Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Sophie
“Let’s continue.”
I seize on his words. Anything to escape the room that’s suddenly spinning around me.
Caleb leads the way down the wide hallway, and Lucian stops in front of another doorway.
He turns the knob.
The room is empty except for the gleaming polished hardwood floor that catches the soft overhead light.
During the day, sunlight would pour through the tall windows, making the space bright and airy.
“This is your space.”
Blinking, stunned, I face him. “Mine?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “We recognize this is a big change for you. And you might want an office for your client files. Or a reading room with a comfortable chair and all the behavioral finance journals you could desire.”
He’d been paying attention to every detail at my apartment.
I glance around again.
The walls are bare, waiting for whatever I choose to hang. The room is oversized and blank, an invitation.
“I…” Words fail me. I want to hate you.
Despite myself, I step inside.
For a heartbeat, I let myself imagine it—my laptop open on a wide desk, a cozy armchair tucked in the corner where afternoon light would spill across the pages of my books, maybe even a small sofa for quiet moments when the weight of everything else becomes too much.
“There’s a caveat.”
I spin. Of course there is.
“It’s for anything except sleeping away from us.”
And once more, he’s given me a reason to hate him.
“You belong there with us.”
“Says you.”
His eyes are as dark as they are unreadable. “So says I.”
We return to the main living area to find the table has been set with gleaming silver and crystal glasses that catch the low light from the chandelier.
Shocking me, they seat me at the head of the table, with Lucian and Caleb taking chairs directly across from each other.
There’s no subtlety here. I’m wedged between them.
Chef Amélie flames the duck breast right before us, the cherry reduction bubbling, fragrant and rich, then plates each portion with delicate swirls of sauce and fresh herbs.
I sigh.
If only my father had come to me years ago, instead of drinking and sitting at the poker table, we could have sorted the finances together, working the numbers.
Instead, he recklessly sold me to men I’d never give the time of day to under normal circumstances.
At the end of the meal, the chef clears the last plates and leaves us with coffee.
The city lights sparkle beyond the glass, but now that we’re alone, the room feels smaller, intimate in a way that makes my skin prickle with awareness.
Lucian leans back in his chair, the movement casual yet commanding, and his gaze darkens as it settles on me. “You are dessert tonight.”
My cup clatters against the saucer as shock ripples through me, making my cheeks flame.
“We want a preview of our wedding night.” Caleb’s rougher, lower voice slides down my spine like a caress that leaves me breathless.
Lucian’s tone remains velvet over steel. “Stand up for us, Sophie.”
“No.” I dig my fingers into the edge of the table.
“It wasn’t a request. We will see what belongs to us.”
I’ve already felt their hands on me, their mouths claiming mine, but this—this deliberate exposure in the bright light of their dining room—feels more vulnerable, more real.
Their eyes hold mine, unyielding, waiting.
“Do as I say, Sophie.”
I can’t. I just…can’t.
After an interminable amount of time, and my tension ratcheting higher and higher, he speaks, softly, so softly that he terrifies me.
“I’m happy to help you.”
I shiver.
“For a price.”
For a moment, I squeeze my eyes shut.
He pushes his chair back, the sound screaming in the silence.
“Wait!”
Steepling his hands, he regards me.
Shaking harder than I ever have in my life, I leverage the table to help me stand.
“Good girl.”
His approval slides through me, and I hate that I don’t hate it.
“Now lift your dress.”
My mouth falls open a little. He can’t mean that.
Caleb nods. “Do it, Sophie.”
Embarrassment floods every inch of me.
Despising their control over me, I reach for my hem.
My hands tremble as I pull it up to my hips.
Cool air kisses my bare legs, sending goose bumps over my skin.
“Turn around.” Caleb’s command is gentle but firm. “Show us your rear. Then bend over.”
Heat explodes across my face, but I hesitatingly obey, turning slowly.
Then I’m grateful to have my back to them.
Trying to detach, I bend at the waist. The position leaves me exposed, utterly on display.
“Beautiful,” Lucian approves. “Now face us again.”
When I turn back, their reactions hit me like a physical force. Both are visibly hard, the thick outlines of their cocks pressing against the fine fabric of their trousers, their eyes dark with hunger.
My breathing becomes more thready as awareness battles mortification.
“Now show us one of your breasts,” Lucian murmurs. “You may keep your bra on.”
They delight in keeping me confused as they stay one step ahead of me in a game I never agreed to play.
I fumble with the neckline of my dress, tugging it aside along with the cup of my bra until one breast spills free.
I look at the ceiling.
“At some point you will have to be naked with us. Comfortable, even. You can continue to dread this moment, and the anticipation will be worse the longer you put it off.” He pauses, letting his words settle. Then he softly adds, “Surely you’ve counseled clients to rip off the bandage.”
The reminder of my own professional advice is unwelcome.
Yet there is some merit to it.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I cup the bare curve, lifting a little, the way Caleb had last night.
“Open your eyes and look at me.” His voice is both soft, but rough. “I didn’t get to see your reactions last night.”
Where will their humiliation end?
When I follow his command, the heat in his gaze pins me in place.
Caleb leans forward slightly. “Stroke it gently.”
I circle the nipple, featherlight, and a helpless shiver races through me, my breath catching.
“Now roll it.”
I realize he’s repeating the sequence from the alcove.
“Roll it,” he repeats.
When I do, the sensation feels sharp, making me gasp.
“That’s it. Now tug on it.”
That sends a spark straight between my legs. Suddenly my other breast begins to ache.
“Squeeze harder.”
I do as he says, pinching with the pressure I remember from his hands, and a low moan slips out before I can stop it.
Caleb nods appreciatively while Lucian sips his coffee, calm and controlled, as if watching me unravel is the most natural thing in the world.
When I am trembling, totally turned on, my breath coming in shallow pants and my panties starting to dampen, Lucian sets his cup down with a quiet click. “That will be all. Thank you, Sophie.”
I blink furiously, shock crashing through my haze. “What?”
What am I supposed to do? Take my seat and sip my coffee, pretending that just hadn’t happened?
My body throbs, and their casual dismissal only heightens the frustration twisting through me.
“You’re everything we could hope for,” he tells me, standing, helping me to put myself back together.
I’m more confused than I ever remember being, and I’m still frowning when Caleb takes me home.
He walks me to my door, waits until I am safely inside with the lock secured before he leaves me alone with restless energy continuing to hum through me.
Still wondering what the hell happened back there, why they wanted that show only to reject me, I pour myself a glass of the cheap merlot and carry it into the bathroom.
The tub fills with steaming water while I light a few candles, their soft glow flickering across the tiles.
Trying to understand them and remembering things Piper said, I download a BDSM book and then sink into the water with a deep sigh.
I tell myself there is no way their actions and this book can turn me on, yet the words on the screen pull me in anyway.
There are vivid scenes of teasing dominance and eventual surrender that make my nipples tighten.
I picture myself as the heroine—bound not by ropes but by their steady gazes as Lucian’s velvet commands and Caleb’s rougher hunger strip me bare while they watch me come apart exactly as they did tonight.
But in my mind, their hands replace mine, mouths following, the fantasy so sharp that I press my thighs together.
What are they doing to me?
After the bath, I dry off slowly and wrap myself in my fluffiest robe.
Arousal is still simmering low and insistent, deep inside me, and every nerve ending feels alive.
In the bedroom, my phone vibrates on the nightstand.
I walk in to check it, and the screen is lit up with a text.
Do not masturbate.
The words stare back at me, and a storm of emotions rushes through me, frustration, annoyance. And more than a hint of defiance.
Those men have left me aching and unfinished like some toy they can wind up and put away.
But this is one place I refuse to let them control me.
They do not get to decide how I spend every single moment of my entire life.
Dropping the phone, I slip the robe open, let it fall to the floor, then climb onto the bed.
Closing my eyes, I slide my hand between my thighs.
I picture them—Lucian’s midnight-blue eyes locked on mine while Caleb’s voice guides me.
Both of them are stripped bare, cocks hard and heavy as they watch me touch myself for them.
I circle my clit, slowly at first, then faster, the fantasy sharpening until I can almost feel Lucian’s mouth on my breast while Caleb closes his fist in my hair.
A hot, demanding orgasm begins to build.
Squeezing my eyes more tightly, I roll my hips. My breath comes in ragged pants as I chase the release they’ve refused to give me.
My body arches, and then the climax crashes into me. I cry out in relief as I return to earth, trembling and spent.
After everything that’s happened recently, I needed to forget, needed the release.
My damn phone once again dances on the nightstand, and I snatch it up.
You were our good girl. Weren’t you?
I drop the phone beside me.
Their orders don’t matter.
After all, they’ll never know.
Right?