Claire's body trembled, her senses overwhelmed as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her. She had never felt anything like this—never lost herself so completely, never given up control in a way that made her feel so.... free.
Morgan had pushed her past every boundary she had unknowingly built, making her body sing with pleasure again and again. The restraints that once felt foreign now felt like an extension of herself. The blindfold Morgan had slipped over her eyes had heightened everything—the teasing glide of feathers against her skin, the sharp thrill of a flogger trailing down her spine, the deep vibrations of a wand pressed against her most sensitive spot until she couldn't hold back anymore.
Claire gasped, her body finally sagging against the restraints as the last orgasm left her breathless. She felt weightless, floating somewhere between bliss and exhaustion.
Morgan, ever attentive, was there immediately. She carefully loosened the silk ropes from Claire's wrists, kissing the delicate skin before massaging her hands to restore circulation. Claire barely had the strength to stand, her legs wobbly, but Morgan caught her before she could collapse.
"Shhh, I've got you," Morgan murmured, her voice softer now, gentler.
She scooped Claire into her arms as if she weighed nothing, carrying her over to a plush, velvet-covered couch in the corner of the room. As she settled Claire down, Morgan disappeared for a moment, returning with a warm, fluffy blanket, which she draped over Claire's exposed skin.
Claire blinked up at her, her mind still fuzzy, her body humming from the aftershocks of pleasure. "W-what now?" she asked, her voice hoarse.
Morgan knelt beside her, brushing damp strands of hair away from Claire's face. "Now, we take care of you."
Claire frowned slightly. "Take care of me?"
Morgan smiled, reaching for a nearby bottle of water and pressing it to Claire's lips. "Aftercare, sweetheart. An intense session like that can take a toll on your body and mind. It's important to bring you back down gently."
Claire took a slow sip, the cool liquid soothing her dry throat. "I didn't realize…"
Morgan chuckled softly. "Most people don't. BDSM isn't just about control or pain—it's about trust. And after putting you through something so intense, I need to make sure you feel safe, comforted."
Claire's heart clenched at that. No one had ever cared for her like this before, not even James. She had always been the one tending to others, making sure her husband was happy, ensuring she fit into whatever mold was expected of her. But Morgan… she was different.
Morgan pulled Claire against her, letting her rest her head against her shoulder. She ran soothing fingers down Claire's arm, the touch grounding and affectionate. "How do you feel?"
Claire let out a contented sigh. "Tired. Sore. But… good. Really good."
Morgan pressed a kiss to her temple. "Good girl."
Claire shivered at the praise, but this time, it wasn't from nervousness—it was from something deeper, something that felt like belonging.
Morgan continued to hold her, rubbing gentle circles into her back, whispering soft reassurances until Claire's body fully relaxed against hers. For the first time in a long time, Claire wasn't thinking about James, about betrayal, about the life she had left behind.
For the first time, she was just Claire—and she had never felt more alive.
Claire stirred slightly, her body still heavy with exhaustion as she lay nestled against Morgan's warmth. The rhythmic strokes of Morgan's fingers tracing idle patterns along her back were soothing, grounding her in the afterglow of everything that had just happened.
She had never felt anything so intense before—never given up control so completely, only to find herself feeling freer than ever.
But now, the haze was beginning to clear, and reality was creeping back in.
"I should probably… I don't know, go somewhere," Claire murmured, her voice thick with lingering pleasure. "I can't go home, not after…"
Morgan tilted Claire's chin up, forcing her to meet her gaze. Those emerald eyes held something Claire couldn't quite place—something between amusement and something… deeper.
"You're not going back to him," Morgan stated firmly. "And you're certainly not going to some random hotel like a woman scorned in some cliché romance novel."
Claire blinked. "Then… where am I going?"
Morgan smirked and reached for her phone. Within seconds, she was speaking in that smooth, authoritative voice that made Claire's stomach flutter.
"Vincent, have one of my penthouse suites prepared. Yes, the one overlooking the park." A pause. "She'll need fresh clothes—something comfortable, but elegant. And have a chef bring something light to eat." Another pause. "Yes, make sure the wine is properly chilled this time."
Claire sat up slightly, pulling the blanket around herself. "Wait—you're just giving me a penthouse?"
Morgan ended the call and arched a brow. "I own several. Might as well put them to good use."
Claire stared at her, processing that. "That's… generous."
Morgan leaned in, brushing a kiss against Claire's jaw. "I take care of what's mine, Claire."
Claire shivered. What's mine. The words sent a rush of something dark and thrilling through her veins.
Before she could say anything else, Morgan was already helping her up, slipping a silk robe around her shoulders. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you settled."
---
The car ride to the penthouse was smooth, the city lights blurring past in streaks of gold and red. Claire stared out the tinted window, her mind still reeling from the night's events.
Morgan had changed her.
Or maybe she was just discovering who she had always been.
When the car finally pulled up to an exclusive high-rise, the doorman greeted her by name—"Ms. Pierce has arranged everything for you" —before escorting her inside.
Claire wasn't sure what she had expected, but the moment she stepped into the suite, her breath caught in her throat.
This wasn't just wealth.
This was opulence.
Every detail screamed understated luxury—polished marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the glittering city skyline, and furniture that looked like it belonged in a high-end designer magazine.
But what truly caught her attention were the paintings.
Each wall was adorned with artwork, some she instantly recognized—original Monets, a Van Gogh that had once been rumored lost—but others were more modern, strikingly bold yet breathtakingly beautiful.
She came from money. Her childhood had been filled with extravagance, private schools, and summers in Europe. But this? This was something else entirely.
She turned in awe, taking it all in. "Morgan owns this?" she whispered to herself.
A soft chime broke her thoughts. She turned to see a sleek black tablet resting on the coffee table. A message flashed across the screen.
Morgan: Get some rest, sweetheart. Eat something. I'll see you soon.
Claire exhaled, sinking onto the plush sofa.
Her life had changed completely in just a matter of hours.
And something told her… this was only the beginning.