Sinfully His

I didn’t sleep that night. I couldn’t. Even after he said I should go back to my duties like nothing had happened. Even after I put my uniform back on with trembling fingers and slipped out of the suite like a ghost. My skin still felt the tension from where he had touched me. It was funny how my body responded to him. Shame curled up in my stomach like smoke. I should have felt humiliated. I should have been scared. But all I felt was the way his voice still echoed in my head. Come here. The way he said it made everything inside me come undone. I took a cold shower in the back dressing room, scrubbing until my skin turned red. The club had closed by then. Staff had gone. Lights dimmed. Silence stretched through the halls like a warning. I didn’t know what I was now. A waitress? A plaything? A mistake? It was almost dawn when I stepped out the back door, hoodie pulled over my damp hair, shoes squeaking with every step. The streets were nearly empty. I walked home with my arms wrapped

Chapter 4‎I woke up wrapped in silk sheets that didn’t belong to me.‎‎For a second, I didn’t move.‎‎I stared up at the smooth ceiling, watching the early morning sunlight filter through sheer curtains. The air smelled like cedarwood and something colder, sharper, like the man who owned this place.‎‎For a moment, I thought it was a dream. The kind that teases you with heat and power before the weight of reality yanks you back down.‎‎But when I shifted under the sheets and felt the soreness between my thighs, I knew it wasn’t.‎‎He hadn’t touched me last night.‎‎Not fully.‎‎But he had learned me.‎‎Watched me tremble from nothing but his voice. Pressed his fingers into the places that made me whimper without ever giving me release. He had made me beg. And when I finally shattered for him, he hadn’t even undone a single button on his shirt.‎‎He whispered, That’s rule one, Ivy. You cum when I say. Not before.‎‎Now it was morning, and everything was real.‎‎This was Day

‎I woke up sore.‎The ache was everywhere, as if the night had carved itself into my skin. My thighs trembled when I shifted, my wrists carried the imprint of the cuffs, and even my lips felt bruised. I pulled the sheets tighter around me and sank deeper into the mattress, wishing for a few more minutes where I could pretend the world outside the bedroom did not exist.‎It wasn’t just the soreness that held me still. It was the memory.‎‎Every detail came rushing back the moment I opened my eyes. The red glow of the room. The sting of the crop. Damien’s voice commanding me to yield, his hands pulling me apart, his mouth swallowing every sound I made until I had nothing left. He had stripped me of everything I thought I could hide, until there was only raw need and the cruel mercy he gave me when he chose.‎‎My body flushed hot beneath the sheets, shame curling with something darker. He had destroyed me and left me craving him in the same breath.‎‎I finally sat up, slow and stiff,

Chapter 8 ‎The silence clung long after Marco’s footsteps faded. I sat frozen, my palm pressed to my chest as if that alone could slow my racing heartbeat. Damien’s rules echoed inside me. Stay out of the right hallways. Do not wander. Consequences. ‎ ‎But what about the places he didn’t mention? ‎ ‎The thought lodged itself in me like a thorn. I told myself not to think about it, not to prod at the edges of his warning, but curiosity has a way of gnawing until there’s nothing left. ‎ ‎Hours passed. I heard the low rumble of voices downstairs, Marco’s steady tone and Damien’s clipped replies. Then the sound of the front door shutting, followed by the deep growl of an engine fading into the distance. ‎ ‎They were gone. ‎ ‎The house exhaled with their absence. What had felt like a prison moments before now seemed too still, too open, daring me to move. My legs carried me before my head could reason. I slipped into the hallway, my bare feet silent against the polished floor. ‎

Chapter 10The handle turned.‎‎For a breathless moment, I thought I had imagined it. My hand trembled on the knob, waiting for the sharp voice of Damien behind me or Marco’s shadow falling across the wall. But nothing came. No footsteps. No warning.‎‎The door eased open with a slow groan, the sound dragging through the silence like a warning I couldn’t ignore. My heart banged painfully in my chest, but still, I slipped inside.‎‎The air in the room was different. Heavier. The smell hit me first. Paper and dust, thick and stale, laced with something metallic, something I couldn’t name but that set my nerves on edge.‎‎I shut the door behind me, not daring to let the light from the hall betray me. The darkness inside was suffocating, absolute, until my fingers fumbled along the wall and found a switch. A single bulb flickered to life, dim and yellow, casting long shadows that swayed across the room.‎‎And that was when I saw them.‎‎Files.‎‎Dozens of them. Neat, stacked rows a