Clara
He didn't let me fall. As my legs gave out from the force of the climax, Julian's strong arms caught me, hauling me back up until my feet barely touched the floor.
He turned me around in his arms, his face flushed and his eyes dark with a hunger that hadn't been satisfied—only provoked.
"You think one time clears a debt like yours?" he rasped, his hands sliding up to cup my face. His thumbs smeared the tears on my cheeks.
"Julian, I can't… I'm shaking," I whispered, my voice trembling.
"Then don't stand," he growled.
He lifted me effortlessly, my legs locking around his waist by instinct. He carried me away from the window and toward the massive mahogany desk in the center of the room. He cleared it with one sweep of his arm, sending expensive pens and crystal paperweights crashing to the floor.
He sat me down on the edge of the cool wood and stepped between my thighs.
"Look at me," he commanded.
I looked. He was stripping off his blazer and tossing it aside, his white dress shirt straining against his chest.
He looked like a god of greed and power. He grabbed my knees, pulling me to the very edge of the desk so that I was completely open to him.
"You were so brave when you broke into my safe," he murmured, his hand sliding up my inner thigh, his touch sparking a fresh trail of fire. "Where is that bravery now, Clara?"
Before I could answer, he leaned down and buried his face between my legs. I let out a sharp, broken cry, my fingers digging into the edge of the desk. His tongue was relentless, rhythmic, and demanding. He wasn't being gentle; he was tasting his victory.
"Please!" I arched my back, my head falling back as the tension coiled in my belly all over again. It was too much, too fast. My body felt like it was made of live wires.
He looked up at me, his mouth glistening, his eyes burning. "You want it? Tell me what you want."
"I want you," I sobbed, the truth ripping out of me. "Julian, please, I want you back inside me."
A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. He didn't wait. He grabbed my hips and drove into me with a single, massive thrust that knocked the breath from my lungs. It was deeper than before, harder.
"This is what happens to thieves," he hissed, his pace turning into a frantic, driving blur. "They get caught. They get used. They get ruined."
The desk creaked under our weight, the rhythm of his body hitting mine echoing through the silent penthouse. Every strike made me gasp his name. I felt like I was being branded, every inch of my skin belonging to the man who was supposed to be my enemy.
He reached out, grabbing my hair and pulling my head back for a kiss that tasted of bourbon and me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting to disappear into the heat.
"Climax for me again," he barked against my lips. "Show me how much you love your punishment."
The pressure peaked, an explosion of heat that made my entire body go rigid. I screamed into his mouth as I shattered for the second time.
Julian let out a guttural, animalistic sound, his grip on my waist tightening until it bruised as he emptied himself into me, his head dropping to my shoulder as he shook with the force of his release.
The only sound left was the rain against the glass and our wrecked, uneven breathing.
"You're not going anywhere, Clara," he whispered into my skin, his voice possessive and low. "Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Never."
*
The gray light of a rainy Manhattan morning filtered through the windows, casting a cold glow over the penthouse. I woke up with my face pressed against Julian's silk sheets, my body feeling heavy, sore, and completely marked.
Every time I moved, I felt the ghost of his hands on my skin. I tried to sit up, but a sharp ache between my thighs made me gasp. I looked down and saw the faint bruises on my hips—fingerprints left behind by a man who didn't know how to take things gently.
The bed beside me was empty, and the sheets were cold.
"Julian?" I whispered.
"He's gone to a meeting."
I bolted upright, clutching the duvet to my chest. A woman stood by the door, dressed in a sharp, professional suit. She held a silver tray and a stack of shopping bags.
"I'm Julian's personal assistant," she said, her face expressionless. "He left instructions. You are to bathe, dress in the clothes provided, and wait for his return."
"Wait? I'm not waiting," I said, my heart starting to race. "The debt is paid. He got what he wanted. I'm leaving."
The assistant didn't move. "The flash drive is inside that box. You can take it. But the doors to this penthouse are locked from the outside. Mr. Vane has decided that your brother's debt requires a... long-term payment plan."
I scrambled out of bed, ignoring the pain, and ran to the massive oak doors. I pulled, kicked, and pounded, but they didn't budge. I was trapped thirty floors above the world.
I walked back to the bed and opened the velvet box. The flash drive was there, but beneath it was a heavy gold anklet. I picked it up, and my blood turned to ice when I saw the engraving on the inside:
Property of Vane.
The phone on the nightstand rang. I picked it up with shaking hands.
"Did you find your gift, Clara?" Julian's voice was a low, dark purr on the other end. He sounded calm, as if he hadn't spent the night tearing the soul out of me.
"Let me go, Julian," I hissed. "You have the drive. You had me. It's over."
"It's only over when I say it is," he replied, and I could almost hear his predatory smirk. "I've cleared your brother's name. I've paid off his killers. In exchange, I bought you. All of you. From the hair on your head to the way you moan when I touch you."
"I'll scream. I'll tell the police," I threatened.
"Go ahead," he chuckled. "But remember, Clara... you broke into my safe. You're the criminal here. I'm just the man keeping you off the streets. Now, put on the dress I bought you. I'm coming home for lunch, and I'm very, very hungry."
The line went dead. I looked at the gold anklet, then at the locked door. I was no longer a thief. I was a bird in a gilded cage, and the man who held the key was coming back to finish what he started.