Chapter 33 Landon
LANDON
Islam the car door, rage pulsing through my veins. Second place. Fucking second place because Knox cut me off on that final turn. The Ducati’s engine ticks as it cools in the parking garage.
The elevator ride to the penthouse does nothing to cool my temper. The race was mine. It should have been mine. Twenty thousand dollars and the respect that comes with it—gone because that asshole played dirty.
I unlock the door, expecting to find Sadie hunched over her laptop as she claimed she needed to be. Instead, the sight that greets me freezes my blood.
Sadie and another woman—Jolene, her friend from the photos I’ve studied—are curled up on opposite ends of my leather sectional, both fast asleep with empty wine glasses and takeout containers on the coffee table.
So much for needing to work.
I cross the room in three strides and flip on the overhead lights. “Wake up.”
Both women jolt awake, disoriented. Sadie’s eyes widen when she registers my presence, fear immediately replacing drowsiness.
“I thought you needed to work,” I say. “Seems you had time for a social call instead.”
Sadie scrambles to sit upright. “I—I did work. We just—”
“You invited someone into my home without permission.” I turn my gaze to Jolene, who’s glaring at me hatefully. “Who the fuck said you could be here?”
Jolene stands, crossing her arms. “If Sadie has to live here, then it’s her home too. You can’t keep her locked up like a prisoner.”
My vision narrows, a familiar darkness creeping in at the edges. The audacity of this woman to speak to me this way in my own home. I imagine wrapping my hands around her throat, watching the defiance drain from her eyes as she realizes her mistake.
But Sadie needs her. I’ve seen their messages, studied their friendship. Hurting Jolene means losing whatever fragile connection I’ve built with Sadie.
“Get out,” I tell Jolene. “Now.”
Jolene steps toward me, shoulders squared. “You don’t own her. Contract or not, you can’t keep her isolated from everyone she cares about.”
I feel my fingers twitch at my sides. The woman has no idea how close she is to experiencing what happens when someone challenges me in my own territory.
“Jolene, please,” Sadie interjects. She places a hand on her friend’s arm. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
The concern in Jolene’s eyes is obvious as she searches Sadie’s face. “Are you sure? Because this isn’t—”
“I know what I signed up for,” Sadie says, casting a nervous glance my way. “Let me walk you out.”
I watch, seething as Sadie guides her friend toward the door.
“Call me tomorrow, okay?” Jolene lingers in the doorway. “Promise me.”
Sadie nods. “First thing in the morning. I promise.”
Like fuck she will.
She’s clueless. I built walls so nothing could touch what’s mine. She let a stranger past them. Part of me wants to make her pay; another, louder part wants to pull her close and never let anyone else in. I don’t know which I’ll choose yet.
I maintain my position, silent and still, watching as Sadie closes the door behind her friend. When the lock clicks, she keeps her back to me for several seconds, shoulders tense, clearly aware of the storm brewing behind her.
I wait, watching Sadie’s back as she stands frozen at the door, her fingers still curled around the handle. The penthouse is charged with my rage like it’s a living thing prowling between us.
“Turn around.” My voice comes out calm.
She hesitates before slowly facing me. Her eyes meet mine briefly before dropping to the floor.
“You invited someone into my home.” I take one step toward her. “You let a stranger into my space while I was gone.”
“Jolene isn’t a stranger,” Sadie says. “She’s my best friend.”
“Did I give you permission to have visitors?”
She swallows hard. “No, but—”
“No. That’s the only answer that matters.” I close the distance between us, towering over her. “Everything in this penthouse belongs to me.”
“I’m not your property.” A flash of defiance crosses her face. “The Hunt didn’t make me your slave.”
I grab her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze.
“The contract you signed says otherwise. You surrendered your right to consent, to privacy, to independence. For one year, you are my butterfly, only mine.” I narrow my eyes.
“What did you tell her?” I demand, tightening my grip. “What secrets did you share about us?”
Her pulse flutters beneath my fingers like a trapped bird. “Nothing. We just talked about work.”
“Liar.” I trace my thumb across her lower lip. “I saw the way she looked at me. She knows.”
Sadie’s breath catches. “Knows what?”
“About this.” I press my thumb against the healing carving beneath her collarbone—my initials marking her as mine. “About what happens when you’re alone with me.”
“She needed to know I was safe,” she whispers.
“Safe?” I laugh. “Is that what you told her? That you’re safe with me?”
I back her against the door, placing my palms flat on either side of her head. Her scent fills my nostrils, making my blood surge.
“What exactly did you share with your friend? Did you tell her how I carved my initials into your skin? How I fucked you while you were unconscious? Or did you tell her how you beg for more when I’m inside you?”
Her breath hitches. “I told her the truth.”
“Which is?”
“That you drugged me. That you marked me without consent.” Her voice trembles. “That you’re dangerous.”
An unfamiliar and unpleasant sensation twists inside me. Not rage, not arousal, but a profound feeling that I don’t want to examine.
“And yet you’re still here.” I trail my fingers down her throat. “You could have left with her. Could have run. But you didn’t.”
“The contract—”
“Fuck the contract.” I press my body against hers, pinning her completely. “We both know that’s not why you stayed.”
Her eyes meet mine. “Then why did I?”
“Because you’re as broken as I am.” I lower my mouth to her ear. “Because no one else understands the darkness inside you like I do. Because deep down, you crave what I give you.”
I grip Sadie’s wrists and drag her toward the bedroom, enjoying how she stumbles to keep up with my long strides. Her fear is palpable, but I can feel her pulse racing beneath my fingertips.
“You need to be reminded who you belong to.” I shove her onto the bed, watching her bounce against the mattress. “And what happens when you disobey me?”
I yank her leggings down her legs, followed by her panties. She tries to close her thighs, but I force them apart, kneeling between them.
“Don’t,” she whispers, but she’s already wet.
And I know she has her safe word, if she really wants me to stop, she’ll use it.
I run my fingers through her cunt, collecting her arousal before bringing it to her mouth. “Taste yourself. Taste how much you want this punishment.”
She turns her head away, but I grab her jaw, forcing my fingers past her lips.
I position myself between her legs again, lowering my mouth to her center. She gasps as my tongue finds her clit, circling it slowly. I feel her hips rise to meet me.
“That’s right,” I murmur against her pussy. “Show me how much you want this.”
I build her up slowly, watching her writhe as she approaches the edge. Just as her breathing quickens and her thighs begin to tremble, I pull away completely.
“No!” The word escapes her before she can stop it.
I smile coldly. “No? I thought you didn’t want this.”
“Please,” she whimpers, hips seeking contact.
“Please what?”
“Please don’t stop.”
I lower my mouth again, bringing her to the edge once more before denying her release. Her frustrated moan is music to my ears.
“This is what happens when you let strangers into my home without telling me.” I circle her entrance with my finger, never pushing inside. “You don’t get to come until I decide you’ve learned your lesson.”
I continue my torture, bringing Sadie to the edge repeatedly before pulling away. Each time, her pleas grow desperate, her body trembling with need. Sweat glistens on her skin as she writhes in the sheets, completely at my mercy.
“Please,” she gasps, her voice breaking. “I can’t take any more.”
“Actions have consequences,” I remind her, circling her clit lightly with my thumb.
Her back arches as I increase the pressure before removing my touch entirely. A strangled sob escapes her throat.
“I’m sorry,” she cries. “I won’t do it again.”
I stand, unbuckling my belt. “Show me how sorry you are.”
She watches with hungry eyes as I free myself from my pants. I grip her hair, pulling her toward me.
“Open,” I command.
Her lips part immediately, and I thrust into her mouth without warning. Her eyes widen as I hit the back of her throat, but she doesn’t pull away.
Good girl.
“This is what happens to naughty girls,” I growl. “You don’t get to come. Only I do.”
I tighten my grip on her hair, guiding her movements as I fuck her throat. Tears stream down her face, but her eyes remain locked on mine—defiant even now. That look drives me wild.
The sight of her like this—on her knees, taking all of me into her pretty little mouth, struggling to breathe—pushes me over the edge faster than I anticipated. I hold her head firmly against me as I come down her throat, forcing her to swallow everything.
As I pull back, I notice her thighs trembling, her breathing erratic in a familiar way. She’s coming. From nothing but my cock in her throat.
“Did you just—” I stare down at her in disbelief. “You came from choking on my cock?”
She drops her gaze, a flush spreading across her cheeks.
“You fucking naughty girl.” I grip her chin, forcing her to look at me. “I didn’t tell you that you could come.”
The sight of her swallowing my release, tears streaking her face as her body trembles with her own climax, stirs a dark hunger inside me.
“Open your mouth again,” I command.
She hesitates for a second before complying, her lips parting as she looks up at me through wet lashes. I gather saliva in my mouth, then lean over her and spit it between her lips. It lands on her tongue, mixing with the remnants of my release.
“Swallow it,” I order. “All of it. My cum and my spit.”
Her throat works as she obeys, swallowing everything I’ve given her. Not a trace of disgust crosses her features—only complete, exquisite surrender.
A strange tightening constricts at my chest, and I don’t want to examine it or what this woman is doing to me. Sadie takes everything I throw at her. Everything dark and twisted inside me, she absorbs it, reflects it back, and still asks for more.
“You’re fucking perfect,” I confess. “Absolutely fucking perfect.”
I grab the back of her neck and crash my mouth against hers, kissing her with bruising force. I taste my cum on her tongue and groan. My teeth catch her lower lip, biting hard enough to make her whimper but not hard enough to draw blood.
Her hands come up to grip my shoulders, neither pushing me away nor pulling me closer—just holding on as though I’m the only solid thing in her world. And I want to be just that. I want to become her entire world, the way she is becoming mine.