The beginning of the End

The penthouse wasn't just a home, it was power. Floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the city lights, black marble floors that reflected the low golden glow from the recessed lights. Everything was cold and expensive the leather couch, the silent bar in the corner, the huge bed in the middle of the room that looked like it had never been slept in. It smelled like him  expensive cologne, leather, and something dangerous. I felt small in there. Trapped.

His fingers slid slowly along my thighs and a soft moan escaped my lips before I could stop it. He pinned me gently to the wall, his grip dominant, possessive. "Please... gentle," I whispered.

He leaned close, his voice low against my neck "I don't do gentle"

his breath hot on my skin.

My heart was pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it. The city lights from the penthouse windows painted stripes across his bare back, across those hard muscles I had been trying not to stare at all night.

He didn't rush. That was the worst part. He took his time, one hand still tangled in my hair, the other holding my waist like he owned it. Like he owned me.

"You've been teasing me all night in this little dress," he murmured, pressing his forehead to mine. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

I couldn't answer. My lips parted but no sound came out, only another shaky breath as his mouth found my neck. Slow, deliberate kisses that made my knees weak.

The next thing I knew, we were on the bed  the huge, cold, untouched bed that now felt too hot. He hovered over me, white hair messy, eyes dark.

He looked at me like he was waiting. Like even though he was in control, he needed me to say it.

I nodded. "Don't stop."

And he didn't.

He kissed me like he had been starving, one hand gripping the sheets beside my head, the other tracing fire up my side. My dress had ridden up, his trousers were the only thing left between us, and the friction was addening. I arched into him and he let out a groan.

"You are all mine" he whispered. "That's what you do.... isn't this what you want?"

The penthouse was silent except for us ,my soft moans, his ragged breathing, the rustle of silk against expensive sheets. Outside, the whole city was moving, but in here, time had stopped.

A sharp gasp left my lips as he moved closer, as our bodies finally met. Pleasure shot through me and my hands clutched at his shoulders.

He didn't let up, his rhythmically thrusting..deep and possessive, his eyes never leaving mine. "You feel that?" he growled.

I could only nod, biting my lip, my voice shaky.

"Say it. Who do you belong to?"

"You," I whispered."

Mummy.... mummy.. see.."

Leo's little voice snapped me back.

I blinked. My hand was frozen over the pot, the spoon dripping. The stew was bubbling, the kitchen smelled like onions and spices,

I had drifted again. To that night. To his hands in my hair, his voice against my neck.

God.

"That's a dinosaur, mummy! See!"

Leo, 4 years old, stood beside me in his little socks, holding up his green T-rex with so much pride. My baby.

I quickly stirred the pot and forced a smile, my cheeks burning.

"You were making noises again, mummy," he said, tilting his head.

I crouched down and kissed his forehead, hoping he couldn't see how flustered I was.

"Was I? Mummy was just thinking, my love. Just thinking. Go and sit, dinner is almost ready, okay?"

He ran off, and I stood there gripping the kitchen counter, trying to push the thought of that night out of my head.

But it wouldn't leave.I picked up my phone, tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and called my husband. The call went straight to voicemail.

"Hey, babe," I said after the beep. "Dinner's almost ready. Aren't you done with work yet? Leo and I are waiting for you. Call me back when you get this, okay? Love you."