Late
The suite was all hush and city glow. Lena had kicked off her heels by the door and left a clean trail behind her. Jacket on the chair back, portfolio squared on the desk, phone facedown, a glass of water beading on the nightstand. She'd scrubbed the day from her face; the liner was gone, the lipstick a memory. Her hair, once a sleek line, was clipped up loosely, a few dark strands falling at her neck. The black dress lay folded on the ottoman. She wore a slate camisole and matching briefs that clung to her curves.
She tried reading. Pacing. Breathing in fours. None of it settled the ache he'd curated and left burning low in her belly.
The knock came once. Precise.
Julian stepped inside as if the room had been waiting for him. No coat. Suit trousers. White shirt, sleeves rolled once; cufflinks loose in his palm before he pocketed them. His gaze skimmed the room, then found her. Bare face, hair falling in soft waves, breath quick under silk.
"Color," he said, closing the door with a quiet click.
"Green." The word surprised her with how certain it sounded.
"Good." He lifted something from his inner pocket: a narrow black band, matte leather, elegant. Not ostentation. Purpose.
He stepped close. The room narrowed to his height, his hands, the clean starch of his shirt. "If this goes on," he said, "you wear it because you choose to. Not because I can make you.
Her chin lifted. "I choose it."
He buckled the collar, leather settling warm and unyielding against her pulse. His fingertips lingered, grazing her throat in a way that steadied and claimed at once.
"Ask."
Her lips parted on a shudder. "Please… please let me come."
The corner of his mouth curved, dark, dangerous. "Earn it."
Her thighs trembled. She tried to hold still, but the ache betrayed her, a pulse deep and relentless. Words tumbled out, fractured and wanting. "I'll do anything, just… please…"
Julian's hand slid back to her throat, not squeezing, only resting, the weight of it enough to stop her breath for half a beat. His eyes locked on hers, unblinking.
"You'll come," he said softly, "when I make you. Not before."
Terms Laid Bare
He guided her to the bed, sat, and caught her wrists. With deliberate care, he tied them in front of her with his discarded tie. Silk pulled snug, knot resting at the heels of her palms.
He lifted her bound wrists to her chest, pressing them there so she could feel the weight of her own restraint.
"You don't move unless I move you."
Her green eyes darkened and flicked to his, "I don't move unless you move me."
He say and drew her across his lap. The camisole rode up; cool air met her skin. Then his palm came down on her thigh, testing, not punishing yet. "Count to five," he said. "Out loud."
Her throat tightened. "One."
His hand cracked across her ass, firm enough to sting through silk. She jerked, wrists tightening against the knot.
"Two." Another landed, sharper. Heat bloomed.
"Three." Her voice wavered, and his palm soothed along the same path only to strike again.
"Four." She gasped, wrists pressing harder to her sternum. The restraint forced her to feel every strike with nowhere to hide.
"Five." It left her trembling, thighs quivering open against his leg.
"Good girl."
Denial
He dragged her wrists higher, pinning them just above her breasts while his other hand slid lower. His fingers traced the waistband of her briefs, then lower still, not giving her what she wanted but close enough that every nerve ignited.
She tried to arch, but the silk tie held her own hands against her chest, a cruel reminder of obedience.
"Count," he murmured. "In fours."
She tried, voice shaky. He rewarded her steadiness with slow, precise strokes that grazed just shy of release. She lost the numbers on a gasp.
"Please," she begged.
Julian's eyes didn't soften, "Not yet."
Her bound wrists strained against silk, her chest rising fast, nipples peaked under the thin fabric of her camisole. His restraint wasn't just physical, it was deliberate, exact, holding her body hostage to the count.
Release
Finally, he shifted, fingers finding her clit with merciless accuracy. Her whole body jolted, back bowing as if struck, wrists wrenching against the knot until the silk cut deep into her skin. He held her pinned, unyielding, his eyes locked to her face as each shuddering breath betrayed how close she was.
"Now," he whispered, quiet, but absolute.
Her climax tore through her, a wave that seized every muscle, her cry swallowed against her bound hands. But he didn't let her ride it out freely. His touch stayed on her, steady, dragging the peak higher.
Pleasure twisted into something unbearable, too much and still not enough. Tremors shook her until she collapsed, wrists falling limp against her chest, the tie biting snug into her skin.
Only then did he ease the knot loose, rubbing circulation gently back into her hands. He kissed each palm with what could be mistaken as softness, ca. The collar at her throat said she wasn't free.
"Water," he said. He lifted the glass; she drank, still panting.
"Color now?"
Her voice cracked. "Green..and raw."
His thumb brushed her temple once, a rare mercy.
Aftermath
She should have been floating. Instead, Ethan's face intruded, unsteady and uninvited.
Julian caught the shift instantly. "You thought of him."
Her eyes closed. "While you were untying me."
"I know." Not accusation. Not comfort. Just fact.
Her chest tightened. "It doesn't erase this."
"It doesn't." His gaze held hers. "You chose. You'll choose again."
He rose, fetched a cool cloth, pressed it to her wrists, to the hollow of her throat. He left the collar buckled.
"Tomorrow," he said, "you eat, you drink water. And you don't answer him without me."
She nodded, raw. "Yes, Sir."
Instead of walking to the door, he crossed back to the bed, tugged the quilt aside, and pulled her in against him. Her cheek rested over the steady rise and fall of his chest. His arm settled heavy across her back, more protective than restraint.
"If you drift," he murmured into her hair, "you text me one word."
Her lashes fluttered. "What word?"
"Anchor."
She whispered it back, the sound soft against his skin. Sleep claimed her before she realized he hadn't let go.