Sophie’s POV
"Can I see the red room?"
Adrian goes completely still, surprise flickering across his features like I've asked to see classified government secrets.
"Not for... that," I say quickly. "I just want to look. It's been so long since I've been there, and after everything that's happened..." I struggle for words. "I need to see it with clear eyes."
Adrian studies my face for a long moment, searching for hidden motives. When he finds only honest curiosity, he nods slowly.
"All right."
The red room looks exactly the same—leather walls absorbing sound, chains gleaming in dim lighting, tools arranged with museum precision. I run my fingers along familiar restraints, memories flooding back with tactile clarity.
The St. Andrew's cross where I'd been bound and trembling, the bench where he'd spanked me until I begged, every surface holding echoes of my surrender.
"Have you added anything new?" I ask, surprised by my own curiosity.
Adrian moves to a corner I'd never explored, revealing an elaborate mirror system surrounding a padded platform. "Sensory reflection therapy. You see yourself from every angle while experiencing sensation."
The setup is hypnotic—mirrors positioned to create infinite reflections, combined with soft silk restraints and temperature-controlled surfaces. Something dark and hungry unfurls in my stomach as I stare at my endless copies staring back.
"Show me," I whisper.
Adrian's jaw tightens. "Are you…"
"Please. I need this."
He closes the distance between us, fingers gripping my chin with familiar authority. His eyes burned into mine, a storm of desire and control, as he leaned closer, his breath hot against my lips.
"If we do this, we establish safe words first. Is yours still the same?"
"I want to change it. Anchor."
"Anchor," he repeats, nodding. "Mine is red. Say either one, everything stops immediately. Understood?"
"Yes."
“Good girl,” he murmured, the praise dripping like honey, sticky and sweet, into the depths of my core.
His hands moved with rough precision, yanking my shirt over my head, the fabric catching briefly on my arms before he tossed it aside. His fingers found the clasp of my bra, flicking it open with a practiced ease that made my pulse quicken.
My breasts spilled free, nipples hardening instantly under the cool air of the room and the heat of his gaze. He palmed one breast roughly, his thumb brushing over the peaked nipple, and I gasped, my back arching instinctively toward him.
His other hand slid down my stomach, fingers tracing the line of my waistband before hooking into the fabric of my pants and yanking them down my legs.
I stood bare before him, trembling, my body already slick with need. "On the platform. Now."
I obey, the cool surface shocking against my heated skin. Silk restraints wrap around my wrists—tight enough to bite, loose enough to escape if I truly wanted.
Then I see myself in the mirrors.
Infinite Sophies reflected from every angle—breasts heaving, nipples peaked and flushed from his rough attention, thighs pressed together uselessly. I've never seen my body this way, laid out and desperate and dripping wet.
"Spread your legs," Adrian commands. "Let me see how much you want this."
I obey, watching my thighs fall open in the mirror above, exposing glistening pink flesh swollen with arousal. The vulnerability of seeing myself this way—open and desperate from every angle—makes me whimper.
"Beautiful." Adrian's voice is rough with want. "Now watch. Don't look away."
His hand cracks against my inner thigh without warning. I cry out, watching the sting bloom red across my skin from three angles. Before I recover, his fingers shove between my legs, two pushing inside my soaked entrance with zero preamble.
“Already soaked,” he hissed, his voice thick with arousal. “You missed this, didn’t you? Missed being mine.”
"Yes," I gasp, hips rocking shamelessly against his hand. "God, yes, I missed it."
He adds a third finger, stretching me deliciously, fucking me with rough, relentless strokes while his thumb grinds circles against my swollen clit.
I watch myself fall apart in infinite reflection—my pussy clenching around his thick fingers, my hips bucking desperately, slick arousal coating his hand and dripping onto the platform beneath me.
Adrian's free hand wraps around my throat, applying pressure until my pulse races against his palm, until breathing becomes a conscious effort.
“Eyes open,” he growled. “Watch yourself come.”
I try to obey, but pleasure builds too fast, my eyes wanting to roll back as his fingers curl and thrust and his thumb works my clit with cruel precision.
He squeezes my throat tighter. "I said watch."
Adrian flips me onto my stomach, yanking my hips up until I'm on all fours, ass in the air, completely exposed. I hear his belt unbuckle, the rustle of fabric, and then I feel the thick, hot head of his cock notching against my entrance.
"Tell me you want it. Beg me to fuck you."
"Please," I whimper, pushing back against him desperately. "Please, Adrian, I need your cock inside me, need you to fuck me hard."
He slams into me in one brutal thrust, burying every thick inch to the hilt.
I scream at the sudden fullness, my pussy stretching around his girth, the pleasure-pain of being split open so completely. The mirror shows my face—mouth hanging open, eyes glazed with lust, drool escaping the corner of my lips as he bottoms out inside me.
"So fucking tight." Adrian groans, pulling back slowly before slamming in again. "This pussy was made for my cock."
He sets a punishing pace, hips snapping against my ass hard enough to echo through the room, each brutal thrust driving the air from my lungs. I can hear the obscene wet sounds of him pounding into me, feel his heavy balls slapping against my clit with every stroke.
"This is what you needed." He fists my hair, wrenching my head back so I'm forced to watch. "To be reminded who owns you."
I see everything in the mirrors—his powerful body driving into mine, my breasts swaying with each impact, his thick cock glistening with my arousal as it pistons in and out of my stretched pussy. The visual is filthy and overwhelming.
“Say my name,” he commanded.
“Adrian,” I cried, my body trembling on the edge of another orgasm. “Please, Adrian—”
He spanks me harder, fucking deeper, angling his hips to hit that spot inside me that makes me see stars. "Say my name when you come. Scream it."
"Harder, please, fuck me harder."
He gives me harder, grip bruising on my hip, other hand still fisted in my hair. I'm pinned, completely at his mercy as he rails into me with brutal force. The pleasure coils impossibly tight, his thick cock stretching me with every relentless thrust, my third orgasm building—
And then Cassian's face flashes through my mind. His gentle hands. His warm smile. The guilt of being here, being used so thoroughly, while he worried about me.
“Anchor!” I gasped, the word tearing from my throat like a lifeline.
Adrian stopped immediately, buried deep inside of me, his hands lifting from my hips as concern flooded his features.
“What’s wrong? Was it too much? Did I hurt you?”
“No,” I whispered, the words catching in my throat. “I just… Can we stop? I’m really tired, actually.”
He pulled out slowly, and I felt the loss acutely, my body trembling with unspent need. Adrian studied my face in the mirror, reading the conflict I couldn’t hide. Something flickered in his storm-gray eyes—understanding, maybe, or resignation.
“Sure,” he said quietly, releasing my restraints with gentle hands. “Just wait here. I’ll be right back.”
I curled under his sheets, guilt and desire warring in the chest. The room still smelled like sex, like him, like choices I wasn’t ready to make.
Am I broken for wanting two different men? For needing Adrian’s rough dominance and Cassian’s tender care in equal measure?
The exhausting thoughts pulled me under before I found any answers.