Chapter 15
fifteen
. . .
The headline on my tablet screen stares up at me, bold black letters that make my stomach drop like I'm in a plummeting elevator: "DISGRACED BUSINESSMAN RAYMOND PARKER MISSING FROM FEDERAL PRISON.
" I read the article twice, my pulse thudding in my ears like a warning drum.
Raymond disappeared during a prison transfer three days ago—vanished without a trace while being moved from one facility to another.
No signs of escape. No body found. Just gone, as if he simply ceased to exist between one moment and the next.
Authorities are investigating, the article says, but have no leads.
I set the tablet down with hands that refuse to be steady, a cold certainty settling in my chest. This is no coincidence, no random prison escape.
This has Sutton written all over it, as surely as if he'd signed his name to Raymond's disappearance.
Three days ago. The same night Sutton came home late, clothes impeccable as always but with a certain tension in his shoulders that had melted away after he'd taken me with unusual ferocity, as if exorcising some dark energy from his system.
The same night he'd whispered "it's done" against my skin as I drifted off to sleep, words I'd assumed were meant for me, a promise of satisfaction delivered.
Now I'm not so sure.
The sound of the front door opening pulls me from my thoughts. I quickly close the browser on the tablet, pulling up a shopping site instead—one of the many Sutton has given me unlimited access to, his way of ensuring I want for nothing within my gilded cage.
"Cecily?" His voice carries through the penthouse, a deep baritone that still sends involuntary shivers down my spine after all these weeks.
"In the living room," I call back, trying to keep my voice steady, casual.
He appears in the doorway, impeccable as always in a tailored suit that clings to his powerful frame like a lover's hands. His eyes find me immediately, a slight smile softening his features in a way reserved only for me.
"Shopping again?" he asks, nodding toward the tablet as he crosses the room to kiss me hello. His lips are warm against mine, the touch brief but possessive.
"Just browsing," I say, setting the tablet aside as he sits beside me on the couch. "How was your day?"
"Productive." His arm slides around my shoulders, pulling me against his side. "Yours?"
I hesitate, debating internally whether to bring up what I've discovered. Sutton values honesty between us—demands it, even—but there are certain topics we dance around, certain questions I've learned not to ask directly.
"I saw something interesting online," I say finally, deciding on a middle path. "About Raymond."
I feel him tense beside me, the slight stiffening of his shoulders the only outward sign of his reaction. "Did you?" His voice remains neutral, controlled.
"He's missing." I turn to look at him, studying his face for any reaction, any tell. "Disappeared during a prison transfer."
Sutton meets my gaze steadily, his expression revealing nothing. "I saw that," he says, his tone conversational, as if we're discussing the weather rather than a man's mysterious vanishing.
"It's strange, isn't it?" I press. "That he would just... disappear like that?"
"Is it?" Sutton's hand traces idle patterns on my shoulder, deceptively casual. "A corrupt businessman with enemies on both sides of the law? I imagine there are quite a few people who would prefer Raymond Parker no longer exist."
The implication hangs in the air between us, unspoken but unmistakable. I swallow hard, gathering my courage. "Sutton, did you—"
His finger presses against my lips, silencing the question before I can fully form it. "Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to, little one," he says softly, the gentle tone belying the steel beneath his words. "Some things are better left unknown."
I pull back slightly, frustrated by his evasion. "But I do want to know. If you had something to do with this—with what happened to Raymond—I deserve to know."
Something flashes in his eyes—annoyance, perhaps, or warning.
His hand slides from my shoulder to cup the back of my neck, firm but not painful.
"You don't need to ask," he says, his voice dropping to that register that never fails to make my stomach tighten with a mixture of apprehension and arousal.
"You don't need to know the specifics. All you need to know is that he will never bother you again.
That I took care of it, as I promised I would. "
He doesn't confirm or deny his involvement directly, but his meaning is clear enough. Raymond is gone, and Sutton is responsible, though in what way remains deliberately vague.
I should be horrified. Should be terrified of what this man I've given myself to is capable of. But all I feel is a confusing mixture of relief and gratitude, tinged with guilt at my own complicity in whatever has happened.
"Was he..." I start, then falter, unsure how to phrase the question delicately. "Is he...?"
"He's not coming back," Sutton says simply, the finality in his tone leaving no room for further questions. "That's all that matters. That's all you need to concern yourself with."
His hand slides from my neck to my chin, tilting my face up to his.
"You're safe now," he says, his voice softer.
"Truly safe. No loose ends. No lingering threats.
" His thumb traces my lower lip, his eyes darkening as they follow the movement.
"You belong to me completely now. Nothing from your past can ever touch you again. "
The possessiveness in his words, in his touch, should disturb me more than it does. Instead, it sends a familiar heat coursing through my veins, a shameful arousal at being wanted so completely, so consumingly that this man would eliminate anything that threatened his claim on me.
"Sutton," I whisper, his name a question and a plea all at once.
He understands, as he always does. His mouth claims mine in a kiss that's all possession and hunger, his hands pulling me onto his lap so that I straddle him, the thin material of my dress doing little to hide the heat building between my legs.
"I can feel how wet you are already," he murmurs against my lips, his hands gripping my hips, guiding me into a slow grind against the hardness beneath his trousers. "Does it excite you? Knowing what I'm capable of doing to protect what's mine?"
I should deny it. Should be horrified by his question, by the truth it exposes. But I'm tired of lying, tired of pretending I don't want exactly what he's offering—this dark, all-consuming possession that promises both captivity and freedom.
"Yes," I admit, the word barely audible even to my own ears. "God help me, it does."
His smile is predatory, triumphant. "I knew it would," he says, his voice rough with desire. "Knew you'd understand, deep down, that true protection requires certain... sacrifices of conventional morality."
Before I can respond, he stands, lifting me with him as if I weigh nothing.
He carries me across the room to the floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of the city below, now lit up in the early evening darkness.
Without setting me down, he turns me in his arms so that I face the window, my back pressed against his chest.
"Look at it," he commands softly, his breath hot against my ear.
"All those people down there, living their small lives, bound by rules and expectations they never questioned.
" His hands slide down my sides, gathering the material of my dress, pulling it up slowly.
"But you and I, we're different. We make our own rules. Create our own world."
I stare out at the city spread below us, at all those distant lights representing lives I'll never touch, people I'll never know. From this height, they seem insignificant, reduced to mere specks in the vastness of Sutton's domain.
His hands push my dress up to my waist, exposing me to the cool glass of the window. I gasp at the sensation, at the vulnerability of being so exposed despite being sixty floors above the street.
"Anyone with a telescope could see you now," he murmurs, his voice dark with possession as one hand slides between my legs, finding me already wet for him. "See how ready you are for me. How desperate you are to be claimed."
I should be embarrassed, should pull away from the window. Instead, I arch into his touch, a moan escaping my throat as his fingers explore me with expert precision.
"That's it," he encourages, his free hand coming up to cup my breast through the thin material of my dress. "Show me how much you want this. How much you want to be mine."
I hear the sound of his zipper, feel the blunt head of him pressing against me a moment later. He enters me in one powerful thrust that makes me cry out, my hands flying up to brace against the window as he fills me completely.
"Look out there," he commands, his voice a growl in my ear as he begins to move within me. "Look at the world I've given you. The safety I've created for you. The freedom that comes from being completely, irrevocably mine."
I obey, my eyes taking in the glittering cityscape as Sutton's thrusts drive me against the window, each one pushing me higher toward that peak of pleasure that only he has ever shown me.
The contrast is dizzying—the cold glass against my heated skin, the vast openness of the view juxtaposed with the intimate, primal act taking place against the window.
"No one will ever threaten you again," he promises, his rhythm growing more urgent as his control begins to slip. "No one will ever touch what's mine. I've made sure of it. Made sure there's nothing left in this world that could take you from me."
His words, dark and possessive, push me closer to the edge. One of his hands slides from my hip to between my legs, finding that bundle of nerves that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
"Come for me," he demands, his voice rough with strain. "Come around me while you look at the world I've conquered for you. The world that will never hurt you again."
His fingers circle my clit with merciless precision, his thrusts deep and relentless, and I shatter, pleasure crashing over me in waves that seem endless. I cry out his name as my inner muscles clench around him, pulling him deeper.
"Mine," he growls in my ear as his own release follows, hot and pulsing deep inside me. "Forever mine."
We stay like that for long moments, connected in the most intimate way possible, my body pressed between his and the window, both of us staring out at the city that feels like a separate world from the one we've created here in his penthouse.
When he finally withdraws, turning me in his arms to face him, there's something almost tender in his expression despite the possessiveness still evident in his touch.
"No more questions about Raymond," he says softly, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. "No more looking back. Only forward. Only us."
I nod, understanding the bargain he's offering. My safety, my pleasure, my place in his world—all in exchange for my silent complicity in whatever methods he deemed necessary to secure them.
It's a devil's bargain, perhaps. But as he gathers me in his arms, as he carries me to our bedroom with that mixture of possession and reverence that still takes my breath away, I can't bring myself to regret it.
Raymond is gone. The past is truly buried now. And in Sutton's arms, in his protection, in his obsession, I've found a peace I never thought possible—even if it's built on foundations others might find disturbing.
"Mine," he whispers against my hair as we lie tangled together in the aftermath of passion. "All mine."
And God help me, that's exactly what I want to be.