The car ride home was quiet, thick with tension that neither Morgan nor Claire acknowledged. Vincent, ever the professional, said nothing as he drove them through the darkened streets of New York, the city lights flashing by in a blur of gold and silver.
Claire sat close to Morgan, their thighs brushing, her fingers toying with the hem of her dress. The taste of Morgan's lips still lingered on her tongue, a ghost of the rendezvous they had stolen at the gala. She was still reeling from it, her body thrumming with the remnants of pleasure and the rush of nearly being caught.
But it wasn't enough.
She needed more.
The moment Vincent pulled up to the penthouse, Claire was out of the car, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she strode ahead of Morgan. By the time they stepped into the private elevator, she had made up her mind.
She was going to take control tonight.
Morgan had always been the one to lead, the one to dictate how far they would go. Claire had obeyed, let herself be swept into Morgan's world of dominance and control. But tonight, she wanted to push back—to see if she could shake the impenetrable Morgan Pierce.
The elevator doors had barely closed before Claire pounced.
She grabbed Morgan by the lapels of her crimson dress, pulling her in for a bruising kiss. It was hungry, desperate—her nails dragging down Morgan's exposed collarbone as she pressed their bodies together.
Morgan made a low, amused hum against her lips but didn't resist. She let Claire kiss her, let her nibble at her lower lip, let her press her body against the cool steel wall of the elevator.
But Claire wasn't naïve enough to think Morgan would surrender easily.
The second Claire's hands moved to unzip Morgan's dress, she found herself spun around. A gasp escaped her lips as Morgan pinned her against the elevator wall, her wrists trapped above her head with one hand.
Morgan's breath was hot against her ear.
"Careful, darling," she murmured, her tone laced with dark amusement. "You're playing a dangerous game."
Claire shivered, but she tilted her chin up in defiance. "Maybe I *want* to play."
Morgan chuckled, her free hand skimming down Claire's side, fingers dancing over the silk of her dress. "Oh, I have no doubt you *want* to." She leaned in, her lips brushing just below Claire's ear. "But the question is… do you have what it takes to dominate *me*?"
Claire opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, the elevator doors slid open.
In a blur, Morgan released her and stepped back as if nothing had happened, her expression composed, her eyes gleaming with challenge.
"Come," Morgan said, stepping out of the elevator. "Let's see just how far you're willing to go."
Claire swallowed hard and followed.
###
As soon as the penthouse door clicked shut, Claire tried again.
She pressed into Morgan, shoving her against the nearest wall, her hands sliding over the fabric of that damn dress that had driven her crazy all night.
"I *can* do this," she whispered, her lips grazing Morgan's jaw. "Let me."
Morgan smirked. "Then do it."
It was a dare. A challenge.
And Claire failed.
She hesitated for a fraction of a second—long enough for Morgan to take advantage.
In one swift motion, Morgan reversed their positions, forcing Claire against the wall. Before she could react, Morgan grasped her chin, tilting her face up to meet her gaze.
"I told you," Morgan purred, her voice low, commanding. "You don't have what it takes to dominate someone like *me.*"
Claire's breath hitched, her knees going weak at the sheer authority in her tone.
Morgan's emerald eyes darkened. "Now," she murmured, dragging her fingers down Claire's throat, feeling the rapid pulse beneath her touch, "since you were so eager to play…"
She grabbed Claire's wrist and pulled her toward the bedroom.
###
The room was dimly lit, the city skyline casting long shadows through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Morgan made her way to the closet, opening a hidden compartment Claire hadn't even realized existed. When she turned around, she was holding something unfamiliar.
A metal bar with soft leather cuffs at each end.
Claire's stomach fluttered.
Morgan smirked at her reaction. "Do you know what this is, darling?"
Claire swallowed, her throat dry. "A spreader bar."
Morgan nodded approvingly. "Good girl."
She stalked toward Claire, placing the bar on the bed before reaching for the straps of Claire's dress.
"Strip," she commanded.
Claire obeyed.
Morgan took her time, running her hands over Claire's bare skin, teasing her with soft kisses and barely-there touches.
Then, she guided Claire onto the bed, securing the spreader bar to her ankles, locking her legs apart. Claire's breath shuddered, a delicious mix of vulnerability and anticipation coursing through her.
Morgan knelt between her legs, tracing a single finger down her inner thigh. "Now," she murmured, "let's see just how submissive you *really* are."
###
Morgan didn't let up—not for a second.
She teased. She tortured.
Every touch, every flick of her tongue, every slow, agonizing movement of the toy she had pressed against Claire's throbbing center sent her spiraling deeper into mind-numbing pleasure.
Claire writhed against the restraints, her body straining, desperate for more, for release—but Morgan denied her every time, pulling back just before she could fall over the edge.
"Please," Claire whimpered, her body trembling.
Morgan hummed, tilting her head. "Please, what?"
Claire clenched her fists. "Please let me—"
Morgan silenced her with a sharp slap to her inner thigh. It wasn't hard, but the unexpected sting made Claire gasp.
"That's not how we beg," Morgan murmured, her voice silky.
Claire's breath came in shallow pants. "Please, *Mistress.*"
A satisfied smile curved Morgan's lips.
"Good girl."
And then—finally—she gave Claire exactly what she needed.
###
Hours later, Claire lay spent in Morgan's arms, her body still humming from the intensity of the night.
Morgan brushed a strand of hair from Claire's face, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
"You tried to challenge me tonight," Morgan mused, her voice tinged with amusement.
Claire gave a tired, contented hum. "Didn't go as planned."
Morgan chuckled. "No, but I admire your spirit."
She smirked, fingers trailing down Claire's spine.
"Perhaps next time, I'll let you *think* you're in control… before I remind you exactly who you belong to."
Claire shivered, her stomach twisting with anticipation.
God help her—she was already looking forward to it.