Gabriella
The bedroom door closed behind us with a soft, expensive click that sounded louder than it should have.
I kicked off the heels the second we were inside. They skidded across the hardwood, one landing upside down like it was drunk. My feet throbbed. My head throbbed worse. The choker felt like it was tightening on its own.
Aiden didn't say anything at first. Just shrugged out of his jacket, tossed it over the armchair. Rolled his sleeves up to the elbows like he was getting ready to work. The ink on his forearms looked darker in the low lamp light—wolves snarling, claws dripping, words in old languages that probably meant death or loyalty or both.
He walked to the bar cart in the corner. Poured two fingers of something amber into a glass. Didn't offer me one.
I stayed by the door. Arms crossed. Still wearing the black dress that felt like armor and prison at the same time.
"You were good tonight," he said finally. Back to me. Voice calm. "Almost convincing."
"Almost?" The word came out sharper than I meant.
He turned. Leaned against the edge of the dresser. Took a slow sip. Watched me over the rim.
"Jax noticed the way your hand shook on my arm when he mentioned the run. Kade saw how long it took you to unclench your jaw after I kissed your temple for the cameras." He set the glass down. "They're watching closer than you think."
My stomach dropped another inch.
"They're your friends," I said. "Your pack. Why do you care what they see?"
"Because the bet isn't just about you submitting." He pushed off the dresser. Started walking toward me—slow, deliberate. "It's about how clean the job looks. How perfect. If they think I'm forcing it too hard, too fast, they'll say I cheated. If they think you're faking it, they'll say the same."
He stopped in front of me. Close enough I had to tip my head back.
"So tonight," he continued, "you were perfect. And that pisses me off."
I blinked. "What?"
He reached up. Fingers brushed the choker at my throat. Traced the silver links. Then hooked one finger under it and tugged—just enough to make me step forward into him.
"I wanted you to crack," he said quietly. "I wanted you to flinch when Jax spoke. I wanted your eyes to fill when the elders called you Luna. I wanted something real to leak through the mask so I could punish it later."
His thumb pressed against my pulse point. Felt it jump.
"But you didn't give me anything," he murmured. "You smiled. You touched me. You looked at me like I was everything. And now I have to reward you instead."
I swallowed. "I don't want your rewards."
"Liar." His other hand slid to my waist. Pulled me flush against him. The hard line of his body pressed into mine through the dress. "You're still wet from the dance floor. I felt it when I had my hand on your thigh."
Heat flooded my face. Shame. Anger. Worse—truth.
He leaned down. Lips brushing my ear.
"Take the dress off."
My hands moved before my brain could argue. Reached behind for the zipper. Dragged it down. The fabric parted. Slid off my shoulders. Pooled at my feet.
Black lace underneath. The set he'd chosen. Barely there.
He stepped back. Looked.
No smile this time. Just hunger. Raw.
"On the bed. On your knees."
I hesitated.
His eyes narrowed. "Don't make me ask twice tonight, Gabriella."
I walked to the bed. Climbed on. Knelt. Hands on my thighs. Head down.
He came up behind me. Didn't touch yet. Just stood there, letting me feel him—heat, presence, the faint rustle of his shirt as he unbuttoned it.
Then his hands were on my hips. Pulling me back until my ass pressed against his thighs.
"Hands behind your back."
I obeyed. Fingers laced at the small of my back.
He wrapped one big hand around both my wrists. Held them there. The other hand slid up my spine—slow—then fisted in my hair. Tugged my head back gently.
"Look at me in the mirror."
The full-length mirror across from the bed showed us both. Me—kneeling, back arched, throat exposed. Him—shirt open, eyes dark, mouth set in a hard line.
"See that?" he said. Voice low. Rough. "That's what the pack sees when they look at us. Perfect. Devoted. Mine."
His free hand moved between my legs. Found me. Slid inside slow. One finger. Then two.
I gasped.
"Shh," he murmured against my neck. "You did so good tonight. You get to come. But only while you watch yourself take it."
He worked me slow at first. Then faster. Deeper. Thumb circling where I needed it most.
My legs shook. Breath came in short, broken sounds.
"Tell me who you belong to."
"You," I whispered.
"Louder."
"You."
He curled his fingers. Hit that spot.
I cried out.
"Who owns this pussy?"
"You do."
He sped up. Relentless.
"Who's going to come for her alpha like a good little mate?"
I broke.
The orgasm hit hard—white behind my eyes, thighs trembling, wrists straining against his grip. I watched it all in the mirror—my mouth open, cheeks flushed, body shaking while he held me through it.
When it passed, he let go of my wrists. Let me collapse forward onto my elbows. Panting.
He leaned over me. Kissed the back of my neck—soft. Almost sweet.
"You earned that," he said quietly.
Then he stood. Walked to the bathroom. Turned on the shower like nothing had happened.
Left me there on the bed—dress in a heap, body still humming, mind spinning.
I stared at my reflection again.
The girl in the mirror looked wrecked.
But her eyes…
Her eyes looked dangerous.
Like maybe—just maybe—she was starting to learn how to play the game too.