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Kneel
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2025-07-24 04:52:14JUNO HAYES
I didn’t cry.
Not when I got home. Not when I locked the door. Not even when I looked in the mirror and saw the bruise blooming on my cheek like a secret I couldn’t hide.
I just… sat on the floor.
Cassie was out with friends. The house was quiet. Too quiet.
And my mind wouldn't stop replaying that moment—Rhett’s voice, his eyes, the way my body reacted.
Because the voice I heard in that lecture hall…
It wasn’t familiar.
It was too familiar.
But no. That was ridiculous.
Rhett Voss was my client. My student, technically. Younger. Brash. Not at all the man who—
I shook my head hard.
It had been months. I ended that part of my life. Closed the door. Locked it. I wasn’t going to let one deep voice undo everything I rebuilt.
Buzz.
My phone lit up beside me.
Unknown Number:
Room 806. Midnight. Kneel.
My stomach twisted.
My heart pounded.
I stared at the message, thumb frozen.
He hadn’t texted in months. After I cut contact, I figured it was over. Maybe it was. Maybe this wasn’t even him.
But it was the same room. Same tone. Same three words.
Kneel.
I set the phone down.
Don’t go.
That should’ve been the end of it. I should’ve blocked the number. I should’ve curled into bed and let the night pass.
Instead… I stood.
And walked to my closet.
The hood was still there. Buried in the back of a drawer I swore I’d never open again.
I ran my fingers over the soft fabric, breathing in deeply. It still smelled faintly of leather and something darker. Something that made my knees go weak.
No. Not now. Not with this bruise. Not with Drake’s voice still echoing in my head.
And yet… my body ached for it.
Not to control.
To let go.
Even just for one night.
My fingers brushed the lace lingerie still tucked inside the drawer, and before I could stop myself, I was packing it.
Not for him.
For me.
The Velvet Crown hadn’t changed.
Gold lighting. Velvet walls. A front desk clerk who didn’t ask questions.
Midnight came fast.
The elevator dinged. I stepped in.
My pulse roared in my ears.
I wasn’t here for answers. I wasn’t here to confirm anything.
I was here to breathe.
The eighth-floor doors opened.
I exhaled for the first time in hours.
Room 806 stood exactly as I remembered. I stepped in. The door closed behind me.
Silence.
The penthouse was warm, dimly lit, everything exactly as it had been months ago.
I stood in place, staring.
My chest rose and fell fast. I could barely catch my breath. Not from fear. Not even from the bruise on my skin.
Arousal.
Thick. Dangerous. Thrilling.
He would be here soon.
I reached into my bag. Changed quickly.
Lace. Hood. Skin exposed.
Heart racing.
I walked to the center of the room and knelt.
Back straight. Hands on thighs. Head bowed.
Waiting.
Every second stretched like a thread ready to snap.
The door behind me clicked.
Footsteps.
Measured. Calm
. Heavy.
A familiar presence swept in.
I didn’t turn.
I didn’t breathe.
Then…
His voice. Low. Dark. Close.
“Good girl.”
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