Chapter 11 Harper
Harper
There was something deeply unfair about how much time I’d spent picking out an outfit for a man who technically, and definitely, shouldn’t know who I was. He wouldn’t even see me, and yet, here I was fussing about what to wear.
I stared down at the fourth dress I had tried on—black, simple, fitted in a way that made my waist look like something sculpted with intent instead of being an accidental part of my body that was just… there. It was cute. Confident. Safe.
But it was not what I was going for.
So instead of settling on the dress, I riffled through my open suitcase and pulled out the dark green slip dress—the one I swore I’d never wear unless I felt like ruining someone.
Apparently, tonight, I did.
The fabric was cool against my skin as I pulled it on. Thin straps, and a hem that brushed my ass if I shifted wrong. Or right.
My phone buzzed on the couch. I glanced at the screen and immediately bit back a smile.
If you make me wait long, I’ll assume you’re doing it on purpose.
And I’ll punish you accordingly.
Heat rushed up the back of my neck, my fingers flying across the screen.
I wouldn’t dream of being late. I’ve heard your punishments come in the form lectures on the formatting of contracts.
His reply came instantly.
Don’t tempt me. I can turn formatting into foreplay if I try hard enough.
I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the burn behind them. He was not talking to me. He was, but he didn’t know that.
If he did—if he realized the woman texting him from across the city was the one who sat fifteen feet outside his office door—would he still want me?
Would he still touch me the way he did?
Would he still whisper “good girl” into my hair like it meant something?
I shook off the thought and typed out a response.
But tempting you is so fun ;)
Without waiting for his response, I quietly slipped on my heels, clutching my purse tight enough to make my knuckles white. Damien’s door creaked open before I could sneak past it.
He leaned against the frame, still half-dressed in his oversized hoodie and sweatpants, his tail swaying behind him, eyes gleaming with that mix of amusement and brotherly concern.
“Heading out,” he said casually.
I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Last minute session.”
He smirked. “How’s the app working out?”
“Better than I’d expected,” I said, sliding on the second heel. “He’s… different.”
Damien stepped closer and ruffled my hair. “Good. Just keep your guard up, okay? Even if it is a pheromone thing, don’t let them take advantage of you.”
“I will. I’ll text you when I’m back.”
He shook his head, grinning. “You’re sleeping on my couch, Harp. I’ll hear you.”
I laughed, pulling the door open. “Fair point.”
I swallowed as I walked toward the sound of heavy panting—ragged, sharp, almost painful.
Each click of my heels echoed across the marble floor, counting the steps that led me to him.
Ambrose writhed in the chair as he bared his fangs, a sickly-sweet scent filling the large bedroom. His blindfold was tied in a tight knot behind his head, his muscles coiling as he fought against the iron cuffs that kept his hands bound behind his back.
“I know you are there,” he bit out, voice rough with need. A growl curled from his throat. “I can smell your desire, Flower.”
My fingertips brushed over his shoulder, slow and deliberate, tracing the curve of muscle up the side of his neck. He shuddered beneath my touch.
When I raked my nails gently beneath his chin, tilting his face up toward me, a low sound escaped him—half warning, half plea.
“I know you are there,” he bit out past the growl that was rumbling through his sweat-beaded throat. “I can smell your desire, Flower.”
Sneaking up beside him, my fingers dancing along his shoulder, the tips of my nails traced up his neck, coaxing a shiver from his body before raking under his chin, tilting his head up to meet me.
My heart thundered in my chest as the smell of his mating pheromones drew out my own desires. They were stronger than usual, thick and heavy in the air, perfuming off every inch of his body.
My heart thundered in my chest.
His pheromones were everywhere.
They were stronger than usual, thick and heavy in the air, perfuming off every inch of his body.
He didn’t even realize how difficult it was to be around him when this happened. Like every part of myself became undone—exposed for his pleasure, for his touch.
“Still not speaking, Flower?”
His voice caressed my ears, sending a shiver down my spine, pulling me out of my thoughts as I swallowed passed the dryness in my throat.
My heart raced as I breathed in his sweet scent.
What would he do if he found out?
How would he react if he knew it was me?
And why did I want to hear him call my name?
With one leg on either side, I straddled him. Leaning in, I breathed in his scent—his pheromones seeping into every cell of my body, wrapping themselves around pieces of me I didn’t know were vulnerable until he had touched them.
My lips brushed his.
The barest ghost of a kiss.
A taste.
A tease.
“Flower, you are going to kill me.” He dropped his head forward until his forehead pressed against my chest, panting like he was on fire. “Please, Flower. I need you,” he moaned.
My fingers raked up the back of his neck into his hair. I pulled his hair back as my lips crashed into his and, as if he were stealing the breath from my lungs, he kissed me back with a desperation that threatened to leave me addicted to him.
I waited until his tongue danced with mine, I waited until I could practically taste his hunger, and then I pulled away again.
More.
Show me that I am the only one who can make you like this.
“Flower,” he warned, his voice cracking at the edges like the last thread of control was about to snap. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
But I did.
Oh, I did.
I knew exactly what I was doing.
My lips were still tingling from the kiss, and my fingers ached to touch more—to claim more. To be claimed. But instead, I leaned back just enough to watch him. He was trembling, sweat glistening down his throat, muscles taut and vibrating with restrained need.
Dragging my nails lightly across his chest, another growl rumbled from his throat, lower this time. Darker.
He shifted beneath me, hips bucking involuntarily, his hard cock grinding against my wetness as the cuffs rattled violently.
“If you keep teasing me like this…” His head tipped back against the chair, “…I will break the chains.”
Oh, I’m counting on it.
I reached down to where his cock was straining against his pants. I trace my finger up along the zipper, before pulling it down with agonizing slowness as I lower myself to kneel between his legs.
Ambrose’s head fell back in the chair as I freed his large, silver cock, my breath fanning the tip as my eyes landed on something… shiny?
My eyes widened.
So that is what I had felt…
The tip of his cock is pierced with a small silver hoop, a silver ball at the top.
Swallowing the dryness in my throat, I licked up the length his cock until I reached the piercing. Once I did, I suck the head into my mouth, my tongue flicking between the tip and the piercing.
My efforts were rewarded by Ambrose’s writhing beneath my touch, his hips bucking forward as I took him deeper into my mouth.
A pang of pride swelled in my chest at the proof that I could make him feel as undone as he made me, my confidence growing with each moan and whimper I managed to coax out of him.
“Fuck,” he moaned as the chains rattled and scraped against the floor.
Joining him in his pleasure, I moaned around the length of him as I braced my hands on his thighs, my nails digging into his flesh.
“Sorry, Flower,” he growled between labored breaths, “I’m at my limit.”
I looked up at him through my lashes and before I could react, he broke the chains, and his hands were on me. Pulling me off him and lifting me up as he stood, both hands on my ass, he forced me against the wall.
“Did you have fun playing with me?” He asked, slamming me down onto his cock with surprising swiftness that had me gasping for air. My nails scraped up his back as a shocked and breathy moan finally escaped me. “Fuck,” he purred into my ear.
Tears began to well in my eyes as he relentlessly claimed the deepest parts of myself, marking me as his, showering me with his pheromones until my mind was left in a haze.
“You feel so fucking good, Flower.”
I bit my lip to stop myself from moaning too loud as wave after wave of please washed over me again and again at a maddening pace, completely overwhelming my senses.
His claws bit into the reddened skin of ass as he held me in place, as if I ever once thought about escaping him.
As if I could even think at all when all my thoughts were completely, utterly consumed with him—the smell of him, the feel of his rough hands clawing at my skin, the sound of his seductive voice.
As if I hadn’t found myself wishing for this.
Wishing for him to claim me.
To ruin me for anyone else.