured, releasing me slowly, like he was savoring the feel of letting go. His approval landed in my chest like heat and hunger.
Then he smiled-sharp, knowing.
“Now tell me, Sophie,” he said, watching my pupils dilate. “Did your thighs clench when I gave you that box… or when I told you you’d wear it for me?”
I didn’t answer his question-couldn’t. My throat felt too tight, my lips too parted, my mind too overwhelmed by the heat low in my belly. But he didn’t need words.
Adrian’s eyes dropped to my thighs, watching them press together again like he could hear the wet sound of skin against skin.
“That’s what I thought,” he said softly. “You don’t even need my touch to unravel.”
A shiver ran down my spine.
“You’ll meet me at the coffee shop a street from your apartment,” he continued. “Corner booth. Ten sharp.”
I nodded again, heart hammering.
“You’ll eat before you come and rest well tonight. I don’t want excuses.” I nodded without saying a word. He looked at me for another long moment. Then just: “Stand.”
I pushed myself to my feet, legs shaky beneath me.
“You’ll be quiet about this,” he added, tone firmer now. “To everyone. Especially your roommate.”
“Of course,” I said quickly.
I turned toward the door, still dazed, still breathless. But just as I reached for the handle-“Sophie.”
His voice stopped me cold. I turned slowly. “Yes?”
He took a step closer, expression unreadable.
“You asked something earlier,” he said softly. “But I didn’t answer.”
My lips parted, confused.
Then I remembered. The question. Half-joking. Half-terrified.
“Is it true you have a ‘red room’?” I had asked, the words slipping out like a dare. He watched me for a long beat.
Then, very calmly, very clearly, he said, “Yes. Yes, I do.”
“You’ve been eating a lot of pineapple lately. What’s the occasion-finally getting railed?”
Cleo’s voice rang through the apartment like a bell as she cracked open the garbage can and turned to face me. I was halfway through inhaling broccoli stir-fry when I choked so hard I nearly flung my chopsticks across the counter.
“What the hell, Cleo?” I coughed, eyes watering.
“I’ve seen the evidence.” She held up two empty cans of pineapple from the trash like she was building a case. “You’ve eaten at least four cans in the past twenty-four hours. You don’t even like pineapple.”
“I’ve just been… craving it,” I mumbled, cheeks heating.
Cleo raised a single brow. “Oh really? What about cranberry juice? Craving urinary health too?”
I glared at her and shoved another bite of stir-fry into my mouth. “Maybe I’m just trying to balance my vitamins.”
“Mhmm. Balanced diet.” Cleo leaned against the fridge, arms crossed. “And what’s this I hear about you not coming home tonight?”
I kept my gaze locked on my food. “I won’t be here later. Just giving you a heads-up.”
“Oh, someone’s got a dick appointment.” Her grin was evil. “Say it. Say it, Sophie.”
“Call it whatever you want,” I muttered, not looking at her.
She winked. “Just make sure you hydrate.”
Then she spun on her heel and disappeared into her room, humming a filthy song that made me want to throw a pillow at her door.
Once I heard it click shut, I grabbed my phone and slipped into my room. The nerves hit instantly. Like someone dropped a bowling ball into my stomach.
Stepping into the bathroom, I turned the shower on hot. Steam fogged the mirror as I undressed slowly, like I was already being watched.
I scrubbed every inch of my body, washed my hair twice, shaved, exfoliated, and stood under the spray until my fingers pruned and my thoughts got quieter.
I dried off, did soft waves like he asked, and slipped into the wine-colored lace set he gave me. The fabric clung to my skin like a secret. I pulled the faux fur coat over it, fastened it closed, and sprayed the perfume behind each ear like he’d instructed.
My pulse was everywhere. In my neck. Between my legs. In my fingertips.
