Chapter 216
Sophia's POV
I stood in the middle of Lucas's office, my arms wrapped around myself like that might somehow hold me together.
Fifteen minutes. I'd been waiting here for fifteen goddamn minutes, staring at that massive mahogany desk, the leather chairs, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan.
Trying to figure out how the fuck I was going to explain what happened in that boardroom.
My hands were shaking. I pressed them against my thighs, smoothing down the navy blue pencil skirt I'd pulled on this morning in his car.
With Lucas's mood swings lately—one second almost human, the next a fucking iceberg—I was pretty sure I was about to get my ass handed to me. Because someone had touched his pet. And Lucas didn't share his toys.
The door slammed open so hard I jumped.
Lucas stood in the doorway, his tie loosened, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle ticking. His eyes found mine across the office and something dark and dangerous flickered in them.
Before I could even open my mouth, he was across the room. His hand clamped around my wrist and he yanked me toward the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the street below.
He spun me around and shoved me against the glass so hard my palms slapped against it. The city spread out below us, twenty-three stories down. People like ants on the sidewalk. Cars streaming past.
His body pressed against my back, pinning me there. One hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head to the side. His breath was hot against my exposed neck.
"You just love teasing men, don't you?" His voice was low and dangerous, vibrating through me. "What's the matter, Sophia? I don't fuck you enough every night? You need more attention?"
"Morrison was harassing me—" I started, but his other hand clamped down on my hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise through the fabric of my skirt.
"And that HR bitch pushed me into his lap," I finished in a rush. "I didn't—"
"I don't give a fuck what happened." His hand left my hair and moved to the zipper at the back of my skirt. "You were in another man's lap. That's all I need to know."
"Lucas, wait—"
The zipper rasped down. He shoved the navy blue pencil skirt down my hips in one brutal motion, the tight fabric catching briefly before sliding past my thighs, taking my black lace underwear with it. The skirt pooled around my ankles, trapping my feet.
Cold air hit my exposed skin. My ass, my pussy—everything bare and vulnerable against the window while the city stretched out below us.
"Lucas—"
"Shut up." His hand pressed between my shoulder blades, forcing my chest against the glass. The cold surface made my nipples harden instantly through my white blouse. "You need a fucking lesson about what happens when other men touch what's mine."
I heard his belt buckle clink. The leather sliding through the loops with a whisper that made my stomach drop.
"Lucas, what are you—"
The belt cracked across my ass without warning. Sharp. Stinging. The sound echoed in the office like a gunshot.
I yelped, my body jerking forward against the glass.
"That's one," he said calmly, like he was counting off items on a grocery list. "For letting Morrison touch you."
"I didn't let him—"
The belt came down again, harder this time. Right across the curve of my ass where it met my thighs. The leather bit into my skin and I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out.
"Two. For not fighting hard enough to get away."
"That's not fair—"
Another strike. This one lower, catching the sensitive spot just below my ass. Tears pricked at my eyes.
"Three. For making me look like I can't control my own secretary."
"Fuck you!" I tried to push away from the glass but he pressed his hand harder between my shoulder blades, keeping me pinned.
The belt whistled through the air and landed with a crack that made me scream. My ass was on fire, each strike layering pain on top of pain until I couldn't tell where one ended and the next began.
"Four. For talking back."
"Lucas—please—"
"Please what?" Another strike. "Please stop? Please harder?" His voice was mocking. Cruel. "Your pussy's dripping down your thighs, Sophia. I can see it from here. You love this shit."
I wanted to deny it. Wanted to tell him he was wrong.
The belt came down one more time, the hardest yet, and I sobbed against the glass.
"Five. For being mine and forgetting it."
The belt clattered to the floor. I heard the rasp of his zipper, and then his cock was there, hot and hard, pressing against my abused flesh.
"I didn't do anything wrong," I said, hating how my voice shook. "Morrison grabbed me. That woman pushed me. I tried to get away—"
"And you think that matters?" He lined himself up, the head of his cock sliding through my wetness. "You think I care about the details when the result is you in another man's fucking lap?"
He reached between my legs, his fingers sliding through my folds without warning. I bit back a gasp as he found me already wet—soaked, actually, from the belt, from the fear, from four years of conditioning my body to respond to his cruelty.
"Look at that," he murmured, almost conversational as he circled my clit with his thumb. "Your mouth says no, but your pussy's already dripping for me."
Fuck you," I spat, but my hips pushed back against his hand involuntarily.
He laughed—low and dark—and removed his fingers. "That's the plan, baby."
He thrust inside in one brutal stroke that made me cry out. No prep. No warning. Just his cock splitting me open, filling me completely as my body struggled to adjust to the sudden intrusion. My ass burned where the belt had marked me, the pain mixing with the stretch of him inside me until I couldn't separate pleasure from punishment.
"Fuck—" My forehead hit the glass as he bottomed out, his groan vibrating against my back.
"Too much?" He asked as he leaned in.