The limousine ride back from the party was quieter than I expected. The city lights blurred past, golden and electric, and the faint hum of the engine felt almost intimate in the dark. My legs still tingled from the night's tension, my chest still fluttered from the whispered words, the stolen touches, the teasing dominance that had left me trembling. I rested my hand on my lap, aware that his was still near mine, brushing against the edge of my fingers in a deliberate, almost possessive rhythm.
He didn't speak immediately. Asher's gaze was fixed on the passing streets, but I could feel it on me, burning, measuring, approving. I swallowed, remembering how he had guided me through the crowd, how his hands had pressed gently but firmly against my back and hips, how every whispered word-"Babygirl, that's perfect"-had made my breath hitch and my pulse spike.
"Relax," he said finally, his voice low, smooth, teasing. "You handled yourself exquisitely tonight. I don't think I've seen anyone command attention the way you did." His words were praise, yes, but layered with something darker, something that made my heart flutter and my stomach coil with heat.
"I... I tried," I murmured, unsure if I could even put the night into words. "I didn't... I wasn't sure I could."
He turned slightly, his eyes catching mine in the dim light of the limo. That look-calm, dominant, almost predatory-made my breath catch. "Tried?" he said, teasingly incredulous. "You were magnificent. Every glance, every smile, every subtle movement. You had them all watching, guessing, wondering. And yet," he leaned closer, voice dropping to a near whisper, "you were mine. Everyone knew. Did you feel it? The way they all noticed?"
Heat rushed through me, and I bit my lip. I had felt it. The way his arm curved around my waist, the tilt of his head toward mine, the way his hand lingered near mine just long enough to claim me publicly without a word-it had been intoxicating, overwhelming, impossible to ignore.
"I... yes," I admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I felt it."
He smiled, slow and deliberate, almost smug, and the movement made a shiver run through me. "Good," he said, brushing a fingertip lightly over my hand, then moving it up my arm in a teasing sweep. "I liked watching you, seeing how you handled it. That mix of elegance and subtle fire... it's remarkable." His eyes darkened, a flash of dominance surfacing. "You have no idea how much that turns me on."
My breath hitched at the words, and I felt heat pool in places I shouldn't even acknowledge yet. "Asher..." I began, but his lips brushed a whisper against my ear, and I stopped mid-sentence.
"Shh," he murmured, voice low, dangerous, teasing. "Not now. We'll see later. Right now... you'll let me savor the thought of everyone watching, of you responding, poised and perfect, knowing I'm the only one who truly owns you."
The rest of the ride was charged, every touch, every movement between us loaded with anticipation. My body responded to the subtle dominance in his presence, to the possessive, teasing energy that had marked every step of the evening. Even in silence, I felt him guiding, claiming, observing, and every second made me ache for more.
Back at the penthouse, the moment the doors closed behind us, he shifted, pressing closer. His lips hovered near my temple, his voice low and husky. "You've learned well, princess," he said, words deliberate, teasing, possessive. "Tonight wasn't just about surviving their eyes-it was about showing me, and everyone else, exactly who you are. And I couldn't be more proud."
I shivered under the weight of his praise, my chest tightening, heat spreading in ways that left me dizzy and breathless. "I... I didn't want to mess up," I whispered, words barely audible.
"You didn't," he countered immediately, voice soft yet dominant. "You played your part beautifully. But now..." He paused, letting the word hang, charged, electrifying. "...you'll feel the rest of my attention, private this time."
His hands roamed with teasing precision, grazing my waist, my hips, lingering near my back. I leaned against him instinctively, heat and anticipation spiraling through me. The teasing continued, every movement calculated, every whisper meant to heighten, to dominate, to make me ache in ways that were both forbidden and thrilling.
Even under the rules of our contract, even in the structured dance of appearances, his possessive dominance was undeniable. Each word-Babygirl, princess, mine-made my body respond, every syllable a spark igniting the fire between us. And though the night had been public, this moment was intimate, private, and infinitely more potent.
As I gasped softly at the way he guided me, controlled me, and praised me all at once, I realized that following his rules had taught me more than restraint-it had taught me the delicious thrill of surrender, of teasing, of the intoxicating power he wielded simply by being near me. And even as he leaned closer, whispering promises and commands, I knew that this was only the beginning of the fire we were stoking-together, dangerously, and beautifully.