Chapter 5 #2
Jenna arrived at the restaurant draped in black silk and diamonds, the kind of place where reservations were whispered favors and menus didn’t list prices.
Izzy had tried to make it right the moment she told him it was her birthday—booking the most expensive restaurant in the city, overcompensating in the way men always did when they were already behind.
She didn’t mind. Money was easy. Control was better.
Izzy had been with her for a month now, and still—still—he hadn’t known. The thought lingered in the back of her mind as she sipped champagne, watching him across the table. His smile was there. His touch, attentive. But his eyes kept drifting. Somewhere else. Somewhere she wasn’t.
After dinner, he took her to the hotel.
The master suite stretched wide and indulgent—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, lights like constellations beneath their feet.
The room was filled with excess: balloons, flowers, designer shopping bags scattered across the marble floor.
Chanel. Prada. Louis Vuitton. Champagne chilling in silver.
Jenna stood near the window, genuinely pleased. This—this was how a night was supposed to end. Grand. Decadent. Devoted.
Izzy sat on the edge of the bed, loosening his jacket, shoulders tense.
She noticed it then. The way his body was present, but his mind wasn’t. She’d seen that look before—usually drowned out by liquor, cocaine, music, the chaos they wrapped themselves in. But tonight was quiet. Too quiet.
Something was wrong.
Jenna never got nervous. Whatever it was, she could fix it.
She crossed the room slowly and sat beside him, lifting his chin with one perfectly manicured finger, forcing his eyes to meet hers.
“Talk to me, baby,” she said softly. “What’s wrong?”
Izzy exhaled, rubbing his face. “Nothing. Tonight’s about you. About everything I’m going to do to you—make sure you remember my name in your next life.”
The words should’ve satisfied her.
Instead, something cold slid down her spine.
She studied him, eyes sharp now. “You’re still stressed about that nobody, Rebecca, aren’t you?”
His jaw tightened.
“No,” he snapped too quickly. Then quieter, bitter, “I just want this over with. I want what’s mine. My money. I earned it. Four years of being her damn shadow.”
Jenna rolled her eyes, irritation flashing before she smoothed it away. She leaned in, lips near his ear, voice calm. Certain.
“Don’t worry, baby. It’s already taken care of.”
She pulled back, smiling as if nothing had shifted, hands sliding over his chest. “Now strip for me,” she murmured. “Let’s have some fun.”
Izzy hesitated. Just a fraction. A nervous glance.
But he knew better than to rattle the cage when it came to Jenna.
“Yes, baby,” he said.
And as the city pulsed beneath them, Jenna smiled—already several moves ahead, already deciding what would come next.
But Jenna didn’t want to ruin her own birthday, so she decided it was time to remove all this talk about Becca out of his mind.
Jenna peeled Izzy’s clothes off slowly, deliberately — like she was unwrapping something she already owned.
“Look at you,” she purred, tracing a nail down his chest. “All this ink… all this power.”
Izzy caught her wrist lightly, lifting it to his lips.
“It’s yours whenever you want it,” he said smoothly.
But Jenna didn’t want smooth.
She wanted surrender.
She stepped back, slipping into black and red lace, heels still strapped to her feet. The city lights poured through the floor-to-ceiling window behind her, casting her in a dangerous glow.
“On your knees,” she said softly.
Izzy blinked, a small crease forming between his brows. “What?”
“Crawl to me.”
She leaned against the glass, one hand braced above her head, watching him like prey.
There was hesitation — not confusion, but resistance.
“It’s my birthday,” she reminded him, voice silky. “Show me how much you want me.”
Izzy exhaled slowly. His jaw tightened.
After a long beat, he lowered himself down.
Jenna’s lips curved.
“That’s it… slow.”
He moved forward stiffly, clearly forcing himself through the act. Each movement lacked the desperation she craved.
Halfway across the floor, he stopped.
“This is stupid.”
He rose to his feet, irritation flashing now.
“I’m not a fucking dog.”
Jenna didn’t flinch.
She stepped toward him, heels clicking sharply against marble.
“I never said you were,” she said evenly. “I just like being desired. Desperately. Without pride getting in the way.”
There it was.
The test.
Izzy stared at her, ego flaring. “You want me to beg for something that’s already mine?”
The air shifted.
Izzy takes Jenna by her throat, his fingers tightening until he feels her pulse quicken beneath his grip. "You wanted control but never said who from. Let's try it my way."
His tongue drags up the column of her neck. He yanks the strap of her teddy down, palming her breast roughly before his teeth find her nipple. Hard.
Jenna gasps. "Fuck, Izzy—that's the beast I know and love."
He doesn't acknowledge her. His hand slides between her legs, feeling the heat radiating from her thighs. He hooks her panties aside and finds her clit already slick and swollen. "So, this is the type of shit that gets you hot, huh?"
She laughs—low, wicked. "You should know by now, baby. Anything you do to me makes me hot."
Her fingers reach for his belt, feeling his hardness straining against denim. He catches her wrist. Stops her cold.
"Not yet. You're mine tonight. I'm in control."
His finger circles her clit with deliberate pressure while his mouth works her neck, her ear, every sensitive spot that makes her squirm. Then he stops. Grabs her throat again and forces her down to the floor.
"Hands above your head."
She obeys.
He pulls his belt free with one smooth motion and binds her wrists together.
His knee wedges between her thighs, spreading her open.
The fabric of her teddy tears under his hands, exposing her flushed skin, her hardened nipples.
He cups her breasts, his mouth trailing down her stomach, her hip bones, the inside of her thighs.
Jenna's breathing turns ragged. "Right there, baby. Lower."
He stops. Looks up at her with something dark and hungry in his eyes. "You take what I give you. When I give it."
She surrenders.
His tongue finally finds her clit, and the taste of her floods his senses—salt and heat and pure need. He licks in broad strokes, then sucks, then adds his teeth just enough to make her cry out. Her moans fill the room, desperate sounds from the woman who's fighting so hard to keep him close.
She never wants this to end. Her mind spirals with wild, incoherent thoughts.
Two fingers slide inside her, curling to find that spot that makes her back arch. In and out, building rhythm. Then a third finger presses against her ass, breaching slowly while his tongue works her clit relentlessly.
Jenna unravels. Her chest heaves, sweat rolling between her breasts. He reaches up to cup them, pinching her nipples as his fingers and mouth drive her higher, harder, until she shatters—climaxing over his hands and mouth with a sound that's half-scream, half-prayer.
Izzy pulls his fingers out slowly, watching euphoria ripple through her body. Jenna's still trembling, chest heaving, when he stands and strips off his jeans. His cock springs free through the slit in his boxers—thick, hard, already glistening at the tip.
He drops back down and tears what's left of her teddy clean off, fabric shredding in his fists. She's completely exposed now, wrists still bound above her head, legs spread, skin flushed and damp with sweat.
His mouth crashes against hers—hungry, possessive. When he pulls back, he spits into his palm and wraps his hand around his shaft, stroking himself with deliberate, measured movements. The slick sound fills the space between them.
Jenna watches, transfixed, her breath catching. "What are you—what are you planning to do next?"
Before the last word leaves her lips, he drives into her.
Hard. Deep. All at once.
Jenna's moan tears from her throat—raw, unfiltered.
She feels *everything*. Every thick inch of him stretching her.
The ridge of his head. The heat. And then—*God*—the dermal piercing at the base of his cock, that small metal bead dragging against her with each thrust, hitting spots that make her vision blur.
"Fuck—Izzy—*fuck*—"
It drives her crazy. Always has. That piercing is her undoing every single time.
He begins to thrust. Hard. Fast. Aggressive. Like an animal closing in on its prey, every stroke deeper than the last. The piercing drags against her with each brutal snap of his hips, and she's already climbing again—second orgasm building like a wave about to crash.
His breath is ragged against her neck. "I want to fuck you till I tear you in half—" His voice drops, commanding. "But you're going to swallow my cum for me. Every. Fucking. Drop."
Jenna's eyes widen, confusion flickering across her flushed face. But before she can process it, he pulls out.
Grabs her bound wrists.
Hauls her up onto her knees.
She's still trembling, still on the edge of her climax when he stands over her, stroking himself with quick, desperate movements. His other hand grips her jaw, prying her mouth open.
"Take it. All of it."
She obeys.
The first rope of cum hits her tongue, hot and thick. Then her cheek. Her lips. He groans—guttural, unrestrained—as he empties himself across her face and into her open mouth. And that's what does it. The taste. The submission. The sheer filth of it.
Jenna shatters.
Her second orgasm rips through her without him even touching her, her body convulsing as she kneels there, cum dripping down her chin, accepting complete and utter defeat. This is what she wanted. What she's always wanted. To be his—entirely, without question.
But Izzy?
The high fades fast.
Reality sinks in like cold water.
He stumbles back, chest heaving, and slides down to the floor beside her. She collapses next to him, still bound, still trembling. Neither of them speaks. They just lie there—exhausted, exposed, the city skyline glittering through the window like a thousand silent witnesses.
He's too deep now.
And there's no way out.