Emma knew what kind of night this would be the moment she stepped through the door.
The room was dimly lit, warm, the scent of leather and musk lingering in the air like an unspoken promise. A single chair sat in the center, a throne of control, draped in deep shadows. And in it, him.
Gabriel.
He was already waiting, legs spread, one hand lazily resting on his thigh, the other curled around the length of a black leather leash. It connected to the thick collar around her throat, the same one he had fastened on her before she left the house. A reminder.
Her stomach clenched. The weight of his gaze alone sent heat spiraling through her belly, anticipation coiling tight beneath her skin.
He smirked, tapping two fingers against his knee. “Crawl.”
Emma dropped instantly, hands and knees hitting the cool hardwood floor. The movement was automatic, instinctual. Learned.
Gabriel didn’t move. He simply watched, the silence stretching between them as she slowly made her way forward, her thighs trembling with every shift. By the time she reached him, the air itself felt heavier. Thicker.
She knelt before him, eyes cast downward, heart hammering.
“You begged for this,” he murmured, voice smooth as dark velvet. “Didn’t you, pet?”
Emma’s breath hitched. She had. Desperately. Shamefully.
“Yes, Sir.”
A low chuckle. “Then show me how much you mean it.”
The leash jerked, pulling her closer until her forehead nearly touched the heat of his body. The scent of him filled her lungs, thick, heady, overwhelming. She whimpered, thighs clenching involuntarily.
“Look at you,” he mused, tracing a single finger down her cheek. “A perfect little thing, ready to be ruined.”
Her pulse pounded as he fisted her hair, tilting her head back further. “You understand what’s about to happen, don’t you?”
Emma swallowed, her throat tightening beneath the collar. “Yes, Sir.”
“Say it.”
Her face burned. “You’re going to piss on me, Sir.”
A wicked smirk. “That’s right. Because you don’t get to decide what’s filthy. I do.”
The first warm splash hit her chest, and her breath caught, shock, heat, humiliation coiling into something dark and desperate inside her. The scent of him, the unmistakable reality of what he was doing, filled her senses. He made no attempt to avoid her, no hesitation in claiming her completely. It dripped down her skin, between her breasts, across her stomach, soaking her thighs where she knelt.
Emma trembled, her body betraying her, slick arousal pooling beneath her. Gabriel let out a pleased hum, watching as she shivered under his ownership.
“You’re making such a fucking mess,” he muttered, dragging his fingers through the wetness staining her skin. He smeared it against her lips, pressing until she parted for him, tongue flicking out instinctively.
“That’s my girl,” he praised, gripping her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “So filthy. So fucking perfect.”
She whimpered, need clawing at her insides. “Please, Sir…”
He crouched before her, thumb swiping over her lower lip. “Please what? Say it.”
Her voice shook. “Please… use me again.”
His grin was slow, predatory. “That’s more like it. Now open that pretty mouth.”
And Emma obeyed, sinking into the depths of her own ruin, knowing she would never want to be clean again.
Thank you for stepping into my world. If this entry stirred something in you, show your love with a clap, leave a comment, and dive deeper into desire.
📖 Subscribe | 📚 Amazon Author Page | ☕ Buy Me a Coffee