Page 19

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Seb

Elle’s eyes are wide, her breaths shallow, and there’s this beautiful, desperate need flickering in them as she kneels in front of me. It’s a rare thing, seeing her like this, every ounce of her defiance stripped away, leaving nothing but pure, raw vulnerability. And it does something to me – something primal, something that digs deep into the part of me that needs control, needs her to understand exactly where she belongs.

I lean down, letting my fingers thread through her hair, tilting her head back just slightly so she’s looking up at me. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in her gaze, but I can see the way her lips part, the way her body leans into my touch, every inch of her silently begging for more. She’s beautiful like this, fragile, yet still holding onto the smallest sliver of her usual fire, and it’s driving me mad.

“You’re trembling, Elle.” My voice is soft, almost mocking, and I watch as her cheeks flush, a hint of indignation flaring in her eyes before she lowers them again. Good. I don’t want her to be comfortable; I want her feeling every bit of the punishment she’s earned.

I glide my right thumb over her bottom lip, feeling the soft warmth there, the way her breath hitches as I press just slightly. “Is this what you wanted, hmm? All that jealousy, all that anger – just a cover for what you needed from me?” Her lips tremble under my touch, and I can feel her battling with herself, trying to hold onto her pride even now. But she’s not going to win this one. Not today.

She doesn’t respond, and it makes me chuckle, low and dark. “Nothing to say now?” I murmur, my thumb still against her lip. Her gaze flicks up to mine, defiant even now, and it only makes me want to push her further, to see just how far she’ll go to cling to that stubborn streak of hers.

“Seb…” Her voice is soft, pleading, and the sound of my name on her lips like that almost unravels me right then and there. But I hold steady, leaning closer until our faces are inches apart, until I can feel her breath warm against my skin.

“Yes?” I ask, my tone a velvet whisper, and I watch as she swallows, her gaze dropping again. There’s nothing she can say now, no way to argue herself out of this.

“You wanted me to see you on that stage, to let someone else touch what’s mine. You knew exactly what you were doing.” I pause, letting my words sink in, letting her feel the weight of my anger, my disappointment. “Did you think I wouldn’t react?”

She shivers under my gaze, her fingers twitching slightly against the carpet as if she wants to reach for me, to ground herself, but she doesn’t move. Good. Let her sit with it. Let her feel the consequences of pushing me, of doubting where she stands with me.

“Look at me,” I command, my voice firm, and I see the struggle in her, the hesitation, but slowly, she lifts her gaze, those beautiful eyes of hers wide, vulnerable. “I’m not going to tolerate this again, Elle. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispers, her voice barely above a breath, and I can see the apology in her eyes, the regret. But I’m not letting her off that easily.

I release my hold on her hair, straightening up, watching the way she remains still, waiting, her body taut with anticipation. The scent of her is in the air, intoxicating, clouding my thoughts, and I have to grit my teeth to keep myself from pulling her into me, from taking her right here. But I know that’s not what she needs. What she needs is to understand that this is more than just a game, that her actions have very real consequences.

“Stand up,” I order, my voice low, and she scrambles to her feet, her cheeks flushed, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. She’s trying to regain her composure, to hold onto some semblance of control, but I can see the way her hands tremble slightly, the way her gaze flickers with barely-contained need.

I reach out, my fingers sliding down her arm, feeling the warmth of her skin, the way her body responds to even the slightest touch. She’s on edge, her nerves frayed, and it’s exactly where I want her.

She tenses, her breathing picking up, her eyes widening as she realises the depth of her situation. But underneath it all, there’s that undeniable spark of need, the way her body reacts, her lips parting.

I keep my gaze locked on her, watching the subtle play of emotions across her face – the shame, the anticipation, and beneath it all, the desire. Elle stands before me, her hands clenched at her sides, her entire body taut like a bowstring, trembling as she waits for whatever I’ll decide to do next. There’s a thrill in knowing she’s entirely in my hands, that every thought racing through her mind right now centers around what I’m going to do to her. She brought us here, pushed us to this edge, and now she’ll feel the full weight of that choice.

I step closer, my fingers trailing slowly, purposefully, down her arm, lingering just long enough to let her feel the heat of my touch. She shudders, and I catch the way her lips part, the way her gaze flicks up to meet mine, wide-eyed, as if daring me to take this further – and I will.

“Did you like putting yourself on display, knowing I’d see?” I ask, my voice low, pressing each word against her with deliberate, unyielding intensity.

Her mouth opens, but no words come out. Her cheeks flush a beautiful shade of pink, and I see the way her pride flickers, fighting not to give in. But the struggle only fuels me, the defiance feeding the need to strip her down, to have her laid bare in every way, vulnerable and begging.

I bring my hand to her chin, tilting her face up, forcing her to meet my gaze. “It’s too late to hide, angel,” I murmur. “You are now the sole focus of my attention.”

I let my thumb slide down, brushing the soft skin of her throat, feeling the rapid beat of her pulse beneath my touch. She shivers, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment, and I don’t miss the way her breathing deepens, the way her body sways towards me despite herself. I can tell she’s still grappling with her pride, but I have no intention of letting her keep it.

“Turn around,” I command, my tone leaving no room for argument. Her eyes open, a flash of hesitation there, but she obeys, slowly turning to face away from me. I step forward, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off her, close enough that every nerve in her body is undoubtedly aware of my presence behind her. I place my hands on her shoulders, guiding her to brace herself against the wall, my hands trailing down to rest on her hips, grounding her, holding her steady.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” I murmur in her ear, my breath warm against her skin. She doesn’t answer, but her entire body betrays her – her breathing quickens, her fingers curl against the wall, and I can feel the way her back arches ever so slightly, pressing into me, inviting more.

I don’t give her the satisfaction just yet. Instead, I keep my hands on her hips, holding her firmly in place, letting her feel the control I have, the way I could take her here and now if I chose to. I let my fingers trace slow, teasing circles over her lower back, close enough to make her body burn, but not giving her what she craves. I want her to feel the consequences of her choices with every fibre of her being.

“You’re mine,” I say softly, my voice a promise and a warning. “I won’t tolerate another stunt like that again, Elle. If you want to push my limits, then you’ll face the consequences.” My hands grip her waist a little tighter, and she gasps, her head tilting back slightly as I lean in, pressing my lips to the curve of her neck, letting her feel the heat of my breath, the way my control is hanging by a thread.

She trembles, the need in her almost palpable now, her body yielding to me even as her pride battles to keep up. But I can see it slipping, her resolve fading with every second, with every touch, with every dark word murmured against her skin.

“Tell me you understand,” I whisper against her ear, letting my hand slide lower, skimming over her thigh, reminding her of the tension I can build, the torment I can inflict without lifting a finger. She lets out a shuddering breath, her fingers clenching into fists as she fights to keep her composure.

“Yes, Sir. I understand,” she finally whispers, her voice barely above a breath, but it’s enough. I can hear the need, the desperation in her tone, and it sends a rush of satisfaction through me.

“Good girl,” I murmur, a dark satisfaction curling in my chest. But she’s not done yet. No, I want her to remember this, to feel it long after we’re done here.

With that, I release her, taking a step back, watching the way she sags slightly against the wall, her breath shaky, her body flushed. “You’re not going anywhere, Elle,” I tell her, my voice dark with promise. “This is only the beginning.”