Claire had spent the entire day in the penthouse, the events of the past few days replaying in her mind like a vivid dream. The betrayal, the heartbreak, the new, intoxicating world Morgan had introduced her to—it was almost too much to process.
She absentmindedly ran her fingers over the diamond necklace that now adorned her neck. Morgan had called it her collar. It was meant to show the world that she belonged to her and only her. The thought sent a strange thrill down Claire's spine.
She hadn't expected to fall so deeply, so quickly, into this world—into Morgan. But there was something undeniably magnetic about the woman. The way she took control, the way she made Claire feel things she never even imagined feeling before.
As night fell over the city, Claire poured herself a glass of wine, enjoying the quiet solitude of the penthouse. The city lights glowed outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a golden hue across the luxurious space. She had never lived in anything quite like this before.
It was peaceful.
Until—
*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.*
Claire froze, her fingers tightening around the stem of her glass.
Morgan wouldn't knock.
A sense of unease crept up her spine as she slowly made her way to the door. Maybe it was the concierge… or one of Morgan's staff.
She pulled the door open—
And her stomach dropped.
James.
He stood there, swaying slightly, his expensive suit rumpled, his tie loose, and the unmistakable stench of whiskey clinging to him. His eyes were bloodshot, his expression wild with something between rage and desperation.
Claire barely had time to react before he shoved past her, storming into the penthouse like he had every right to be there.
"James! What the hell are you doing here?" she gasped, spinning around to face him.
He ignored her question, his gaze sweeping across the opulent room with a sneer.
"So this is how you move on?" he scoffed, gesturing around dramatically. "Living in a goddamn palace, dripping in diamonds, while I'm out there getting torn apart in court?"
Claire's stomach churned. "You have no right to be here. You lost that the moment you cheated on me."
James let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, spare me the victim act, Claire," he spat. "You were so heartbroken, huh? But look at you now—shacked up with some rich bitch who's treating you like her personal pet." His gaze darkened as it landed on the necklace around her neck. "Jesus. You're really letting her own you?"
Claire lifted her chin, standing her ground. "Get. Out."
James's expression twisted into something ugly.
"I made you, Claire," he snarled, taking a step closer. "Everything you had was because of me. And now you're living better off than before? That's bullshit!"
His hands clenched into fists.
Claire's heart pounded.
He had never hit her before. But right now, there was something in his eyes—a raw, unhinged anger—that terrified her.
Then—
James *lunged.*
Before Claire could even react—
A strangled *grunt* filled the air as James's body was *yanked* backward with brutal force.
His arm twisted at an unnatural angle, a sharp *cry* escaping his lips as he dropped to his knees.
A low, dangerously calm voice purred behind him.
"You pathetic little shit."
Claire's breath hitched.
Morgan.
She stood behind James, her grip on his arm unyielding, her emerald eyes dark with barely restrained fury. The sharp cut of her white pantsuit made her look even more intimidating—a stark contrast to the absolute violence in her stance.
James thrashed, but Morgan didn't loosen her hold. Instead, she twisted his arm harder, making him let out a strangled groan of pain.
"Touch her," Morgan murmured, her voice smooth and deadly, "and I will end you."
James struggled. "Get your hands off me, you crazy bitch!"
Morgan merely smiled. It was a slow, predatory expression. "You really are dumber than I thought," she mused. "You signed the divorce papers. You lost. Claire is all mine now. And you?" She let out a soft chuckle. "You're nothing but a parasite leeching off others "
With that, she *shoved* him forward, sending him sprawling onto the marble floor.
James scrambled to his feet, his face red with humiliation and rage. "This isn't over," he spat, chest heaving.
Morgan arched a brow, her lips curling in amusement.
"Oh, darling." Her voice was silky, dripping with condescension. "It was over the moment you walked through that door." "Vincent, show Mr. Carter to the door" She said as her driver and personal guard Vincent grabbed the drunk man and shoved him out of the penthouse.
Silence.
Claire stood there, frozen. Her hands were trembling.
Morgan exhaled, rolling her shoulders back as if shaking off the encounter. Then, she turned to Claire, her expression softening.
"Are you okay?"
Claire swallowed hard, nodding—but the slight tremor in her breath gave her away.
Morgan sighed and stepped closer, gently cupping Claire's face with both hands. Her touch was warm, grounding.
"He won't bother you again," Morgan murmured, her voice firm with promise. "I'll make sure of it."
Claire let out a shaky exhale, leaning into Morgan's touch.
"Thank you."
Morgan's thumb traced along Claire's cheek, her gaze darkening with something unreadable.
"I told you, Claire," she whispered, her voice dipping into that commanding tone that made Claire's stomach flutter.
"You belong to me now."
Claire's body was still trembling, though she wasn't sure if it was from the adrenaline coursing through her veins after what had just happened—or the way Morgan looked standing there, so effortlessly powerful, so dangerously in control.
She didn't even think.
Didn't hesitate.
One moment, she was staring into those piercing emerald eyes.
The next—she lunged, crashing her lips against Morgan's with a desperation she had never felt before.
Morgan barely flinched. If anything, she let out a low hum of amusement, easily catching Claire's waist and pulling her closer.
"So eager," Morgan murmured against her lips, her voice dripping with approval.
Claire didn't care.
She needed this.
Needed her.
She pressed herself against Morgan, her fingers tangling in the soft fabric of her suit, trying to pull her closer, closer, closer.
Morgan let her have her moment of desperation—let her kiss, let her take.
But then—
Morgan took over.
With a sharp movement, she gripped Claire's chin, tilting her head back until their lips separated, forcing Claire to look at her.
Morgan's gaze was sharp, hungry.
"You're shaking," she noted, her thumb tracing the swell of Claire's bottom lip.
Claire swallowed, breathless. "I need you."
Morgan's lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. "Then let's get you exactly what you need."
With that, Morgan scooped Claire up effortlessly, making her gasp as she was carried through the penthouse. The bedroom was dimly lit, the soft glow of the city outside casting shadows across the silk sheets.
Morgan dropped Claire onto the mattress, standing at the edge of the bed, watching her.
Waiting...
Claire's chest heaved. "Please…"
Morgan's eyes gleamed. "Strip."
Claire shivered.
It was a command. Not a request. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the straps of her dress, pulling them down, letting the crimson fabric slide down her body like liquid heat. She sat there in nothing but the delicate lace lingerie Morgan had bought for her.
Morgan exhaled slowly, her gaze devouring every inch of her. "Good girl," she praised, her voice like velvet.
Claire's thighs clenched at the words.
Morgan reached into a drawer by the bedside, pulling out a long, elegant candle and a sleek silver vibrator.
Claire's breath hitched.
"Tonight," Morgan murmured, climbing onto the bed, settling over Claire's body, "we're going to try something new."
She ran her fingers down Claire's body, teasing, exploring.
And then—
The first drop of warm wax landed on Claire's stomach.
She gasped, her back arching, a sharp thrill rushing through her veins.
Morgan chuckled. "Good girl," she murmured again, pressing a kiss to Claire's neck before trailing more drops along her skin.
Heat.
Sensation.
And when Morgan finally pressed the vibrator between Claire's legs, teasing her with slow, agonizing movements—
Claire realized...
She had never felt more alive.