The rooftop denial still burned through her skin.
Every step back to her hotel room was agony. A pulse between her thighs that refused to fade, a heat in her belly that only sharpened when she was alone.
She didn't even try to sleep.
She stripped to a black slip, paced, sat, stood, paced again. Her hands shook every time they drifted toward where she ached most. But she didn't.
Because she'd been told not to.
Julian's command still owned her: Wait.
The knock came just past midnight.
One. Soft. Singular.
Before she reached the door, the lock clicked. It opened.
He stepped inside. Black shirt open at the collar, no tie, no smile. Gray eyes fixed on her like she was already kneeling.
She hadn't given him a key.
He'd taken it.
"Good girl," he said, voice low. "Still waiting."
Her pulse jumped. "Yes, sir."
He came closer, slow and deliberate. His hand traced her jaw, thumb brushing her lower lip. "Show me."
She lifted the hem of her slip. Nothing underneath. His mouth curved, approving.
"On the bed. Hands behind your back."
From his pocket came a coil of soft black rope. The first loop bit snug around her wrists, the pull of it tightening her breath.
"You've been thinking about me since you left that rooftop," he murmured, binding her. "Thinking about my hands. My mouth. The way I told you no."
"Yes…" Her voice cracked. "Yes, sir."
"How badly?"
"I can't stand it."
A sharp smack to her thigh. Not cruel, but enough to make her gasp.
"Eyes open. I want to see it when you beg."
He pulled her over his lap. The first strike to her ass landed hot. The second coaxed a whimper.
By the third, her body betrayed her.
Hips arching into his hand, wetness gathering between her thighs.
"Of course you are," he murmured, fingers testing her and finding her drenched. He withdrew, making her squirm.
"Not yet."
He lifted her, settled her astride him. Rope still binding her wrists, she sank down onto him…thick, hard, perfect.
His hands gripped her hips, controlling every inch. "You'll come when I say."
She rocked against him, each thrust drawing her tighter, closer, until she was trembling and nearly sobbing.
"Now."
She broke. The orgasm ripped through her, rope cutting into her wrists as her body locked around him. He held her there, forcing her to feel every pulse until she collapsed against his chest.
When he untied her, his touch was almost tender. Almost.
From the nightstand, he picked up something small, thin black leather, a gleam of metal.
The collar.
He fastened it around her throat, his fingers lingering on the buckle. "Mine."
Her green eyes lifted to his.
She didn't argue. Couldn't
Because he was right.
End of Chapter Three
Next: Chapter Four – Reckoning