Xavier awoke abruptly, sensing the chill of an empty space next to him. The bed lay cool and untouched, devoid of any lingering warmth. Shifting his position, a derisive sound escaped his mouth, assuming Cathleen must be in the bathroom freshening up. Memories of their passionate night danced at the fringes of his thoughts—her tired sighs echoing in the quiet room, her form yielding to the unyielding tides of pleasure he had extracted from her core. Against his will, a faint smile flirted with his expression."Needy, weren't you?" he murmured to the empty room, picturing her chained form on the spanking bench. Her beauty in bondage was a vivid image that both infuriated and captivated him. The soft light filtering through the curtains highlighted the absence he felt—an absence that gnawed at his insides, stirring a dangerous cocktail of desire and unease.Minutes dragged into a half hour, yet there was still no sound from Cathleen. With a furrow in his brow, Xavier rose, the silk shee
Caleb strode into the flower shop, urgency etched on his face as he scanned the vibrant throng of blossoms that crowded the small space. The scent of fresh-cut stems mingled with the earthy hint of damp soil—a stark contrast to the emotional storm clouding his thoughts. He exhaled, trying to steady his racing heart."Please, I need your help," he said, locking eyes with the florist, who was trimming the thorns off roses with a practiced hand, her movements precise and almost violent in their efficiency.The florist looked up, her smile a sharp slash across her otherwise plain features. She set her shears down with a decisive click against the counter. "Of course. How can I help?" she asked, her tone light but her eyes probing, sensing the undercurrents of turmoil that Caleb carried with him like a second skin.Caleb returned the smile, though it was a strained affair, tugging at the corners of his mouth with all the warmth of winter's chill. He could feel the weight of Xavier's trust
Xavier's mood was unusually upbeat as he strolled into the grand foyer of his family's estate. He greeted everyone with a genuine smile, a marked difference from his usual indifferent demeanor as he walked past the imposing marble columns and ancestral paintings. The staff looked at each other in confusion; their usually stoic young master was acting out of character today, and his cheerful voice reverberated off the high ceilings."Morning, Mrs. Potts," Xavier called to the housekeeper, his voice smooth but with an edge that hinted he wasn't entirely comfortable with this new approachable demeanor. Her response, a cautious smile paired with a twitch of surprise, was noted but not acknowledged as he ascended the staircase toward his father's study.Xavier confidently approached the massive oak door and rapped on it with a commanding force, a clear sign of his power and lineage. Pushing the door open without waiting for permission, Xavier stepped into the quiet sanctuary of old Mr. Kni
Xavier paced the length of his dim-lit study, each step a silent drumbeat echoing the tumult in his mind. Two full months had passed since that night with Cathleen—his wife, his supposed perfect sub—and now there was nothing but silence. Ridiculous. His fingers ached for his phone again, to try her number just once more, but he knew it was futile. She wasn't picking up; she was gone."Fuck!" The word erupted from him as he spun on his heel, whiskey sloshing against the sides of its glass prison. He slammed the drink down onto the rich mahogany on the table and fixed his gaze on the framed photo. Their wedding day. A mockery.He sneered at the image, at the smiling faces that seemed to mock him from across the chasm of these past weeks. "Why the fuck did I fall for her after just one night of fucking? One fucking night, and I was a fucking goner!" Xavier's voice was a growl, self-loathing threading through the question like poison.His hand closed around the glass again, the liquid fir
Cathleen's fingers hovered over the collection of leather-bound tomes that lined her study, the silence broken by a buzzing phone against the rich mahogany desk. She snatched it up, her eyes narrowing at the caller ID—her father-in-law's name lit up on the screen. A rush of thoughts flooded her mind: had Xavier told his father that she wasn’t at their matrimonial house? But as she answered the call, his gruff and demanding voice surprised her with a request for a family lunch the following day. Cathleen ended the call with a sharp nod and a heavy sigh, dreading the inevitable awkwardness of the gathering."Damn you, Xavier," she muttered, the very thought of him igniting a wildfire within her. The scent of his skin, the strength of his hands—they haunted her, a ghostly caress that left her reeling. Yet the image of him entwined with another, especially Olivia seeped poison into the fantasy. It was the fear of becoming just another conquest in his gallery of women that kept Cathleen at
"Xavier," she managed her voice a husky whisper that belied the steel in her gaze. "This isn't a game.""Isn't it, though?" He stepped closer, each movement calculated to rattle her composure. "You keep running. I keep chasing. It seems like a game to me, Cat. We both know how much you love to play."Her throat tightened, and words lodged like shrapnel. This man, this infuriatingly irresistible force, knew just how to wield control and manipulate the tension between them until it sang like a plucked string."Stop this," she said, her command brittle. But even as she uttered the words, Cathleen knew they were fuel on the fire of his desire—an invitation scrawled across the distance that separated them."Make me," he dared, twisting those sinful lips with a half-smirk.The room contracted, the air heavy, charged with the electricity of their silent standoff. Here stood Cathleen, a woman who bent courtrooms to her will, now teetering on the precipice, one push from tumbling into the abys
The dawn had barely broken when Xavier's voice cut through the stillness of the manor. "Take the day," he instructed the household staff, his tone brooking no argument. They dispersed with quiet nods, leaving the mansion to its master and mistress.Retreating to his quarters, Xavier stripped away the remnants of the night, the water cascading down his body in rivulets as he showered. Each drop seemed to invigorate him, fueling the anticipation of how the new day would unfold.Freshened up and dressed in crisp casuals, Xavier descended the grand staircase. The scent of something being prepared wafted from the kitchen, guiding him. There, he found Cathleen, her silhouette accentuated by a dress clinging to her curves beneath an apron. Desire surged within him, unbidden yet undeniable."What are you making?" he queried, stepping into the kitchen, his eyes drinking in her form.Silence answered him; a wall of resentment built from the night before hung between them. Her focus remained on
The morning light spilled into the grand dining room, casting a judgmental glare on Cathleen as the guests streamed in. Eyes darted her way, and whispers hung in the air unspoken. The tousled hair, the flush on her cheeks, the slight disarray of her silk robe—all silent testimonies to the stormy scene that just happened a few moments ago before Xavier opened that door. Cathleen's gaze flickered toward the bathroom door, longing for a minute to collect herself and wash away the evidence. But Xavier was there; his presence was a wall she could not bypass. His hand, firm on her lower back, made a claim that spoke volumes. Cathleen could feel the spill of Xavier’s sperm as she shifted a bit. Xavier knew she was uncomfortable, but he wanted everyone to know she was his and didn’t want to hide that they were now fucking just like every couple should. "Baby, I would like to start my day with your butternut soup." Xavier's voice, smooth and demanding, broke through the murmurs. His father, i