My back pressed against the wall, heat blooming beneath my skin.
He slowly peeled off my shirt, and his tongue found my nipple with expert ease. A moan escaped my lips as my breasts glistened under his touch. My other nipple grew taut in anticipation. I felt like a hungry baby bird, mouth parted, yearning to be fed craving more of him.
"Raise your hands above your head," he said in a commanding tone.
I obeyed, heart pounding.
"I need an obedient wife, Rhea," he murmured, his eyes dark with intent. "And you can obey every word I say… can't you?"
"Yes," I whispered, biting my lower lip. A strange, powerful pleasure surged through my body, compelling me to surrender.
"Do as I say, and I'll give you everything," he promised, his breath hot against my ear. The sensation sent a shiver down my spine and drew a soft moan from me.
He began to lick and tease my breasts again, each slow stroke of his tongue heightening my need. I felt myself grow wet, desperate, but he wasn't rushing. His touch was deliberate, agonizingly gentle stoking the fire rather than quenching it.
I was parched with desire, my lips aching to be filled. I imagined what lay between his legs thick, heavy, pulsing and the thought alone made my throat tighten in anticipation. I wanted to taste him… savor him like my favorite vanilla ice cream, melting on my tongue and sliding down my throat.
His lips trailed kisses from my chest to my stomach, pausing at my navel. Then lower, lower… until he hovered at the edge of my underwear, his breath warming the skin just above my core.
Damn. My underwear is wet.
If he finds out how horny I am… will he think I'm a slut?
A slut who cheated on her husband.
The thought made something stir deep inside me vindictive pleasure. I even liked the idea of being called a slut.
"You're wet," he said, his head now between my legs.
I looked down at him with half-closed eyes.
His oceanic eyes were misty and captivating.
But when he spoke again, his tone was commanding.
"Stay still. Don't move."
As I stood straight, he took off my pants. Then he opened the nightstand and pulled out a soft black whip with rabbit fur on the handle.
I inhaled sharply.
There was no doubt now he was into S&M.
Did he often play sex games like this with other women?
God, I'm such a fool. I'm about to become his sexual partner.
Just then, his phone rang. He ignored it at first, but it kept going relentless like an alarm.
With a frown, he walked over to the table to answer it.
"Don't move. Stay there," he ordered, pointing the whip at me.
His back was facing me as he muttered under his breath, "What do those bitches want now?"
I looked down at my naked body, and the heat inside me started to fade.
Sanity crept back in. I moved quickly, throwing my clothes back on. I even slipped into my jeans without underwear to save time God knows where they ended up, but I didn't care.
I just needed to get out.
If I could just reach the door while he was distracted, twist the knob quickly I might make it.
What a crazy night.
Alexander was still on the call, but he lowered his voice. He was clearly angry.
"Yes. Now," I heard him say.
I grabbed my bag and bolted toward the door.
But it wouldn't open.
That's when I noticed the sensor on the other side it needed a passcode.
Too late.
He was already behind me, closing in.
His blue-grey eyes glared down at me.
"You want to run?" he asked, voice low.
"You don't trust me? You don't trust me to help you?"
"I just don't want to be your sex slave," I snapped, glancing at the black whip in his hand.
"I'm not sure you'll keep your promise. I don't think I can work with you, Alex. Let me go."
"What kind of guarantee do you want?" he asked, pinching my cheek. "Tell me."
"A contract," I replied, keeping my tone casual.
"Something real not just words."
"I see," he said, letting go of my cheek.
He walked to the table, pulled out a small checkbook, and scribbled something on it. Then, with a wicked grin, he stuffed the paper into my bra.
"Is this enough?"
I pulled it out.
A check.
One million dollars.
The ink was still fresh. I could smell it.
"You think I'm a whore?" I snapped, throwing the check on the floor.
"Screw you!"
"You wanted a guarantee. Isn't this what I'm promising you?" he said, displeased.
"I don't want women with big minds."
"This night's been insane, but it's over now. Let me go."
Alex looked at me in silence, his gaze burning into mine until his phone rang again. The shrill sound cut through the moment like a gust of wind slicing through a fog-covered forest. My desire, which had just begun to settle, stirred once more.
"Damn it, Mark. Give me a minute," he muttered angrily. Before the caller could respond, he ended the call with a sharp tap.
"I'll let you go," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. He pressed one hand firmly against the wall behind me, his body close. Too close. I could feel the full length of his arousal, hard and unrelenting, pressing against me.
I needed him. Inside me. Now.
"I'll give you my word," his voice was hoarse, strained. "But you have to give me yours too. Promise me you won't let Damian Westwood touch you. I won't let you sleep with other men."
"I'm afraid I can't—"
His fist slammed into the wall beside my head. I flinched at the sudden crash behind him.
"Please... promise me, darling. My dear. Promise me," his voice softened, trembling with desperation. "If I find out another man has touched you, I'll lose my mind."
I looked into his eyes. I knew deep down those words weren't for me. He was talking to someone else. Maybe he saw her in me. Chloe.
The name haunted his lips like a prayer.
Maybe she left him. Maybe she destroyed him. But he loved her... deeply.
I was a stand-in. A shadow of a woman he once held close.
"I promise," I said, my voice barely a whisper.
Relief washed over his face. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead.
"Before I let you go," he murmured, "I want to hear you say my name again."
"Goodbye, Alexander," I whispered.
He paused. "I'll see you soon," he said. "I love you, Chloe."
Chloe. That was her name.
Dressed in a sleek black suit, he holstered his gun at his side and led me to the hotel's front hall. He asked the driver to take me home, but I insisted on driving myself. He had someone bring my car around its dented bumper now perfectly fixed.
I took the keys without a word and slid into the driver's seat. As I pulled away, I didn't look back.
But through the rearview mirror, I caught a final glimpse of him his tall figure slowly vanishing from sight.
Still, his scent clung to me.
And already… I missed him.
When I got home, Damian was standing in the middle of the living room. His face darkened the moment he saw me.
Then I heard footsteps from upstairs.
I turned and there she was.
Ariella.
She descended slowly, my nightgown draped over her shoulders, a towel in her hands as she dried the dew from her freshly washed hair. A smile played on her lips.
"Good evening, sister," she said sweetly.