Ch. 58 – Behind Closed Doors.

Out in the living room, Marcus rested his head against the high leather back of the couch, holding his phone tightly against his ear. On the other end of the line, Vespera’s tone had shifted dramatically. The dismissive, airy casualness she had maintained all morning had completely vanished, replaced by an intense, razor-sharp focus that bordered on interrogation. She insisted that Marcus recount every single micro-detail of the moment Ariadne walked through the front door—how she had carried herself, the precise words she used, the look on Rhys’s face, and the exact manner in which they retreated to the private office at the back of the house.

Marcus found the sudden, ravenous curiosity a bit odd. Vespera usually treated the mundane details of Rhys’s life with a detached, superior amusement. Yet he laid it all out for her anyway, utterly transparent and completely oblivious to the tactical chess match taking place over his head. On the receiver, Vespera let out a low, purring laugh, sounding entirely too happy with the intelligence she was receiving. The thrill of knowing Rhys was locked away in a room with an unstable, dangerous element from his past was a piece of information she intended to savor.

Inside the locked office, the air was thick with the heavy, stifling heat of dark desire and physical exertion. Ariadne remained on her knees, her hands resting limply against Rhys’s thighs, her mouth diligently working to clean every last drop from his skin. Her throat swallowed rhythmically, her head bobbing in a slow, hypnotic trance, her dark eyes rolled so far back into her head that only the whites showed. She was completely consumed by the act of submission.

Rhys looked down at her with a face carved from granite. There was no warmth in his eyes, no affection, no lingering tender romance—only a cold, unyielding wall of stone. Reaching down, he buried his fingers into her dark hair and forcefully pulled his body back out of her grasp, severing the connection.

Ariadne let out a soft, breathless gasp as she was pulled away, her lips parting as she blinked up at him, her expression dazed and disoriented like someone forcibly pulled from a deep dream.

Before she could process the pause, Rhys reached down, gripped her by the arms with an absolute, unyielding strength, and hoisted her up off her knees. He spun her around violently, bending her forward over the edge of the polished mahogany desk. With a sharp, practiced motion, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her fitted denim pants and yanked them down past her knees, exposing her completely to the cool, quiet air of the office.

A loud, involuntary squeal of raw, electric excitement ripped from Ariadne’s throat as her body slammed against the hard wood of the desk. She arched her back, her fingers clawing at the leather blotter as she took in the helpless, exposed posture she was trapped in.

Rhys stood behind her, his chest heaving, taking in the full sight of her expanse. A dark, ruthless impulse took root in his mind. He leaned down, placing his hand firmly against the small of her back, and spat directly onto her swollen, wet groin.

Ariadne squirmed furiously against the desk, a shuddering gasp escaping her lips at the crude, total disrespect of the gesture. She twisted her neck around, looking back over her shoulder with a sheepish, flushed, and thoroughly undone smile. Her eyes glinted with a twisted, desperate adoration.

“Please...” she whimpered softly, her voice cracking with pure, unadulterated need. “Break me... husband.”

The word hit Rhys like a physical blow to the chest.

A second, violent surge of agony tore through his sternum as his broken kinetic power revved up in pure, unbridled rage. His heart hammered against his ribs like a sledgehammer. She wasn’t allowed to use that word. That title belonged to one woman, and one woman only—a sacred boundary that Ariadne was carelessly trampling on for her own twisted thrill.

Infuriated, Rhys lined himself up and thrust deep inside her with a brutal, unforgiving force, embedding himself fully in one fluid, violent stroke.

Ariadne’s whole frame spasmed wildly, her mouth opening in a silent, breathless scream as her hands gripped the edges of the desk so hard her knuckles turned stark white. Without giving her a second to adjust, Rhys started bucking into her like crazy, his hips striking her with a relentless, punishing rhythm that echoed sharply off the hard surfaces of the room. The sheer impact sent vibrations through the floorboards, the heavy mahogany desk sliding a fraction of an inch across the carpet.

Ariadne lost all composure, letting out loud, unrestrained moans that threatened to carry straight through the door and into the hallway.

Rhys’s hand flashed forward like a strike, his thick fingers clamping over her jaw and shoving two fingers deep into her mouth, forcibly gagging her to smother the noise. “Shut up,” he hissed dangerously against her ear.

Far from being deterred, Ariadne absolutely loved it. She groaned behind his hand, her eyes rolling back in sheer pleasure as her wet tongue wrapped around his fingers, licking profusely, sucking greedily against his skin while he continued to hammer into her from behind without a trace of mercy. Rhys felt the heat rising in his gut, the primal, unholy sensation of total dominance taking over his body, drowning out his conscience, his guilt, and his sanity.

Out in the living room, Marcus was leaning against the wall, wrapping up his brief account of the afternoon. He chuckled lightly into the receiver. “So yeah, that’s pretty much it. She showed up talking about the catering business, and then the two of them went back into the office to talk shop.”

On the other end of the line, Vespera let out a small, disappointed click of her tongue. The story had ended too quickly; the details were entirely too vague. She wanted to know more. She wanted the granular, uncomfortable truths of what was transpiring behind that closed door.

Feigning an official, highly reasonable interest, Vespera dropped into her smooth, persuasive tone. “Well, Marcus... as Rhys’s official primary investor and business partner in this catering enterprise, I really feel like I should be kept in the loop regarding these ‘logistical’ discussions. Don’t you think?”

“Uh... I guess so?” Marcus replied, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

“Why don’t you do me a quick favor, sweetie?” Vespera purred, her voice dripping with sweet, intoxicating coercion. “Just walk back down the hall and check in on them. See what they’re actually discussing. For the business’s sake, of course.”

Marcus hesitated, a sudden knot of discomfort forming in his gut. His natural instincts as a loyal, respectful friend screamed at him to leave Rhys’s private affairs alone. “I don’t know, Vespera... Rhys seemed pretty adamant about keeping it private. I really want to respect his space.”

Vespera let out a light, mocking giggle, teasing him playfully over the line. “Oh, come on, big hero. Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little administrative check-in? Just go take a peek. For me?”

Trapped under her thumb and eager to please the woman he was foolishly courting, Marcus sighed, giving in to the soft pressure. “Fine... alright. I’ll go check.”

Inside the office, Rhys had completely lost his grip on reality. He was operating on pure, unadulterated instinct, his body moving in a frantic, unyielding rhythm as he pushed Ariadne to her absolute limits.

With a loud, guttural cry that was choked back against the wooden desk, Ariadne finished hard. Her inner walls contracted around him with a tight, convulsing grip, her body shuddering so violently that her legs nearly buckled beneath her. Fluids spilled freely, dripping down her inner thighs onto the rug.