"That depends," I reply, surprising myself with my boldness. "Are you prepared what you’re getting yourself into?"
His smile is dangerous. "Try me."
The legal paperwork takes three hours to draft and review. I read every clause carefully, making modifications, demanding clarifications. My independent lawyer—a fierce woman named Rebecca Torres who specializes in exactly these kinds of complex domestic arrangements—negotiates terms that would have seemed impossible months ago.
When we finally sign the documents, I feel like I'm taking my first real breath in months.
"So," Gage says, setting aside his pen, "how does freedom feel?"
"Beautiful," I answer honestly.
The moment the lawyer's footsteps fade down the hallway, the air between us crackles with electricity. We stare at each other across the desk, the signed papers scattered between us like a bridge we've just crossed.
"We're done pretending," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Completely done," he agrees, his eyes dark with hunger.
I move first, sweeping the documents aside as I lean across the desk toward him. He meets me halfway, his mouth crashing against mine with desperate intensity. The kiss is hungry, claiming, months of tension finally unleashed.
His hands tangle in my hair as he pulls me further across the desk, papers crinkling beneath me. I can taste the victory on his lips, the satisfaction of finally having me exactly where he wants me—not just physically present, but choosing to be here.
"I can't wait until tonight," he growls against my mouth, his control finally snapping. "I need you now."
He circles the desk with predatory grace, and before I can react, he's lifting me, setting me on the edge of the polished surface. His hands work frantically at my blouse, buttons scattering as he strips it away.
"Gage," I gasp, but any protest dies when his mouth finds my throat, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.
"Say you want this," he demands, hands cupping my breasts through my bra. "Tell me you're not just agreeing to our arrangement—tell me you want me."
"I want you," I breathe, arching into his touch. "God help me, I want you so much it terrifies me."
The confession unleashes something primal in him. He tears my bra away, his mouth immediately closing over one sensitive peak while his hands push my skirt up around my waist.
"Fucking perfect," he groans against my skin. "Every inch of you."
His fingers find the edge of my panties, and instead of removing them gently, he tears them away completely. The sound of ripping lace makes me gasp, heat flooding through me at his desperate need.
"I'll buy you more," he says roughly, echoing words from months ago. But this time, there's reverence beneath the dominance.
He drops to his knees between my spread thighs, and the sight of this powerful man kneeling before me sends liquid fire through my veins. His hands grip my hips, holding me steady as he looks up at me with eyes dark as midnight.
"Mine," he says simply, then his tongue is on me, broad strokes that have me crying out within seconds.
I fall back against the desk, papers rustling beneath me as he works me with devastating skill. His tongue circles my clit with precision before delving deeper, fucking me with long strokes that make my thighs tremble.
"God, Gage," I moan, my hands fisting in his hair. "Don't stop."
"Never," he growls against my slick flesh. "I'll never stop making you feel this way."
He slides two fingers inside me, curling them to hit that spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. His mouth continues its assault on my clit, sucking and licking until I'm writhing beneath him.
"Come for me," he commands, his voice vibrating against my core. "Let me taste your pleasure, Penelope."
The orgasm crashes through me with violent intensity, my back arching off the desk as I cry his name. He doesn't stop, working me through every pulse, every aftershock, until I'm boneless and gasping.
Before I can recover, he's standing, turning me roughly until I'm bent over the desk, my hands braced against the polished wood. I hear the rasp of his zipper, feel the heat of him pressing against my entrance.
"Is this what you wanted?" he asks, voice strained with barely controlled need. "To drive me so fucking crazy I can't think straight?"
