Chapter 3

The penthouse door closed with a soft, final click that echoed in my chest like a gunshot.

Lucian didn't set me down right away. He carried me through the dark entryway, past shadowed marble and low recessed lighting that painted everything in gold and midnight. My wet dress stuck to my skin, cold silk against fever-hot flesh.

His arm under my thighs felt like iron steady, unyielding. I could feel the heat of his palm through the thin fabric, branding me where it rested possessively on my ass.

He didn't speak. He didn't need to. The silence between us was thick, electric, filled with everything we weren't saying yet.

We passed a wall of windows overlooking the storm-lashed city. Rain streaked the glass in violent silver lines. Lightning flashed once, illuminating his profile sharp jaw clenched, eyes fixed ahead like a predator who'd already decided on his prey.

My heart hammered so hard I was sure he could feel it against his chest.

He carried me straight into the bedroom.

No preamble. No polite offer of a drink or small talk. Just the wide, low bed dominating the space, black sheets already turned down like he'd known I was coming. Maybe he had. Men like him always seemed to know.

He lowered me to my feet at the foot of the bed, slow, deliberate. My ruined heels clicked against the hardwood. I swayed tequila, adrenaline, fear and his hands caught my hips, steadying me. Holding me exactly where he wanted me.

"Look at me," he said. Quiet command.

I lifted my eyes.

Up close in the dim light, Lucian Kane looked even more dangerous. The faint scar along his jaw caught the glow. His midnight-blue gaze pinned me in place, stripping me bare without touching a button.

"You're shaking again, princess."

"I'm... cold," I lied.

One dark brow lifted. "Liar."

His thumbs stroked once along my hipbones-slow, deliberate circles through wet silk. My breath hitched. Heat pooled low in my belly, sudden and shameful.

He stepped closer until our bodies almost touched. I could feel the heat rolling off him, smell that dark leather-and-smoke cologne mixed with clean male skin. My nipples tightened painfully against the clinging fabric.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, voice rough velvet. "Say the word and I'll put you in a cab. You'll wake up tomorrow with nothing but a hangover and regret."

I swallowed hard. My tongue felt thick.

"I don't want to stop."

His eyes darkened. "Then you don't get to be shy. You don't get to hide. You asked to feel something. So you're going to feel every fucking thing I give you."

A whimper escaped me before I could stop it.

His mouth curved just that cruel, beautiful hint of a smirk.

"Good girl."

He reached behind me. The zipper of my dress rasped down in one smooth pull. Cold air kissed my spine. The wet silk peeled away from my skin like a second shed layer. He tugged it over my shoulders, down my arms, let it pool at my feet.

I stood there in nothing but black lace panties already damp and the remnants of ruined mascara.

Lucian stepped back half a pace. Looked.

Really looked.

His gaze dragged over me like a physical touch breasts heaving with every shallow breath, nipples dark and aching, stomach quivering, thighs pressed tight together to hide how wet I already was.

"Beautiful," he said, low. Almost reverent. Then darker: "And so fucking needy."

I flushed from chest to hairline.

He circled me slowly. A predator inspecting his catch. I felt his eyes on every inch my ass, the curve of my waist, the vulnerable nape of my neck where my hair clung in wet strands.

When he came back in front of me, he tipped my chin up with one finger.

"On your knees, princess."

My legs folded before my brain caught up. I sank down, knees hitting the plush rug. Eye level with the thick ridge straining against his suit pants.

My mouth watered. Shamefully. Instantly.

He didn't touch himself yet. Just watched me stare.

"You've never begged for cock before, have you?"

I shook my head, cheeks burning.

"Words, Lila."

"No," I whispered. "Never."

His hand slid into my hair, fingers threading through the damp strands. Not gentle. Not cruel. Just... owning.

"Then you're going to learn tonight."

He tugged once sharp enough to make me gasp. My scalp tingled. Fresh heat flooded between my legs.

"Unzip me."

My hands shook as I reached for his belt. Leather whispered through the loops. The buckle clinked. Then the zipper slow, torturous. I pulled it down tooth by tooth.

His cock sprang free thick, veined, already glistening at the tip. Bigger than Ethan's. Much bigger. The sight made my core clench hard around nothing.

Lucian wrapped his fist around the base, stroked once, slow. A bead of pre-cum welled up. My tongue darted out instinctively.

He chuckled low, dark. "Greedy little thing."

He guided the head to my lips. Smearing wetness across them like gloss.

"Open."

I did.

He didn't thrust. Not yet. Just fed me the tip slow, letting me feel the stretch of my mouth, the salty taste exploding on my tongue. I moaned around him without meaning to.

"That's it," he growled. "Suck."

I hollowed my cheeks, swirling my tongue, desperate to please. Desperate to feel wanted. His hand tightened in my hair, controlling the pace. Shallow at first teasing me with just the head then deeper. Deeper.

My throat fluttered. I gagged once. He didn't pull back. Just held me there, letting me adjust, letting tears prick my eyes again but different tears this time. Not heartbreak. Hunger.

"Good girl," he rasped. "Taking it so well for someone who's never begged before."

He pulled out with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting us. I whimpered at the loss.

"Not yet," he said. "I'm not coming in your mouth tonight."

He hauled me up by the arms effortless and tossed me onto the bed. I landed on my back, legs splayed, chest heaving.

He shed his jacket. Shirt. Trousers. Every movement precise, controlled. When he was naked, the sight stole my breath muscled chest dusted with dark hair, abs carved, thighs powerful. Scars here and there. A man who'd lived hard and won every fight.

He crawled over me, caging me with his body. Heat poured off him. His cock dragged hot and heavy along my inner thigh

.

"Look at me," he ordered again.

I did.

He hooked two fingers in the lace of my panties and ripped them away like they offended him. Cool air hit my soaked folds. I cried out.

"So fucking wet," he murmured, almost to himself. "Dripping for a stranger who's about to ruin you."

His hand slid between my legs. Two fingers parted me, stroked once through the slickness light, teasing.

I bucked.

He pinned my hip down with his free hand. "Stay still."

I tried. God, I tried.

He circled my clit slow, maddening circles. Pressure building, coiling tight. My hips jerked anyway.

He stopped.

I whined.

"Beg," he said simply.

"Please," I gasped. "Please touch me."

"More."

"Please, Lucian-Daddy-" The word slipped out, unbidden. I froze.

His eyes flared. Dark, dangerous delight.

"Say it again."

"Daddy," I whispered, trembling. "Please... make me come."

He rewarded me with one hard, perfect stroke over my clit.

My back bowed off the bed.

Then he pinned both my wrists above my head with one massive hand.

"Keep your eyes on me," he growled. "You don't get to hide when you come."

His fingers plunged inside me two, thick, curling just right. His thumb worked my clit in ruthless circles.

Pleasure slammed into me like a freight train.

I screamed.

He didn't let up. Kept fucking me with his fingers, deep, relentless, while his mouth came down on my nipple sucking hard, teeth grazing.

The orgasm ripped through me violent, shattering. My whole body seized, thighs clamping around his hand, vision whiting out. I sobbed his name Daddy over and over like a prayer.

He worked me through it. Slowed only when I started shaking too hard to breathe.

When I finally collapsed, limp and wrecked, he withdrew his fingers. Brought them to my lips.

"Clean them."

I sucked obediently, tasting myself on him. Salty. Sweet. Mine.

He kissed me then first real kiss. Slow. Deep. Claiming. His tongue owned my mouth the way his fingers had owned my pussy.

When he pulled back, his voice was gravel.

"That was just the warm-up, princess."

He flipped me onto my stomach. Pulled my hips up. Spread me wide.

I felt the blunt head of him nudge my entrance.

"Last chance," he rasped against my ear. "Tell me to stop."

I pushed back instead greedy, desperate.

"Ruin me, Daddy."

He thrust in hard, deep, all at once.

I screamed again.

And the night really began.

Chapter 4

Lucian didn't give me time to breathe.

The first thrust buried him to the hilt thick, unrelenting, stretching me so wide I felt split open in the best, most terrifying way. My scream dissolved into a choked moan as my walls fluttered around him, trying to adjust, trying to take every brutal inch.

"Fuck," he growled against my ear, voice raw. "So tight. So fucking perfect."

He didn't move at first. Just stayed deep, letting me feel him throb inside me, letting my body learn the shape of him. My cheek pressed into the sheets, ass high, wrists still pinned in one of his massive hands behind my back now. The position left me helpless open, exposed, owned.

Then he pulled out almost all the way slow, torturous until just the head kissed my entrance.

I whimpered. Empty. Aching.

"Beg for it again, princess."

"Please" The word tore out of me, desperate. "Please, Daddy, fuck me. Hard. I need it."

He slammed back in.

My vision blurred. Pleasure-pain exploded through me, white-hot. He set a punishing rhythm deep, deliberate strokes that hit that spot inside me every single time. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, obscene and endless. My breasts bounced with each thrust, nipples grazing the sheets, sending sparks straight to my clit.

"You feel that?" he rasped, grinding deep on the next stroke, circling his hips so the base of him dragged over my swollen clit. "That's what a real man feels like. Not that pathetic excuse you almost married."

Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes not from pain, but from the overwhelming rush of finally being wanted. Taken. Used like I'd always secretly craved.

"Yes-God, yes-" I sobbed. "More. Please, more."

He released my wrists only to fist my hair, yanking my head back so my spine arched painfully sweet. His other hand cracked across my ass sharp, stinging.

I cried out, clenching hard around him.

"You like that," he said. Not a question. "Dirty little girl. Getting off on being spanked while I ruin this tight cunt."

Another smack. Harder. The heat bloomed across my skin, spreading straight to my core.

"Yes-Daddy-fuck-"

He fucked me faster now, relentless.

The bed creaked under us. My arms gave out; I collapsed forward onto my elbows, ass still high, taking every punishing thrust. His balls slapped against my clit with each drive home wet, rhythmic torture.

I was close again. Too soon. Too much.

"Don't you dare come yet," he ordered, voice like gravel. "Not until I say."

I whined, thighs trembling. "I can't..I'm gonna.."

He pulled out completely.

The sudden emptiness made me sob. "No..no, please"

He flipped me onto my back in one smooth motion. Spread my legs wide, hooked them over his shoulders. Looked down at me eyes blazing, cock glistening with my arousal.

"Eyes on me," he commanded. "Watch who's fucking you."

He thrust back in deeper angle this time. I screamed his name.

He leaned down, caging me, forearms braced beside my head. His mouth crashed over mine brutal, claiming. Tongue fucking my mouth in time with his cock. I tasted myself on him. Tasted us.

One hand slid between us. Rough thumb found my clit rubbing fast, merciless circles.

"Come," he growled against my lips. "Come all over Daddy's cock. Now."

The command shattered me.

The orgasm hit like a tidal wave harder than the first, violent, blinding. My whole body seized, back bowing off the mattress, walls pulsing around him in frantic waves. I screamed into his mouth, nails raking down his back, marking him.

He didn't stop.

Kept fucking me through it harder, faster chasing his own release now. His rhythm faltered, breaths turning ragged.

"Where do you want it, princess?" he rasped. "Tell me."

"Inside" The word flew out before I could think. "Please fill me up. I want to feel it."

A guttural groan ripped from his throat.

He slammed in one last time deep, deep and came with a roar. Hot pulses flooded me, thick and endless. I felt every spurt, felt him throb inside me as he marked me from the inside out.

He stayed buried, grinding slow, lazy circles, milking every last drop while I trembled beneath him.

When he finally pulled out, I whimpered at the loss. Warmth leaked from me his cum, mine, mixed. Filthy. Perfect.

He didn't let me wallow.

Lucian rolled to his side, pulling me against his chest. One arm banded around my waist, possessive. His free hand stroked down my spine surprisingly gentle now. Soothing the places he'd just wrecked.

"Breathe," he murmured against my hair. "You did so good."

I buried my face in his neck, inhaling smoke and leather and sex. My body still buzzed, oversensitive, wrecked in the best way. Tears slipped out again quiet this time. Relief. Release. Something dangerously close to safety.

He felt them. Thumb brushed them away.

"No crying unless it's because I'm making you come too hard," he said softly. Teasing, but tender underneath.

I laughed shaky, raw. "Too late."

He kissed my forehead. "Then cry all you want, princess. I've got you."

We lay like that for long minutes rain still pounding the windows, city lights flickering through the streaks. His heartbeat thumped steady under my cheek. Strong. Real.

Eventually he shifted, easing me onto my back again. He disappeared for a moment came back with a warm cloth. Cleaned me gently between my legs, careful with the tenderness there. Then himself.

When he slid back into bed, he pulled the sheets over us. Tucked me against him like I belonged there.

"Sleep," he said. Not a suggestion.

I wanted to argue wanted to ask what this was, what tomorrow looked like but exhaustion crashed over me like a wave.

My eyelids drooped.

Just before I slipped under, I whispered, "Thank you."

His arm tightened around me.

"Sleep, Lila."

I did.

But when morning came gray light filtering through the rain-streaked windows I woke alone.

The bed was cold on his side.

Panic clawed up my throat.

His clothes were gone. No note. No number.

Just the faint scent of him on the sheets, the delicious ache between my legs, and the crushing realization that last night might have been exactly what I'd asked for

A beautiful, filthy mistake.

I sat up, hugging my knees, staring at the empty space where he'd been.

And for the first time since walking in on Ethan and Mia, I didn't feel broken.

I felt... awake.

But also terrified.

Because I had no idea who Lucian Kane really was.

Or how to find him again.

Chapter 5

The penthouse felt colder in daylight.

Gray morning light sliced through the half-drawn blinds, turning the black sheets silver-gray. I sat in the middle of the massive bed, knees drawn to my chest, staring at the empty space beside me like it might suddenly fill with Lucian Kane again.

It didn't.

His scent lingered smoke, leather, sex but that was all. No note on the pillow. No business card on the nightstand. No text lighting up my dead phone screen (battery long gone, charger nowhere in sight). Just silence and the dull throb between my legs reminding me last night wasn't a fever dream.

I'd begged a stranger to ruin me.

He had.

Thoroughly.

And then he'd vanished like smoke.

My laugh came out cracked. Of course he did. Men like that didn't do mornings. They did one-night obliterations and walked away clean.

I dragged myself out of bed on shaky legs. Every step pulled at sore muscles, tender skin, the faint bruises blooming on my hips where his fingers had gripped. I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror across the room and froze.

Mascara tracks had dried into faint black rivers down my cheeks. Lipstick smeared. Hair a wild tangle. Neck marked with faint red blooms from his teeth. Breasts still flushed, nipples dark and sensitive. Between my thighs God. Dried evidence of him, of us, streaked my inner thighs like war paint.

I looked wrecked.

I looked alive.

For the first time in years, I didn't hate what I saw.

I found my ruined dress crumpled near the door, panties shredded beyond saving. No bra to begin with. I slipped the silk back on anyway clammy now, wrinkled, clinging in all the wrong places. Barefoot, I padded through the suite.

Kitchen. Living room. Bathroom.

Empty.

Immaculately clean. Like no one had ever been here except me.

The minibar was stocked. I grabbed a bottle of water, chugged half, then splashed the rest on my face. Cold shock. Better.

My phone finally found on the entry table blinked to life when I plugged it into the suite's charger. Notifications exploded across the screen.

Mom: 17 missed calls.

Ethan: 8 texts (I didn't open them).

Mia: 3 voicemails.

Work: 2 emails marked urgent.

Reality slammed back like ice water.

I had a life to return to. A canceled wedding to explain. An apartment that wasn't mine anymore. A job I suddenly remembered I still needed.

I dressed as best I could smoothed my hair with wet fingers, wiped away the worst of the mascara with a tissue. Slipped my broken heels back on. Took the private elevator down.

The lobby was quiet. Early Saturday morning. The concierge gave me a polite nod, no judgment in his eyes.

Either he saw this kind of walk-of-shame every weekend, or he was very well paid to mind his own business.

Outside, the rain had stopped. The city smelled clean, wet asphalt and coffee from somewhere. I hailed a cab, gave my address our address Ethan's and mine.

Halfway there, I changed my mind.

"Actually... take me to Reed Enterprises Tower instead."

The driver glanced in the rearview. "You sure, miss? That's downtown. Traffic's gonna be hell."

"I'm sure."

I didn't know why. Maybe because I needed to feel in control of something. Maybe because showing up at work looking like I'd been thoroughly fucked would be the most honest version of myself I'd presented in years.

Or maybe just maybebecause a tiny, reckless part of me hoped that the man who'd disappeared this morning owned half the skyline and might be waiting behind one of those glass walls.

Reed Enterprises. The name had been everywhere lately billboards, news, the new tech merger that swallowed three smaller companies whole. Billion-dollar shadow. Cold. Ruthless. Untouchable.

Exactly like him.

The cab pulled up outside the sleek black tower forty minutes later. I paid with the last of the cash in my clutch, stepped out barefoot (heels in hand screw it), and walked straight through the revolving doors.

Security stopped me immediately.

"Ma'am, ID and appointment?"

I lifted my chin. "Lila Harper.

Marketing department. I work here."

The guard frowned at my appearance wet dress, bare feet, wild hair but swiped his tablet.

"Badge?"

"Lost it," I lied smoothly. "Long story. Can you call up? Tell them I'm coming in to... handle a personal emergency."

He hesitated, then buzzed someone.

Two minutes later, the elevator dinged. A woman in a crisp blazer stepped outmid-thirties, sharp bob, no-nonsense eyes.

"Lila Harper?"

"Yes."

She looked me over once. Didn't comment on the state of me. "Follow me. Mr. Kane wants to see you. Now."

My stomach dropped through the floor.

Mr. Kane.

I followed her into the private executive elevator. She swiped a card. We shot upward fast, silent.

When the doors opened, it was straight into a corner office the size of my entire apartment.

Floor-to-ceiling glass. City sprawled below like a toy set.

And him.

Lucian Kane stood at the window, back to me, hands in the pockets of a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my car. Shoulders broad. Posture relaxed. Like he'd been expecting me.

The woman left without a word. Doors closed behind her.

He didn't turn around yet.

"You're late," he said quietly.

I laughed-short, disbelieving. "Late for what? You didn't leave a fucking note, Lucian."

He turned then.

Same midnight-blue eyes. Same scar on his jaw. Same mouth that had devoured me last night.

But this version wore power like a second skin. Cold. Controlled. Untouchable.

"Language, princess," he said mildly. "You're in my office."

My pulse roared in my ears.

"You knew who I was," I whispered. "Last night. You knew I worked here."

"I did."

The admission hit like a slap.

"You let me beg you. You fucked me like I was nothing. And then you left me in your bed like yesterday's trash."

He crossed the room in three strides. Stopped just close enough that I could smell him again same cologne, same sin.

"I left because I had a board meeting at seven," he said. "And because if I'd stayed, I would've fucked you awake. Again. And again. Until you couldn't walk. And you have a presentation Monday you need to be able to stand for."

I stared at him. "You're my boss."

"Technically, I own the company you work for." His gaze dropped to my mouth. "And right now, you look like you've been thoroughly claimed by your boss."

Heat flooded my face and lower.

"You can't just "

"Can't what?" He tilted my chin up with one finger. "Make you come so hard you forget your own name? Mark you so everyone downstairs will smell me on your skin? Own every filthy little secret you gave me last night?"

My thighs clenched. Traitorous body.

"I should quit," I breathed.

"You won't." His thumb brushed my bottom lip. "Because you're already wet thinking about what happens next.

"

Damn him. He was right.

He leaned in, mouth hovering over mine. Not kissing. Just breathing me in.

"Monday," he murmured. "Nine a.m. My office. Wear something I can rip off easily."

Then he stepped back.

Dismissed me.

Just like that.

I stood there trembling, heart hammering, thighs slick again.

He returned to the window. "You're dismissed, Ms. Harper."

I turned. Walked to the elevator on numb legs.

As the doors closed, I caught his reflection in the glass.

He was smiling.

Small. Predatory.

Satisfied.

And I knew bone-deep, terrifying certainty

This wasn't over.

It was only beginning.