She was sharper than usual. “Why the hell are you creeping into my room?”
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t need to. Let her throw sparks. Let her pretend she still had control. I stepped forward slowly—no rush, no need for theatrics. Her body always answered before her mouth did. I could already see it in the flicker of her breath, the way she held herself stiff and waiting. She wouldn’t run. She couldn’t.
“I’m here,” I said, watching the tension ripple across her shoulders, “to reward you.”
Her arms dropped. Just like that. “Reward me?”
I let my gaze roam, slow and deliberate, taking in every tremor, every part of her trying—and failing—to stay defiant. “For being a good girl.”
She blinked like it caught her off guard. “I don’t—”
“For doing what I trained you to do,” I continued, pacing each word with precision. “Observe. Adapt. Disobey when it matters.”
“That wasn’t—” she stammered, her face coloring fast. She was already unraveling.
I didn’t let her finish.
“Kneel.”
Not a request. Not a game.
And still—she obeyed. Instantly. Her knees hit the floor like she’d rehearsed it, like her body knew where it belonged before her brain could object. The sight of it did something vicious to my blood. Spine straight, palms open, chin low. She was perfect. Unquestioning. And mine.
She looked up through those lashes, like she didn’t recognize herself. She should’ve. I did.
The smile that pulled at my mouth wasn’t kindness. It was confirmation.
I stepped closer, letting my thumb skim her jaw—not to soothe her, but to brand her with my touch. A quiet reminder of who she’d become under me. “You know what to do.”
She trembled. Mouth parted. And still, she didn’t look away. I saw the heat blooming beneath her skin, the war she was losing. Her breath hitched as she whispered, “Eric—”
“Open.”
She did.
I took my time. Slid the zipper down slow, letting her hear every tick of the metal. When I stepped forward, her breath caught. She could smell it—me. Clean sweat, expensive fabric, and power. My hand tangled in her hair with controlled precision, guiding her mouth over my cock like I was slotting her into place.
She gagged. I groaned. She was tight, wet, obedient—and watching me.
“Eyes on me,” I ordered.
She obeyed. Her stare burned through me—watery, wide, ruined. I started to thrust, slow at first, letting her adjust before I gave her what she really needed. Her mouth stretched, slick and hot, taking me deeper with each stroke until her throat wrapped around me. My grip in her hair tightened, holding her still as I fucked her mouth like it was mine to ruin.
“Fuck, Floris,” I muttered, chest tight, “you look like sin.”
I pulled out, wet and gasping, and yanked her up like she weighed nothing. She hit the bed hard, and I didn’t wait. My palm cracked across her ass—a sting, a warning, a claim.
“On all fours.”
She scrambled, shaking, legs spreading like she’d been trained to do just that. Her dress was up before she even inhaled. I lined up behind her and pressed the tip against that soaked, aching heat.
“Eric—” she gasped, but I was already inside.
One brutal thrust.
Her scream punched the air from her lungs. She clenched tight, all that defiance melting around my cock. I filled her, stretched her, owned her. Each snap of my hips was violent, deliberate. Her hands gripped the sheets like they were the only things anchoring her.
“You’re soaked,” I growled, sinking deeper. “All that attitude, but this cunt tells the truth.”
She moaned so loud it echoed. Her walls fluttered around me, greedy and helpless. I didn’t let up. The bed rocked beneath us, headboard slamming the wall, every thrust louder than the last. She sobbed my name, unraveling with every stroke.
“Say it,” I demanded.
“I—oh god—Eric—”
“Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” she sobbed, broken and beautiful. “I’m yours—please, I’m—”
The door slammed open.
My body froze for a fraction of a second—but I didn’t pull out. Didn’t let her go.
Sia.
She stood there, rigid. Silent. Her expression didn’t twist into rage. It didn’t shift into disgust. It just… stopped. Stalled. Like she was trying to reboot reality.
Floris’s head dropped, face buried in the sheets, breath gone.
I kept moving.
Turned my head, calm as ever. “Close the door.”
Sia didn’t blink. Her fingers hovered at her sides.
“Sia,” I said again, slower this time, cock still buried in Floris like nothing had changed, “close the fucking door.”
A blink. A swallow.
She turned and shut it.
The click echoed louder than the slam.
I leaned down, lips brushing Floris’s ear, voice a low promise. “I told you I’d reward you,” I murmured. “I never said it would be clean.”