Chapter 14
Everly
It took everything in me not to look up from my book. Silas must’ve thought I was deaf if he believed I hadn’t heard him rush up the stairs like a man possessed. But this was the game we played—he stalked, I ignored.
And even when I lost, I still won.
He moved in, and I glanced up.
“Silas,” I breathed his name.
He still looked exactly as he had when I first started noticing him growing up—always in a sharp suit, hair smoothed back, the weight of authority clinging to him like cologne.
He’d shaved the stubble since returning to the office, but it was those ice-blue eyes—cold, cutting, such a stark contrast to the richness of his dark hair—that undid me every time.
I’d latched onto him before I even understood what fixation was. Since I was old enough to notice the way women looked at him. Tall. Powerful. Always in control. He was everything my mother didn’t deserve.
And now, after three weeks under his roof?
The infatuation hadn’t faded. It had mutated. Deepened. Turned into something darker. Possessive.
“Are you finished?” he asked, nodding to my open laptop.
“Yes,” I said, biting back a smile.
He was still sore about this morning—waking up to me joyriding his cock like I had nowhere else to be. He’d had an early call with some stiff across the globe and had warned me.
Slow down, he’d growled.
But I didn’t. I rode him until his hands fisted the sheets and he spilled inside me, my breasts bouncing against his face as I milked him dry.
“How was the office, dear?” I asked sweetly, setting my book down.
“Boring,” he said, casually setting his leather laptop bag on the desk.
“What did you get up to?”
“I missed you,” I said with an exaggerated pout. “Had to make use of my vibrator by lunchtime.”
A bold lie. I’d barely looked away from my screen—I’d been working nonstop just so I could finish early… for this.
His eyes sharpened instantly.
“Is that fucking right?” he hissed.
“Hm,” I hummed, pretending to consider it as his eyes roved over me—hungry, narrowed, already imagining ways to punish me.
“It took the edge off,” I murmured, slowly stretching my arms overhead, teasing him with the rise of my sweater, “but…”
I trailed off deliberately.
He waited.
“But what?” he bit out, voice sharp with demand.
“It wasn’t you, Silas. It wasn’t your big dick inside me, hitting all those places my fingers and toy couldn’t reach,” I said, watching the flicker in his expression—irritation giving way to something far darker.
That did it.
The air shifted, turning thick and electric.
He moved without a word, yanking his tie loose with one hand, the other already undoing the top button of his shirt. Controlled fury rolled off him in waves.
“I see,” he muttered, voice low and dangerous. “So you were unsatisfied.”
“No,” I said, slow and deliberate. “I was waiting.”
His jaw flexed, and he started towards me.
Each time he lost control was one more fuck you to my mother.
He pulled me to my feet, his hands cradling my face like I was something precious—something breakable—before he kissed me. Hard. Purposeful. He twisted his head, sealing our mouths together, deepening the kiss until I melted into him.
His warmth wrapped around me like possession. My fingers slid beneath the sharp line of his suit jacket, clutching at his waist as I ground my mound against the hard ridge of his cock.
He growled against my lips.
Then he pulled back—just enough to glare down at me, one hand gripping my ass like a warning. His eyes flicked to my wet, parted lips… then he was on me again. Mouth over mine, devouring me.
“Such a filthy little fucktoy,” he breathed, voice rough with heat as soon as he released me.
He grabbed the hem of my sweater and dragged it over my head, tossing it behind him without looking—his focus entirely on me. Then he shrugged out of his jacket, letting the grey fabric fall to the floor like it meant nothing.
“Clothes off,” he snapped, clearing the desk with a sweep of his hand, moving my book and laptop aside. “And bend over.”
I didn’t hesitate.
Not for a second.
With my clothes off, chair pushed back, I spread my legs and bent over the desk. Silas has left his trousers on. I swear the man loved having me smeared all over his clothes.
“So you think it’s acceptable to play with my cunt without me being here?” he asked, voice too calm to be safe.
I heard the faint click of his belt.
“I did think of you when I came, if that helps,” I said, flashing a grin he couldn’t see.
The metal buckle jingled before the leather slid free. I glanced over my shoulder—just in time to see him fold the belt in half, slow and deliberate.
He smiled.
There was no humour in it—just a cruel, slow twist.
He lowered the belt and tapped it against my pussy, deliberate and unhurried, before dragging the stiff edge along my slick opening.
I gasped, snapping my gaze forward as my fingers curled tight around the desk.
“So wet,” he murmured.
I risked a glance over my shoulder.
He was inspecting the belt, eyes dark with something unreadable. Calculating.
Perhaps I’d pushed too far today.
When he raised the belt into the air, I knew what was coming.
But knowing didn’t prepare me.
The blow landed with a crack—leather against flesh, sharp enough to echo. The sound sliced through the air and stole the breath from my lungs. Pain followed, white-hot and blooming, blooming until it merged with the throbbing ache between my legs.
“Yes,” I hissed, spine arched, fists clenched.
“Yes?” he echoed, incredulous.
I turned my face toward the window.
If I looked at him, I’d laugh—and he’d hate that.