Obey me, Dean. (Erotica)

Aria's POV:

    I was late. Not fashionably. Not dramatically. Just enough that my heart was pounding when I knocked.

    Wolfe didn't answer.

    Of course he didn't. That would've been too easy.

    These past days, I had been thinking too much about him. That night, I had been thinking of him touching me the way I wanted, to fuck me where I wanted.

    I tried the handle. Unlocked. Inside, his office was empty-except for the envelope waiting on his desk with my name written in black calligraphy.

    Another envelope.

    Another game.

    I didn't hesitate. Not this time. I opened it with trembling fingers.

    I wanted something more intriguing than last time, something that would make him touch me, and I wanted to feel him all over my body.

    "Go to Room 207. Now. Do not knock. Do not speak. Obey."

    That was it. One line. No signature.

    I knew where Room 207 was; my body already moved before my brain could argue. My pulse was a drumbeat in my ears as I climbed the marble steps of the east building.

    Room 207 was tucked at the end of a silent hallway. The door looked ordinary, wooden and dark. I stared at it for a moment before I twisted the knob.

    It was dim inside.

    Curtains drawn. One long table at the center. No chairs. And him-standing at the head of it, hands clasped behind his back.

    Wolfe.

    "Close the door," he said without turning.

    I obeyed.

    "Lock it."

    The click of the lock felt louder than it should've.

    "Strip."

    My heart stopped.

    "What?" 

    Did he just want me naked?

    He turned slowly. His eyes dragged down my body from my head; he paused slowly when he reached my breasts. I felt happy with the way he was looking at me, but I didn't show it.

    I used my hands to hide my nipples.

    He put on a smirk at my actions.

    "Aria..," he said, licking his lips. His gaze lingered on my  pussy, and I couldn't help but wish it was his tongue instead.

    "I said, strip. You're not here as a student today. You're here as my subject."

    "Subject," I echoed. My voice barely a whisper.

    "I told you this would escalate. This is your first test."

    I looked at the door, then back at him.

    Then I obeyed.

    One button at a time. One layer after another. Until I stood before him in nothing but skin and fear.

    He said nothing for a moment. Just looked at me. Not like a man staring at a girl, but like a master assessing his canvas.

    "Come here," he said lustfully.

    I walked.

    He didn't touch me-yet my body ached for it, my mind craving the heat of his hands. 

  This was a man old enough to be my father but still, I didn't care. 

    He just circled. His voice a low hum of control.

    "Shame doesn't serve you, Aria. Fear will, for now. But eventually, I'll take that too."

    He reached into a drawer and pulled out a leather collar.

    "This is not a symbol of ownership," he said. "It's a symbol of choice. Yours."

    I stared at it.

    "Put it on," he said.

    My fingers shook, but I did. The leather was cool against my throat. The click of the clasp sounded final.

    "Good girl."

    The praise hit harder than the crop.

    I didn't expect it to feel like victory.

    He stepped behind me. "Hands flat on the table."

    I obeyed.

    Then the first strike. Open palm, right on my ass. I gasped but stayed in place.

    I expected to feel pain, but instead -I weirdly enjoyed it. The sound. The wetness of his palm on my ass. I couldn't bear it. I wanted more.

    Another. Harder.

    Then two fingers between my thighs, just grazing, sliding down to my pussy. He paused for a moment.

    Just enough to make me gasp again.

    "I told you," he murmured. "You don't get to hide from me anymore."

    He leaned in, lips brushing my ear.

    "Next time, you'll beg."

    He stepped away, leaving me trembling.

    "Dress. You're dismissed."

    Just like that?

    I couldn't believe my ears-what kind of psycho was this? Dress? Or did I hear him wrong?

    The lesson was over?

    I left Room 207 with the collar still around my throat.

    And I didn't take it off.

    I kept the collar on all night.

    Not out of defiance. Not out of fear.

    But because taking it off would've meant admitting what I was becoming.

    I barely slept. My body buzzed like a live wire. Every nerve replayed the sound of his voice, the sting of his palm, the heat of his breath on my neck when he said, "Next time, you'll beg."

    Just the thought alone sent heat pooling between my thighs. I was wet again, aching with no one to blame but my own hunger.

    I wasn't sure whether to scream or come.

    By morning, Jules was eyeing me like I'd grown horns.

    "You okay?" she asked, sipping her black coffee.

    "Fine."

    "You've got that glow. The I've-been-dominated-by-a-billionaire glow."

    I didn't respond.

    She set her cup down. "Just promise me one thing."

    "What?"

    "If he ever crosses a line-really crosses it-you burn him to the ground."

    I met her gaze. "That's the problem, Jules. I don't think I know where the line is anymore."

    ---

    He had asked me to meet him again in the same room, but this time Room 207 was darker. Lit only by a single red bulb that made the shadows crawl.

    He was waiting, of course.

    "Strip," he said, before the door had even closed.

    I obeyed. No hesitation.

    "Good girl."

    The praise warmed me. Addictive, like a drug.

    "Climb onto the table."

    I did, the cold wood biting into my skin.

    "Lie back. Arms above your head."

    He bound my wrists with soft leather cuffs, anchoring them to the table's corners.

    Then he stepped back to admire it.

    "You're learning," he murmured. "But now we test how far you'll go."

    He reached into a small black case and pulled out a slim, steel wand.

    My breath caught.

    "I won't hurt you," he said. "Unless you want me to."

    "If you obey me."

    The wand buzzed to life in his hand. Low. Threatening.

    "Eyes on me."

    I obeyed.

    He slid it down my stomach, making me shiver.

    "You don't get to come," he said.

    I whimpered.

    "Not until I say."

    He pressed the tip between my thighs, and I nearly came undone. Pleasure surged, thick and sharp.

    But every time I got close, he pulled back.

    Teasing. Tormenting.

    Until I was crying.

    "Please," I gasped. "Sebastian-please."

    He froze.

    "You've never said my name before."

    I met his gaze, tears in my eyes. "Then punish me for it."

    His control shattered.

    He undid the cuffs and pulled me upright, dragging me into his lap as he sat back in the leather chair.

    "Ride me," he said, unzipping his pants.

    I didn't hesitate.

    He was thick, hard, already leaking. I sank down slowly, moaning as he filled me.

    "Eyes on me," he repeated.

    I moved slowly at first, then faster as his hands gripped my hips, guiding, forcing, bruising.

    "You feel that?" he growled. "That's mine."

    "Yes," I gasped.

    He thrust up harder, punishing, claiming.

    "I said no coming until I say."

    "Then say it!" I cried, unraveling.

    He grabbed my chin. "Come."

    I was shattered.

    My body collapsed into his, shaking, raw, alive.

    He held me there for a moment.

    Then whispered, "We don't need a safe word. Not anymore."