Storm in Silk

Sophia’s POV 

Three days.

That’s how long I was supposed to be confined to my room.

But punishment doesn’t work the way Xavier thinks it does.

Isolation? Silence? A room with a view of the ocean, soft sheets, and a bookshelf full of vintage poetry?

That wasn’t punishment. It was preparation.

Because the longer I sat in that gilded cage, the more I realized something terrifying.

He didn’t just want control.

He wanted submission and submission wasn’t in my blood.

By the second day, I’d stopped pretending to read. The books blurred in front of me. My mind circled one thing over and over like a shark circling a drop of blood in open water.

The office. The file. The photos.

The way his voice changed when he said I belonged to him.

I kept replaying the way he’d pinned me without touching me. The threat of something more in every word. The heat that surged inside me when he got close.

And worse, how much I wanted more of it.

That realization made me furious.

So on the third night, I changed the game.

I wore red.

A slip dress I found tucked in the back of the guest room closet. Barely-there straps. A neckline that plunged too deep and a hem that flirted with indecency.

I let my hair fall in waves. Applied a single touch of lipstick.

Then I left my room at precisely 7PM. Dinner time.

Xavier was already seated at the long dining table, scrolling through something on his phone. He didn’t look up at first.

Then he did.

And I knew I’d won the first point.

His fingers froze then his jaw tightened.

He took me in from head to toe, once, slowly, like he was memorizing something he wanted to destroy.

 “You’re not supposed to be here,” he said, voice lower than usual.

“I was hungry.”

“You’re still grounded.”

“Then ground me harder.”

He stood slowly.

His chair scraped against the polished floor.

“Don’t test me, Sophia.”

 I walked to the table, hips swaying more than necessary. Took the seat directly across from him.

“You made the rules,” I said lightly, “but you forgot one important thing.”

He folded his arms. “Enlighten me.”

“You’re not the only one who enjoys a challenge.”

We didn’t eat. The air between us was too thick.

He watched me sip wine. I watched him clench his jaw every time I licked my lips.

The tension didn’t simmer anymore. 

When I leaned forward to reach for the butter, the strap of my dress slipped.

His eyes followed the motion.

I didn’t fix it. 

He stood so fast his chair nearly toppled. “Come with me.”

I raised a brow. “Why? You planning on locking me in again?”

He didn’t answer.

Just turned and walked.

I followed.

Not because I was obedient.

Because I wanted to see how far I could push him before he broke

He led me into the study this time. A darker room. Richer. Fire crackling in the corner like it had its own secret to tell.

He closed the door, turned and said nothing.

“What’s the matter, Xavier? Cat got your tongue?”

“You think this is a joke?”

“No. I think this is foreplay.”

He crossed the room in two long strides.

I backed into the wall.

He caged me there with both arms, palms flat beside my head.

“You like this?” he growled.

“Yes.”

“You like being punished?”

I met his gaze. “Only when you’re the one doing it.”

That was it.

The dam broke.

He grabbed my waist and spun me around, pressing me to the wall.

His mouth hovered at my ear. “You want me to ruin you?”

“Yes.”

“Then say it.”

“Ruin me, Xavier.”

He didn’t kiss me. 

But his hands gripped tighter. His breath shook. His control slipped just enough for me to feel the chaos under his skin.

And then…

He stepped back.

“I’m not done breaking you yet.”

He walked out, leaving me breathless.

But this time, the door didn’t click shut.

It stayed open like it was an invitation or a warning  

I wasn’t sure which I wanted more.

The moment the door didn’t close behind him, I knew it was intentional.

He wanted me to sit with it.

The desire.

The denial.

The ache he left in his wake like a bruise that hadn’t formed yet.

I stared at the open door long after he walked out.

My skin still burned where his hands had touched me. My ear pulsed where his breath had whispered against it. My pulse? Still pounding like a war drum beneath silk.

He wanted me to beg. 

The house creaked with silence that night.

Not even the ocean waves could drown the thoughts in my head. Thoughts of him. His voice. His grip. The way his eyes looked at me like he wanted to devour and damn me all at once.

I turned over in bed for the fifth time. Nothing worked.

Sleep had abandoned me.

And so had pride.

I slid a hand down my stomach slowly.

I shouldn’t. I knew that.

But I couldn’t help it.

My thighs ached. My skin was sensitive to the brush of the silk sheets. My mind flooded with the image of Xavier caging me against the wall, his voice rough with restraint.

You want me to ruin you?

Yes.

My fingers slipped beneath the waistband of my panties. I closed my eyes, breath stuttering.

I imagined his mouth. His hands. The weight of his body over mine.

I imagined the things he would whisper if he wasn’t too busy punishing me for my rebellion.

I moaned softly.

The release didn’t come easy, it built slow, cruel. Like he was still controlling it somehow, even in my fantasies. Like my body was his and it knew it.

When it finally hit, I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

But it wasn’t enough.

Not even close. 

I wanted his hands. His voice. His mouth.

And that terrified me.

Because I wasn’t supposed to want any of this.

I curled into myself after, angr

y and hot and shaken. 

The craving was inside me now and it had Xavier Rodriguez’s name written all over it.