The city looked different at night. From the penthouse, Manhattan didn't just sparkle, it pulsed, alive, each light a temptation, each shadow a secret. And here I was, standing in the lion's den with Liam Knight's eyes burning into me.
I'd told myself not to come. I'd told myself to stay in my apartment, to drink cheap wine, to ignore the buzz of my phone. But when his message came, Come to my apartment, come upstairs.
I tried to ignore the message, but my body had betrayed me. I started getting dress to go to the penthouse. The ride there was so fast and my heart was pondering.
The elevator ride had been silent, smooth, and far too fast. Every second brought me closer to him, to the danger, to the heat that had been eating me alive since our kiss in his office.
Now, here I was.
He leaned against the window, jacket gone, sleeves rolled, tie discarded. He looked less like a CEO and more like a predator at rest, dangerous even in stillness. The city lights painted him in fire and shadow, and my chest tightened with every breath.
"You came," he said, voice low, smug.
"I shouldn't have," I whispered, though even I didn't believe it.
"No," he agreed, pushing off the glass, stalking toward me. "But you wanted to."
My pulse skittered. I took a step back, but there was nowhere to go. The penthouse swallowed me whole black marble beneath my heels, glass and steel around me, and him closing the distance until his heat pressed against my skin.
His hand caught my chin, tilting my face up. "Say it."
"I wanted to." The confession slipped out, raw, desperate.
His mouth crushed mine before I could take it back. The kiss wasn't gentle. It was a storm, consuming, devouring. My lips parted, and his tongue slid inside, claiming me, tasting me like he had every right. My knees nearly buckled, but his arm wrapped around my waist, holding me against the hard, unyielding line of his body.
I moaned into his mouth, and the sound only spurred him on. His other hand tangled in my hair, tugging just enough to make my pulse race. He kissed me until I was dizzy, until every thought bled away except the need for more.
When he pulled back, I gasped, lips swollen, heart racing.
"Better," he murmured against my mouth. "Now stop fighting me."
His hands roamed lower, sliding down my spine, cupping my ass. He lifted me effortlessly, and I gasped, wrapping my legs around his waist. He carried me across the marble floor like I weighed nothing, lips never leaving mine until my back hit the wall.
The cold glass pressed against my skin through my blouse, a sharp contrast to his heat. His hips ground into me, his erection thick, hard, demanding. I felt it, God, I felt all of him and my thighs clenched tighter around him.
"Liam" I moaned, half warning, half plea.
His teeth grazed my throat, making me shiver. "Say it again."
"Liam." This time it was a whimper, broken, needy.
He growled low in his chest, biting down just enough to leave his mark. "Good girl."
His hands made quick work of my blouse, buttons snapping under his impatience. He didn't care about the expensive fabric, about anything but touching me. My bra barely survived his hunger, lace pulled aside, his mouth closing over my nipple. I cried out, fingers clutching his hair, back arching against the glass as heat pooled low in my belly.
His tongue swirled, teasing, relentless. Every flick made my core tighten, every suck drew a moan I couldn't swallow down. He switched to the other, equally merciless, and my body writhed against him, desperate for more.
When his mouth left me, I whimpered, only for his lips to trail lower. He dropped to his knees before me, unzipping my skirt, tugging it down along with my panties in one rough motion. The cold air hit my bare skin, and I gasped, thighs pressing together instinctively.
"Open for me." His voice was a command, dark and dangerous.
I hesitated, trembling.
His eyes flicked up, searing into mine. "Alicia."
The way he said my name, possessive, unyielding broke me. My thighs parted, and his satisfied smirk nearly undid me before his mouth replaced it.
The first stroke of his tongue had me crying out, head slamming back against the glass. His hands gripped my thighs, spreading me wider, holding me down as his mouth worked me. He licked, sucked, teased with brutal precision, and I shattered against him.
My moans filled the penthouse, shameless, desperate. My hips bucked, but his grip held me in place. His tongue circled, flicked, thrust, dragging me higher and higher until I was teetering on the edge of madness.
When I finally broke, it was violent, overwhelming. Pleasure tore through me, shaking me, making me cry his name like a prayer. He didn't stop. He devoured me, lapping up every drop, pulling me through every wave until I was nothing but trembling limbs and ragged gasps.
When he rose, his mouth glistened, his eyes dark with hunger. He kissed me hard, forcing me to taste myself on his lips. The intimacy, the filth of it, made my head spin.
"You taste like sin," he growled, grinding against me again. "And I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."
I barely had time to breathe before he carried me to his bed, tossing me onto the black silk sheets. His clothes were gone in seconds, discarded carelessly, revealing the body I'd only imagined until now, hard, sculpted, powerful. My breath caught, eyes drinking in every inch of him.
And then he was over me, pinning me down, pressing his length against my soaked entrance.
"Beg," he demanded.
"I...." My pride wavered, but his cock slid just enough to make me moan, and I broke. "Please, Liam. Please."
His smirk was wicked, satisfied. And then he thrust into me, deep, hard, filling me completely.
I screamed his name, nails raking down his back as he set a brutal rhythm. Every stroke hit deep, every thrust pushed me closer to the edge. He fucked me like he owned me, like I was his to take, his to ruin.
And God help me, I wanted it.
Our bodies collided, slick with sweat, moans mingling, the sound of flesh against flesh echoing in the vast penthouse. He kissed me between curses, biting my lips, sucking my tongue, never giving me a chance to breathe.
When I came again, it was with a cry that felt like surrender. My body clenched around him, milking him, dragging him deeper into my madness. He growled, thrusting harder, faster, until with a shudder he spilled inside me, claiming me in the most primal way.
We collapsed against the sheets, tangled, breathless. His arms caged me in, his lips pressed to my ear.
"You're mine, Alicia."
And even though I should have fought, even though I should have denied it, the truth slipped from my lips.
"Yes, i am yours."
Liam is a stallion, he didn't get tired one bit.
He carried me like a baby or should i say like an egg, that mustn't break to his bathroom, though i was tired and can barely open my eyes, but i saw how massive his bathroom was and other amenities.
The fancy bathroom is a luxurious oasis with modern facilities. Marble-like tiles and polished white marble floors create a sophisticated ambiance. A rain showerhead, freestanding tub, heated floor, double sink, and high-tech toilet. There are other modern amenities like... a smart mirror, bluetooth speakers, and ambient lighting. Luxurious marble countertops, plush towels, and fresh flowers. The bathroom offers a spa-like experience, perfect for relaxation and unwinding. With its sleek design and advanced features, this bathroom is a haven of luxury and tranquility, providing a serene escape from the stresses of everyday life. It's a true retreat.
Liam's Pov: The morning after
The city never slept, but Alicia Blake did.
I watched her through the sliver of my half-drawn curtains, the pale dawn spilling across her skin like stolen light. She lay tangled in the silk sheets, dark hair fanned against my pillows, her chest rising and falling in slow, uneven breaths. For once, she looked at peace. For once, she wasn't fighting me.
I should have left her in the guest suite. I should have sent her home the moment I was done breaking her resolve last night. Instead, she was in my bed, in my space, where no woman had been permitted before.
My jaw clenched. A mistake.
And yet, as I leaned against the cold glass of the penthouse window, Manhattan spread out below me like my empire, I couldn't bring myself to regret it.
The night replayed in fragments.
Her gasp when i threw her on my bed.
The way her body arched against mine when she thought she'd finally surrendered, then fought me again.
Her nails dragging lines down my back, not from hatred but from need she refused to voice.
Her lips, swollen from my kiss, whispering my name like a secret she wasn't ready to own.
I hadn't taken her, not fully. Not yet. Because this was never about release. It was about control. About watching her teeter on the edge between defiance and desire, dangling in the place where she wasn't sure if she wanted me to stop or push harder.
That was where I thrived.
I took her to my bathroom, to bath her up, like a baby.
I like how she coiled up her body to my chest. She can barely open her eyes.
When she open her eyes slightly, she was in awe with how massive my bathroom was. After bathing her, I brought her back to my bed and cover her up with my heat blanket. She fell asleep like a baby before i finishing bathing and blow drying her hair.
Alicia Blake wasn't like the others. I'd had women who threw themselves at me, women who knew exactly what they wanted from Liam Knight: money, status, pleasure. Disposable, predictable, forgettable.
But Alicia? She fought me with her eyes even when her body betrayed her. She trembled, but not from fear alone...no, it was the kind of trembling that came from wanting something she shouldn't.
She was mine. Whether she admitted it or not.
A soft stir from the bed pulled me from my thoughts. She shifted, blinking against the morning light. Her lashes fluttered, and then those hazel eyes met mine.
For a heartbeat, she looked disoriented, vulnerable, like a woman who had forgotten where she was. Then awareness sharpened her gaze, and the walls came back up.
"Morning," I said smoothly, my voice carrying across the room like command rather than greeting.
Her throat worked, dry, as she sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. "I…..I should go."
"Should you?" I tilted my head, watching her every move. "Or do you simply want to run before you understand what last night meant?"
Her lips parted, a retort on her tongue, but she swallowed it. She looked away, scanning the penthouse as if it could give her answers. Black marble floors, glass walls, and the faint smell of whiskey and leather. My world. Too sharp, too cold, too dangerous for someone like her.
But she was here.
And I wasn't letting her go.
"You crossed a line," she whispered finally.
I smirked. "No, Alicia. You stepped willingly into it."
Her breath hitched, and I moved closer, slow and deliberate. She tightened her grip on the sheet, knuckles white, but she didn't move back. Brave little thing. Always braver than she knew.
I stopped at the edge of the bed, towering over her, and let my fingers brush her chin, tilting her face up to mine.
"You think you're still free, don't you?" I murmured. "That you can walk out of here and forget what happened. But your body won't forget. Your mind won't forget. And neither will I."
Her pulse hammered against my touch, betraying her silence.
I leaned down, lips grazing her ear. "Last night was restraint, Alicia. Do you understand that? I didn't take you because I want you to remember every inch of waiting. Every second of denial. Next time, there won't be waiting."
She shivered, and for a fraction of a second, I saw it...the truth she was terrified to admit. She wanted that next time.
But she masked it quickly, pushing my hand away. "This is wrong," she said, voice tight. "You're my boss."
"Exactly," I replied, unbothered. "And that means you do as I say."
Her eyes flared, the spark of her defiance striking against the steel of my dominance. Perfect. That spark was what kept me coming back.
I straightened, adjusting the cuff of my shirt, already dressed for the day. "Shower and Get dressed. You're coming with me to the office."
Her brows furrowed. "Like this?"
I allowed a dark chuckle. "You'll have clothes waiting downstairs. I don't leave anything to chance."
She frowned, her stubborn pride bruised by my control, but she slid out of the bed anyway, clutching the sheet until she disappeared into the bathroom.
I exhaled slowly once the door shut, running a hand through my hair.
I hadn't lied...last night had been restraint. But it had been my breaking point too. I had wanted to lose myself in her, to claim her in a way that would leave no room for questions. Instead, I stopped, because this wasn't about desire anymore.
It was about possession.
Alicia Blake was more than an assistant now. She was the one woman who threatened the walls I'd built, and that made her dangerous.
Which meant I had only two options.
Destroy her.
Or own her completely.
And I already knew which path I would take.
The bathroom door creaked open, steam curling out into the room. She stepped back into view, hair damp, body hidden beneath one of my shirts that hung loose on her frame. Too intimate. Too tempting.
I swallowed hard, jaw tightening. My shirt on her looked like ownership.
And maybe that was the point.
She glanced at me, eyes uncertain. "Liam… what happens now?"
I closed the distance between us, brushing her damp hair back from her cheek. "Now, Alicia, you stop asking questions and start learning how deep this goes."
Her lips parted, but I silenced whatever protest she had with a kiss….hard, claiming, ruthless.
When I pulled back, I whispered against her mouth, "Your life isn't yours anymore. It's mine."
And as much as she wanted to deny it, her trembling breath told me she knew it was true.