Chapter 6

Layla's POV

I didn't know how long I stared at him for. All I knew was his words sounded ridiculous like what the hell was he talking about? The thought never even crossed my mind, especially not after what Ryan had done. It wasn’t even like I could recognize love if it slapped me in the face.

I felt my body hijacked by need so I nodded quickly to whatever he meant.

He steadied his arm firm around me, his grip was possessive yet careful. I rested my head against his shoulder, my heart thudding in my chest. I felt every flex of his muscles as he carried me through the private elevator and up into his penthouse.

Everything felt like a dream. Yes. It had to be a dream.

There was no way I’d be in this position with a random man I met at a bar if this was real. A public pub, to be precise. I wasn't the type to throw myself at men or grovel at their feet for sex. Hell, I usually reject them without thinking twice.

Jordan had offered me a promotion in exchange for sex, and I had said no. Because the man disgusted me even if I wasn't in a relationship at the time.

Yes, I was in a futile relationship at the time so it doesn't count.

I didn't want to wake up from this dream. I could barely process anything except the heat radiating from his body as he held me in his arms. Like I wasn’t a mess of sweat, alcohol, and desperate need clinging to his shirt.

I barely registered the sound of the door clicking shut behind us. He sat me down carefully on his velvet couch like I was made of glass.

God, why didn't you send this man to me before I met Ryan?

My dress had ridden up. My cheeks were flushed. My eyes, glassy from the alcohol, scanned the place with a kind of dreamy disconnection.

His home was dark and minimalist like him. Everything inside screamed expensive. There were no signs that anyone else ever lived here. No woman.

“I can walk,” I muttered, even though it sounded pathetic. My words were slurry, breathless.

He stood in front of me, jaw locked, his eyes dark. He stared at me silently like he was debating whether to fuck me or throw me out.

But I knew he wouldn't attempt the second option. He had brought me home for a reason.

He could’ve dropped me off like a gentleman. He could’ve ignored the kiss we shared outside the pub and never opened that car door.

But now I was inside his world, and it was too late for him to pretend otherwise.

He looked at me like I was the only thing worth staring at. My hair was messy, lips red and swollen from our kiss in the car, and the dress I wore was hanging on by a thread.

I faced him. “Why are you standing there like I’m about to explode?”

“Because you are,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair.

I giggled, light-headed, heat curling inside me again. “I just want to be touched. Is that too much to ask?”

He swallowed thickly. He didn’t answer at first. He just stared at me like he was trying to hold back something dangerous.

“You need water,” he said finally, his voice low and firm.

“I need you,” I pouted.

Still, he walked over to the bar, grabbed a cold bottle of water, twisted it open, and brought it to my lips. I obeyed like a bratty child. I drank half of it. He wiped the corner of my mouth with his pad of his thumb.

“You’re no fun,” I pouted again. “Thought you’d kiss me again. You kissed me like you meant it.”

His jaw twitched. I saw his hard cock jump beneath those tailored pants, begging to be unleashed. And it turned me on even more.

“Layla, you’re drunk,” he muttered, his voice raspy. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Layla? How did he know my name? Did I tell him unconsciously?

I really don't care though.

I smiled lazily. “Drunk, not dead. I know exactly what I’m saying.”

I stood, a little unsteady, and walked toward him, reaching for his chest. He caught my wrists before I could touch him.

That firm grip? It made my thighs clench instantly. Fuck.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, voice low and dangerously calm.

I nodded slowly.

“Use your words,” he growled.

“Yes, Daddy. Touch me. I’ll be good. I just want to be yours.”

His breath hitched. “Daddy?”

Did I just say that?

I hadn’t even thought about it. The word just… slipped out. It felt right. And from the look in his eyes, it did something to him too.

“Please…” I whispered again, softer this time. “Just make me feel something else. Just for a night.”

My voice cracked. My whole body felt like it was wired. My submission came out naturally, like it had always been hiding beneath the surface. With him, it didn’t feel wrong.

His control snapped. He pulled me into his arms and spun me around, bending me over the couch in one swift movement. My dress hiked up, exposing my ass. His palm smacked down on it, hard.

I yelped, breath catching in my throat. “Shit—”

“That’s for teasing me in the car,” he growled behind me.

Another sharp smack landed.

“And that’s for calling me that without permission.”

“You like being punished, princess?” His hand slid to my throat, holding just enough pressure to make me gasp. “Or are you just desperate for attention?”

I whimpered, barely able to speak. “Yes, Daddy. I like being punished.”

“Say it.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

A groan ripped from his chest. “That’s my good girl.”

My panties were soaked. His fingers brushed the lace and I almost came on the spot.

I was shaking. Needy. His dominance was like a drug to me.

“I’ll give you what you want,” he rasped, “but you follow my rules.”

I nodded quickly, frantic. “Yes. Yes, Daddy. Anything.”

He pulled me up and spun me to face him. His eyes studied mine.

I felt like I was unraveling. My head was spinning from alcohol, need, and the weight of all that happened today. But God, I needed this.

“Strip,” he ordered.

My fingers were clumsy on the straps of my dress. I laughed breathlessly, trying to peel it off. He helped me, groaning when my breasts bounced free.

His mouth was on me before I could think.

He sucked hard on one nipple, then the other. His tongue was relentless, his teeth scraped gently and made me cry out. My body arched into him. My fingers were tangled in his hair. I couldn’t get close enough.

He had me in his lap the next second. I could feel his cock, hard and demanding beneath me. I rolled my hips against him, sloppy and needy.

“This isn’t me,” I mumbled. “I don’t do this. I don’t…”

He grabbed my face, his touch firm but tender. “It is you. Right now, it’s exactly you.”

His fingers slid between my thighs and found my soaked panties. I was dripping for him. No one had ever made me feel like this before.

When his fingers sank into me, I clenched hard, gasping. “Fuck—”

“You got wet just from my voice, huh?” he whispered in my ear. “You want to be used like a toy, don’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy…”

“Good girl,” he praised darkly. “You’re being so good now.”

His fingers moved expertly inside me. It was slow, curling, steady that I couldn’t even think.

My moans filled the room, raw and shameless. Just his fingers were working wonders on me. But it felt better than anything Ryan ever gave me.

Chapter 7 Who the hell was that?

Layla’s POV

My eyes fluttered open, only to snap shut again as a sharp, throbbing headache pulsed behind my temples. A low groan escaped my lips.

“What the hell…” I muttered, my hands flying to my head like I could press the pain out. My entire body ached in places I couldn’t even name.

I blinked slowly, trying to adjust to the unfamiliar ceiling above me.

This wasn’t my apartment. And it sure as hell wasn’t anywhere I recognized.

Where the hell am I?

“How much did I drink last night?” I mumbled, my throat raw. I rolled over sluggishly, my arm sweeping across the bed in search of my phone.

Instead, my hand landed on something solid. Something warm like a human body.

I froze. My breath caught in my throat as I blinked again, heart hammering. My fingers had brushed the unmistakable shape of a man’s chest. I yanked my hand back like I’d touched a fire.

Slowly….so slowly ... .I turned my head to look.

The man beside me was lying on his back, one arm resting lazily across his chiseled abs. The sheet was barely covering his waist. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, his lips parted slightly in sleep. His long lashes brushed against sharp cheekbones, and a light stubble lined his jaw, catching the golden morning light pouring through the massive glass wall behind us.

He shifted a little, and I got a clearer look at his face.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

I slapped a hand over my mouth.

Asher Sterling. CEO of Veridan Tech. Ryan’s boss. He owned several multi million dollar companies in the state.

The same man I had only seen once or twice when I was still with Ryan. I remembered his face, the cool air around him, the way everyone else tensed when he walked into a room.

And now I was in his bed? Naked?

My stomach flipped violently. My skin felt hot and ice cold at the same time.

How did I even get here? Did something happen? What the hell did I do?

Images started flashing in my head; the car… his lap… my voice whispering things I couldn’t repeat out loud. His mouth. My moans.

I pushed the sheets off me slowly, wincing at the dull ache between my legs.

I tiptoed across the room like some criminal escaping the scene. I grabbed the dress, wriggled into it, scooped up my heels and purse from where they were tossed like afterthoughts, and bolted for the hallway.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I needed to leave before this man woke up.

The hallway outside the room was sleek and cold, all expensive finishes. Security cameras? The thought sent a fresh jolt of panic through me.

This was the kind of place I wouldn’t even be allowed to visit, much less sleep in.

I didn’t dare look back. I spotted the elevator at the far end.

Please work. Please be empty.

My heart hammered against my ribs, I jabbed the elevator button three times like that’ll make it come faster.

The doors finally slide open. I rushed inside. My heart pounded in my ears. My heels were clutched in one hand. The other braced against the mirrored wall as I tried to steady my breathing.

What the hell had I done?

The soft ping sounded unnaturally loud in the silence. The doors slid open. Empty. Thank God.

The morning air hit me hard. I rushed onto the sidewalk, flagging the first taxi I saw. I practically collapsed into the backseat.

The driver didn’t say anything. Just nodded when I gave my address and started driving.

Thank God for that. I leaned my head against the window and squeezed my eyes shut.

Everything was a blur. Bits and pieces came back to me, but I couldn’t put them in order.

The divider in the car going up. Me climbing onto his lap. His hand on my throat. His voice in my ear. That word falling from my lips.

Daddy.

Jesus. What the hell was wrong with me?

I didn’t remember everything, but what I did remember made my stomach turn.

My phone?

I had checked my purse twice for it but I couldn't find it. I might’ve dropped it at home. Or maybe I left it at his place. God.

By the time we pulled up to my building, I was barely holding it together. I dropped my heels by the door and walked straight to the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face and stared at my reflection in the mirror.

My eyes were tired, red around the rims. My lips were still a little swollen. Red prints dotted my neck and collarbone. I loosened the robe slightly and looked down and saw more marks on my waist.

They were evidence that l wasn't hallucinating.

God, what was I thinking? What if he thinks I’m just some lost girl with no self-respect? Then again... why should I care what he thinks? I gave him what he wanted, and I took what I needed. End of story.

I backed away from the mirror, pulling the robe tighter around me.

I collapsed onto my bed, but the second my head hit the pillow, another flash hit me. My hands gripping his shoulders. His groan. His mouth on my breast. His fingers inside me.

I sat up straight, my heart pounding.

Where the hell was my phone?

I scrambled around the apartment, tearing open drawers, tossing aside blankets, digging through my purse again. Nothing. Checked the kitchen counter. Nothing. The bathroom sink. The couch. Still nothing.

I was about to search under the bed when a loud knock hit the door. I froze.

Another knock, louder.

“Hold on!” I called out, yanking my robe closed and walking slowly to the door.

I cracked it open an inch.

“Bitch, open the damn door! What are you doing in this hole all locked up?”

Maya, my best friend, stood there, curls tied up in a messy bun, Starbucks cup in hand, and an oversized tote bag slung over one shoulder. She brushed past me like she owned the place.

I stepped aside, rubbing my forehead.

She tossed her bag on the couch and turned to me. “You disappeared. I got back from New York last night.”

“You did?” I blinked at her. “Why didn’t you call?”

“I did. Like, Five times. But guess what?” She held up one perfectly manicured finger. “Some man answered your phone.”

My body stilled. “A man?”

Maya plopped onto the couch, looking entirely too amused. “Yup. Deep voice, all grumpy like I’d woken him up. I asked who he was but he didn't say instead he told me you were asleep and couldn’t come to the phone. Then hung up on me. But girl—he had that deep, bossy voice. It was sexy as hell.”

I swallowed hard. “He answered my phone?”

“Oh yeah. I’m still mad he hung up on me, though. But now you have to spill. Who the hell was that?”

I didn’t answer.

Maya narrowed her eyes. “Don’t tell me you finally went and got some dick.”

I blinked.

“Oh my God. You did.” She sat up straighter, grinning. “Girl, I’ve been telling you for months. Live a little! Forget that waste of oxygen fiancee, you've got. So tell me, who is he? How was it? Are we doing a walk of shame brunch or a celebratory one?”

My knees gave out and I sank onto the edge of the couch. “I… I need to sit,” I whispered.