POV: EVE
Monday morning came too soon.
Eve sat at her desk at Phoenix Talent Agency, trying to focus on the contract in front of her, but her mind kept drifting back to the weekend.
To the warehouse.
To Dimitri breaking a man without flinching.
To the eleven-inch dildo stretching her beyond her limits.
To the two inches of his cock he'd given her before pulling away.
She shifted in her chair, her body still tender, still aching, still desperately wanting what he refused to give her.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Dimitri.
DIMITRI: How's my good girl today?
Despite everything, despite the violence and the denial and the absolute insanity of her situation, she smiled.
EVE: Sore. Frustrated. Thinking about you.
DIMITRI: Good. I want you thinking about me. Wanting me. Aching for me. Marco's outside. You're safe.
EVE: I know.
DIMITRI: I'll pick you up at six. Wear the red dress I left in your closet. And the black lace underneath. Nothing else.
EVE: Yes, sir.
