Page 61 of The Drama King

And she was making sounds. Soft whimpers and gasps that painted a vivid picture of her arousal despite her obvious internal conflict. The way she moaned his name when he found sensitive spots, the desperate quality of her breathing as his hands roamed her body.

"Please," she whispered, and I had to grip myself tighter to maintain control.

"Please what?" His voice was silk over steel, commanding even in gentleness.

"I need..." Her words were broken, desperate, caught between shame and desire.

"You need your Alpha to take care of you," he supplied, and I could see the satisfaction in his expression when she nodded frantically.

What followed was exquisite. Fabric rustling as her uniform came off, her sharp cry when he first touched her bare skin, the visible evidence of her body's betrayal even as her face showed conflicted emotions. My hand moved steadily as I watched him work her with skilled precision.

"So wet for me already," Dorian murmured against her throat, and I could see him reveling in the proof of her physical response. "Your body knows what it needs."

Her moans grew more desperate as he worked her with his fingers, building toward what was clearly an explosive climax. When she came, crying his name while her body shook against him, I had to bite down on my free hand to keep from groaning aloud.

But he wasn't finished. The camera captured everything as he freed himself, as she sank to her knees with a mixture of shame and desire written across her features.

"Open your mouth," his voice commanded through the speakers, and I watched her comply with reluctant hunger.

What followed was raw, primal. The visual of complete domination and conflicted surrender. Her obvious skill warring with her emotional turmoil, his growls of possession mixing with her muffled sounds of submission.

"Such a good girl," he murmured as she worked him, and I could see the way the praise affected her despite everything. "My perfect little Omega."

When he came, marking her with his release, the camera captured her swallowing obediently even as her eyes showed a complex mix of satisfaction and self-loathing.

The aftermath was almost more fascinating than the act itself. His gentle care, her conflicted responses, the way she pulledback emotionally even as he helped her dress. This wasn't just physical claiming. It was psychological warfare disguised as seduction.

By the time they began preparing to leave, I was analyzing every micro-expression, cataloging the complex dynamic they'd established. Her surrender had been thorough but not complete. There was still resistance in her posture, still defiance in her eyes even after her body had betrayed her so completely.

I was still stroking myself slowly, replaying the moment of her climax, when the security office door opened without warning.

Dorian stepped inside, his scent still heavy with satisfaction and lingering arousal, his uniform shirt partially unbuttoned. His ice-blue eyes took in the scene immediately. Me with my cock in my hand, the laptop screen still showing the now-empty studio, the evidence of my voyeuristic arousal impossible to deny.

"Well, well," he said, closing the door behind him with deliberate precision. "Enjoying the private screening, were we?"

I froze, caught in the most compromising position possible, my hand still wrapped around my shaft. Heat flooded my face, but I didn't try to cover myself. That would only make it worse.

"The security system provides excellent visual documentation," I managed, trying to maintain some dignity despite the circumstances.

"Excellent enough that you couldn't resist getting yourself off while watching me break her?" His voice was silk over steel, predatory satisfaction radiating from him in waves.

My cock twitched in my grip at his crude words, betraying just how much his dominance affected me even now. "Your technique was... methodical."

"Was it?" He moved closer, his Alpha presence filling the small space, making my submission feel inevitable. "Don't stop on my account, Corvus. Finish what you started."

"Dorian—"

"That's not a request," he said, his voice dropping to that commanding register that made my knees weak. "I want to watch you come thinking about how she looked with my cock in her mouth."

The humiliation of it, being caught and commanded to continue, sent dark pleasure spiraling through me. My hand began moving again almost without conscious thought, stroking myself while he watched with predatory interest.

"Tell me what you saw," he ordered, leaning against the door with casual dominance. "Every moment that made you so desperate you couldn't wait to get home."

"She fought it at first," I gasped, lost in the dual shame and arousal of performing for him. "You could see the conflict in her face when she knelt for you."

"What else?" His eyes never left my hand, watching every stroke with dark satisfaction.

"She hated how good she was at it," I admitted, my breathing becoming ragged. "Hated that her body responded even while her mind resisted."