Chapter 11 #2
"I need—" I can barely form words. "I need—"
"You need to surrender. Completely." He withdraws his fingers and I hear him move, hear a low buzzing sound. "Let's see how well you can let go."
The vibrator touches my clit and I nearly come apart. The sensation is intense, relentless, nothing like his tongue. He holds it there while his other hand slides back inside me, and the combination makes me writhe against the restraints.
"Stay still," he commands. "Or I stop."
I force myself motionless even as my body screams for movement, for friction, for release. He works the vibrator in slow circles while his fingers pump inside me, and I can feel another orgasm building impossibly fast.
"Good girl. That's what I want to see. You, completely helpless. Completely mine." The vibrator presses harder. "Come."
The third orgasm rips through me, deeper than the first, sharper than the second. I pull hard against the ropes, the only outlet for the intensity flooding my system. He doesn't let up, keeps the vibrator on my clit through the aftershocks until I'm whimpering.
When he finally pulls it away, I'm shaking. Oversensitive. The sound of the vibrator stops and I hear him set it aside.
My mind is empty. Just Luc and the darkness and complete surrender.
I hear him moving, the rustle of fabric, the sound of a zipper. Then his weight settles between my spread legs and I feel him—hard, thick—pressing against my entrance.
"I'm going to fuck you now," he says, his voice rough with need. "And you're going to take everything I give you."
He pushes inside in one long stroke and I cry out. The stretch after the vibrator is almost too much, the fullness overwhelming. He gives me a moment to adjust, then pulls back and thrusts again.
"Tell me how it feels," he commands.
"Full," I gasp. "So full. I need—"
"What do you need?"
"More. Please. I need more."
He gives it to me. Sets a rhythm that's deep and relentless, each thrust hitting that spot inside me that his fingers found. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as he takes what he wants.
The buildup is different this time. Slower. Building from somewhere deep in my core. I pull against the ropes, not fighting them but needing their anchor as sensation builds and builds.
"You feel that?" His voice is strained now, control slipping. "That's what happens when you let go. When you trust me to take care of you."
His thumb finds my clit, circles it in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation pushes me closer and closer to the edge.
"Come with me," he growls. "Now."
The orgasm hits like a wave, rolling through me in long pulses that seem endless.
I feel him follow, his rhythm breaking as he buries himself deep and holds there.
The warmth flooding inside me extends the sensation, keeps me suspended in pleasure until I can't tell where one ends and the next begins.
He collapses against me, both of us breathing hard. After a moment, he withdraws carefully and reaches up to remove the blindfold. The light makes me blink. His face comes into focus above me—flushed, eyes dark, hair disheveled.
"Perfect," he murmurs. "You're absolutely perfect."
Words won’t come. My mind has drifted somewhere soft and weightless, everything sharp and demanding stripped away. No board meetings. No Armand. No corporate warfare. Only Luc, anchoring me in the quiet he’s created.
He unties my ankles first, massaging circulation back into my feet and calves. Then my wrists, checking the skin where the rope was, making sure there's no damage. His arms wrap around me and pull me against his chest.
"Good girl," he murmurs into my hair. "You did so well."
I press my face against his chest, feel his heartbeat steady beneath my cheek. The rhythm pulls me back into my body, into this moment.
"Better?" he asks after a while.
"Yes." My voice is hoarse. "Much better."
"Tomorrow you walk in and remind them who you are. Your father's daughter. The CEO he chose to lead that company. Not Armand's niece." His hand strokes down my back. "They'll see your strength. And if they don't, you show them anyway."
"Henry has the evidence."
"Henry has numbers. You have something better. The truth. You've proven it already." He tilts my chin up, makes me look at him. "Armand's already lost. He's just too desperate to see it yet."
I want to believe him. Lying here in his arms, I almost do.
"What if the evidence isn't enough? What if he's already convinced them I'm—" I stop, can't quite finish the sentence.
"Convinced them you're what? Someone who has private consensual experiences?" His voice hardens slightly. "Let him try. You're not ashamed. That's what he doesn't understand."
He's right. But hearing it and believing it—those are two different things.
"I'm scared," I admit. "Not of losing the company. Of having to defend myself for something that should be private. Of having people look at me differently."
"Some will. Some won't. The ones who matter will see past it." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "You're not doing this alone. I'll be there as will Henry."
I've been fighting alone for so long. The idea of having allies—real ones, not just business relationships—feels like breathing room I didn't know I'd lost.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For this. For helping me find calm when I couldn't get there on my own."
His shoulder lifts slightly. "That's what I'm here for."
We lie in silence for a while. He continues stroking my back in slow, soothing patterns. My eyelids grow heavy, my body loose and spent.
"Sleep," he says quietly. "I'll wake you in time."
"What about you?"
"I'll sleep. After I confirm security protocols for tomorrow and coordinate with Remy."
Of course he will. Because even in this quiet moment, he's still working. Still protecting me.
I let myself drift, trusting him to handle what I can't. The last thought before sleep takes me: this feels different than anything I've ever done at Dominion.
When I wake, early morning light filters through the curtains. Luc's already awake, standing by the window with his phone pressed to his ear. The rigid set of his shoulders tells me something's wrong.
"Understood," he says into the phone. "We'll be ready."
He ends the call, turns to face me. His expression is controlled but I can read the tension underneath.
"What's wrong?"
"That was Henry." He sits on the edge of the bed. "There's a leak. Armand knows we have the evidence. He called a press conference early this morning, before the board meeting."
My stomach drops. "He's going to try to get ahead of the story."
"Yes. He'll claim family dispute, paint you as unstable, make the board question you." Luc's voice is clinical. "It's a smart move. A desperate one."
I sit up. The reality hits—media coverage, public scrutiny, every relationship I have suddenly under a microscope.
"We need to counter it."
"We will. Henry's already coordinating a response.
But Simone—" He catches my chin, makes me focus on him instead of spinning scenarios.
"Whatever Armand says this morning, whatever accusations he makes, you hold your ground.
You know the truth. The evidence backs you. Don't let him make you defensive."
"He's going to attack me publicly."
"Yes. And you're going to walk into that board meeting and prove him wrong." His tone doesn't waver. "We knew this would get ugly."
I breathe and push myself into CEO mode. Armand wants me rattled, defensive, apologizing for things I haven't done. That's not who I am.
"What time is the press conference?"
"Early. Before the board meeting." He stands and offers his hand. "We need to move."
I take it and rise to my feet. Whatever Armand's about to say, whatever lies he's prepared—let him. He's the one who should be afraid.