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“Tell me.” My grip on her throat tightens fractionally. “Tell me exactly what you did wrong.”

“I let him touch me,” she breathes, and I feel her swallow beneath my palm. “At dinner last week. He put his hand on my knee under the table, and I didn’t stop him.”

The confession ignites something dark inside me. I knew Vega had been pawing at her, but hearing it from her lips makes my vision blur red at the edges.

“Where else?” My voice comes out rougher than intended. “Where else did he touch what’s mine?”

“My waist. When we were dancing at the charity gala.” Her eyes flutter closed. “My face when he kissed me goodnight.”

“Open your eyes.” I wait until she obeys before continuing. “Did you think about me when his hands were on you?”

“Every time.” The admission comes out as barely more than a whisper. “I thought about your hands instead. About how different it feels when you touch me.”

“And how does it feel when I touch you?”

“Like I’m alive,” she says without hesitation. “Like I’m finally real.”

The raw honesty in her voice nearly undoes my control. But this isn’t about tenderness. Not yet. This is about establishing what she already knows deep down—that she belongs to me completely.

“Strip.” I step back, giving her space. “Everything off. Now.”

Her hands move to the hem of her sweater, but I catch her wrists.

“Slowly,” I command. “I want to savor this.”

She pulls the soft cashmere over her head, revealing a black lace bra that makes my mouth water. Her jeans follow, peeled down her legs to expose matching panties that leave little to the imagination.

“All of it,” I say when she hesitates.

The bra goes first, freeing her perfect breasts to my hungry gaze. Then the panties slide down her thighs, pooling at her feet before she steps out of them.

“Hands behind your back.”

She complies immediately, the position pushing her breasts forward, making her even more vulnerable. More mine.

I circle her slowly, drinking in every inch of exposed skin. The bruises from our last encounter have faded, and that won’t do. Not when I need to see my marks on her, need evidence of my claim that even Vega can’t miss.

“I’m going to spank this perfect ass ten times. You’re going to count each one and thank me for it. Understand?”

“Yes,” she breathes, her chest rising and falling with anticipation.

“Yes, what?” I prompt, moving behind her.

“Yes, sir.”

The honorific sends a jolt of satisfaction through me.

I’ve never needed a woman to call me sir before, never let my dominant side show like this. But with Audrey, everything’s different. She brings out parts of me I’ve kept locked away, makes me want things I’ve never allowed myself to want.

“Bend over. Hands on the window.”

She moves into position, presenting herself to me with a trust that humbles and inflames me in equal measure. The dying sunlight paints her skin gold, highlighting every curve, every hollow.

My hand connects with her ass in a sharp crack that echoes through the room.

“One. Thank you, sir.”

Her voice wavers but doesn’t break. I rub the reddening skin gently before delivering the second strike.