"Kitten," he grunted deep inside me as he released, his body shuddering on top of mine. I tried to hold my breath, my chest rising and falling rapidly. The sex was too good—overwhelming, powerful. My legs trembled, completely numb from how many times he made me come.
I watched him step out of bed, stark naked, not even trying to cover himself. He moved with a kind of careless confidence, like he knew how beautiful he looked. My eyes wandered to the space between his legs, remembering how he made me scream so loud, my throat still burned.
He disappeared into the bathroom and was gone for at least thirty minutes. When he returned, he looked freshly showered, his hair damp and slicked back. He moved around the room naked, not caring I was still lying there, bare and spent. I grabbed my phone, pretending to be busy. There was no way I was getting out of this bed before noon—no chance in hell.
Eventually, he leaned over and kissed my forehead. He had changed into a sharp suit that made him look like a fantasy. So clean. So polished. So out of my league.
"Are you really going to leave me alone in this big house?" I asked with a pout.
He chuckled, adjusting his watch. "I have an important meeting. It won't take long. I promise I'll come back to you as soon as I can." He leaned in closer. "Don't go anywhere. Wait for me, kitten."
And just like that, he was gone.
I tried to get up, but my legs were still aching. Walking to the bathroom was like learning to walk again. Peeing? A whole challenge. My pussy was sore, raw from how relentlessly he'd taken me. I filled the tub and slid in, letting the warm water soothe my body. I soaked for nearly an hour, replaying every moment from last night.
When I finally emerged, I wrapped myself in his plush white robe. The bed was perfectly made, and there was an outfit laid out for me—simple, yet elegant. A soft beige dress, my exact size, with matching sandals and delicate gold accessories. Someone had clearly taken care of this while I slept, but Denzel and I had been alone last night. Hadn't we?
I applied lotion from the collection of expensive cosmetics in the bathroom, inhaling their soft, luxurious scent. Everything about this place felt like a dream I didn't belong in.
Hunger eventually pulled me out of the room. I wandered through the mansion, taking in the high ceilings, the marble floors, the endless hallways of wealth and silence. When I found the kitchen, it was empty—but the dining room had a hot breakfast waiting for me. A full English spread: eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, fruit, and fresh juice.
"Good morning, ma'am."
I jumped slightly. A woman in her late thirties stood by the doorway, dressed in a simple black uniform. She looked at me politely, respectfully—even though I must've looked like a mess of sex and confusion.
"The dress looks good on you," she said. "I prepared breakfast. I'm done with the chores for today, so I'll be leaving soon."
"Uh… you can eat with me, if you'd like?"
She shook her head with a polite smile. "I'm sorry, but I can't. There's an emergency at home I need to attend to."
"Okay. Thank you… for everything."
She nodded, almost too quickly, and left in a hurry. I had a feeling she was lying, but I didn't push. I sat down and ate every bite of the meal. It was delicious—better than anything I'd ever cooked for myself. Afterward, I cleared the table, not wanting to seem ungrateful.
The house was quiet again. Too quiet.
I wandered into the living room and curled up on the plush couch, staring out the massive glass windows. The view was breathtaking. Hills. Trees. Silence. Still, something in my chest felt heavy.
This wasn't just a one-night stand anymore.
Hours passed. I must've dozed off because when I opened my eyes, the sun was setting—and Denzel stood in the doorway, watching me.
His jacket was off, his tie loosened, and his sleeves rolled up. That dark, unreadable expression was back on his face.
"You waited," he said, stepping inside.
"I did."
He walked over to me slowly, eyes locked on mine. "Good girl."
"Is this how it's going to be?" I asked, standing up, barefoot and unsure. "You come and go, and I just wait around?"
His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. "We need to talk about the rules."
My heart thumped. "Rules?"
He cupped my chin, tilting my face up. "Yes. If this is going to work—if we are going to work—you need to understand how this arrangement goes."
I swallowed hard. "Okay."
" No sleeping with anyone else. I don't share."
I nodded.
"You belong to me, kitten. That means when I want you—anywhere, anytime—you say yes. You trust me to take care of your needs."
His hand slid down my neck, between the valley of my breasts.
"And " he whispered, "you do not fall in love with me. This isn't a fairy tale, Lowell. I'm not your prince. I'm your pleasure. Your escape. Your paycheck."
He kissed me—slow, deep, possessive.
"But if i ever…" he growled against my lips. "If I ever find out someone touched what's mine, I'll destroy them."
I shivered. Part fear, part desire.
"Do you understand the rules?"
"Yes," I whispered.
He pushed me gently onto the couch and climbed over me, his mouth claiming mine like a storm. His hands were rough but purposeful, his touch possessive. He undressed me slowly, methodically, like he was unwrapping something precious—and then he made me forget everything I thought I knew about pleasure.