Page 23 of His By Contract
Her social misstep would cost her, she knew. The elite’s whispers would echo through their circles tomorrow, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret standing her ground. Let him think he’d won with his silence, his careful control. Some part of her refused to be erased.
The elevator doors opened to the penthouse, and Georgia stepped into Adrian’s domain. The click of the lock behind them echoed through her chest like a gunshot.
Moonlight spilled across the floors, casting long shadows that stretched toward her like grasping fingers. The air thickened around her lungs, her body registering that she’d crossed into his realm. Everything gleamed with calculated perfection, from the obsidian coffee table to the leather chairs positioned just so. Not a cushion out of place, not a surface marked by human touch.
Her throat tightened. The walls seemed to close in, every pristine surface reflecting Adrian’s absolute control. She retreated, her shoulders drawn tight as the clinical perfection of the space squeezed the air from her lungs.
His presence stopped her cold. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, but his silence filled the space between them like smoke. Her muscles locked in place, caught in the gravity of his attention.
No rage burned in his eyes. No sharp words cut through the quiet. Just that steady, patient observation that stripped away her defenses one by one.
This wasn’t about her words at the gala, or the whispers that would spread through their social circles tomorrow. This was about her defiance. About the careful boundaries she’d pushed against, the illusion of independence she’d dared to claim.
His footsteps whispered across marble as he moved closer. Each footfall echoed through her bones, hammering home that within these walls of glass and steel, his authority flowed absolute. That every piece of freedom she’d grasped tonight had been nothing more than borrowed time.
Georgia’s heart thundered against her ribs, but she kept her chin high. Let him see the trembling in her hands. Let him sense the fear that crackled beneath her skin. She wouldn’t look away.
Adrian lowered himself onto one of the leather chairs, his movements smooth and unhurried. The fabric of his suit pulled taut across his shoulders as he settled back, one arm draped across the armrest. His posture spoke of ease, but Georgia recognized the steel beneath his casual demeanor. The air crackled with expectation.
The marble floor was unyielding beneath her heels, but her skin burned under his steady gaze. Time stretched between them like pulled taffy, each second an eternity of waiting.
When he leaned forward, it wasn’t a surprise. His hand circled her wrist, the touch light but inescapable. Her pulse fluttered beneath his fingers like a trapped bird.
Georgia’s muscles tensed, instinct urging her to pull away. But the resistance felt hollow, performative. Deep down,she’d known this moment was coming from the second she’d challenged him at the gala.
He guided her forward with that same careful control that defined everything he did. The world tilted as he positioned her across his lap, the leather chair leg cool against her palms where she braced herself.
The shift in dynamic hit her like a physical blow. Gone was any pretense of equality. Here, draped across his thighs, she couldn’t ignore the reality of their arrangement. His hand rested against her back, a weight that promised consequences.
Georgia held her breath, muscles tense with anticipation. Adrian’s other hand rested against her bottom, heavy and warm through the thin fabric of her dress. The silence stretched, each heartbeat an eternity.
Cool air kissed Georgia’s thighs as Adrian gathered the silk of her dress, sliding the fabric up with deliberate slowness. Her breath caught, trapped in her lungs as his fingers traced over the curve of her hip. The expensive material whispered against her skin, pooling around her waist in waves of emerald.
His touch wandered to the delicate lace of her underwear. Georgia’s fingers curled against the leather chair, her heart hammering so hard she was certain he could feel it through her ribcage. The elastic slid down, catching briefly on the swell of her bottom before continuing its descent.
The vulnerability crashed over her in waves. Here, in this sterile penthouse with its perfect angles and controlled shadows, she lay bare across Adrian’s lap. No more pretense. No more illusions of control.
Her panties settled around her thighs, the lace edge pressing into her skin. Adrian’s palm returned to rest against her exposed rear, heavy and warm. The contact sent sparks racing up her spine, leaving her trembling beneath his touch.
The first strike landed, sharp and precise. Her body jolted, more from surprise than pain. Heat bloomed across her skin, radiating outward like ripples in still water. A gasp caught in her throat, trapped behind clenched teeth.
Another strike followed, then another. Each one landed with calculated force, building a steady rhythm that spoke of absolute control. No rage fueled his movements, no emotion colored his touch. This was correction, pure and simple.
Her fingers curled against the leather, seeking purchase as the sensations washed over her. Between each strike, his hand lingered, a weight that anchored her to this moment, to this position, to him. The touch wasn’t gentle, but neither was it cruel. It simply was.
Heat built beneath her skin, each impact adding to the fire that spread across her flesh. Her breath came in short gasps, mind struggling to process the conflicting signals of pain and something else, something that made her chest tight and her thoughts scatter.
His other hand pressed against her back, holding her steady. The pressure spoke volumes. This wasn’t just about punishment or pain. This was about ownership, about control, about her place in his world. Each strike reinforced the message her defiance had challenged.
Georgia’s muscles tightened and released with each strike, waves of sensation rippling through her that she couldn’tprocess. She gripped the leather harder, knuckles white with tension. This wasn’t supposed to feel like this. She wasn’t supposed to react this way.
Heat pooled low in her belly, a warmth that had nothing to do with the sting spreading across her skin. With every strike, her breathing stuttered, caught in a rhythm she couldn’t control. The solid weight of his thighs beneath her, the firm pressure of his hand against her back—it all felt too intimate, too real.
She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting against the confusion that threatened to overwhelm her. Adrian had always been a contract, a necessary evil, a cage she’d willingly stepped into. She’d built walls around her heart, kept him firmly in the role of captor, of controlling force.
But now, draped across his lap, feeling the strength in his touch and the deliberate care in his movements, those walls cracked.
His hand connected again, and Georgia bit back a sound that wasn’t quite pain. Shame colored her cheeks as her body responded, betraying every carefully constructed defense she’d built. She couldn’t hide from the way her skin tingled under his touch, or how each strike sent sparks of something dangerous through her veins.
