Page 78 of The Masquerade: Room 2

“I haven’t decided yet.” My attempt at playing hard to get is rather redundant, considering I came to his building.

He reaches out, grabs my hand, and tugs me into the elevator before pressing me up against the mirrored walls, his lips crashing down on mine. His hands slide up into my hair, holding me in place as his tongue licks the seam of my lips, begging entrance I freely give. He smells of fresh laundry and a subtle scent of cologne. He tastes of coffee, and I melt against the hard planes of his body.

“Morning, little one,” he says as he twists the key for the penthouse.

“Morning, Daddy.”

He presses his growing erection against my thigh. “Fuck, I love it when you call me that.”

“Daddy.” As the doors ping open, Pierce breaks our kiss and tosses me over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift, spanking my ass as we enter his apartment.

When he sets me down, I take in the palatial surroundings. It’s everything I would expect. Minimal, ordered, and serving a purpose. There are no dirty dishes in the sink or signs that he regularly inhabits this space.

“Are you ready to apologize, little one?” He catches me off guard.

It’s a good question, the answer I’m unsure of.

“Can’t you just punish me, and we can move on?”

“No. You’ll be punished but not before you acknowledge how disrespectful you were.”

“I choked! I wasn’t ready. It makes sense that you would give me preferential treatment.”

He wrings his hands through his hair, pacing in front of me. “Jesus, woman, why are you so damn defensive? I would never put a patient in jeopardy. It’s fucking insulting.”

“I had to know.”

He steps toward me, his imposing frame looming over me as I back up against the wall. “Is it so hard to believe I did it because you show more promise than any other resident?”

“I…” He braces his hands on either side of me, his lips mere inches from mine.

“Own how good you are, Freya. You can become an amazing surgeon but not as my little one.”

My heart is hammering in my chest, and panic is setting in. “You don’t want me anymore?” Ugh. I hate how much I want him.

“Of course I do. You’re mine. But, when you set foot in the operating room, you can’t be submissive. Not to me or anyone else. I need you to be certain that you’re in there because you have the skill to save a life. There’s no room for second-guessing. If I see you question yourself with a scalpel in your hand, I’ll have you removed from the OR. Understood?”

“Yes.” It’s a breathy whisper. I can’t take my eyes off his lips and the way his tongue darts out to wet them.

“Good. Now, you may apologize to me for questioning my judgment.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Take off your clothes.”

“But I have to get to work.”

“Are you really questioning me right now? Take. Off. Your. Clothes. I want you naked and bent over my kitchen island so I can administer your punishment.” A thrill courses through me, craving the pain.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. I’ll be back in a moment. I expect to see your ass ready and waiting for me when I get back.” He presses a gentle kiss to my lips before leaving me bereft. I watch as he strides out of sight with such a confident gait. He’s sexy as hell, and he knows it.

I make my way over to the stunning granite island, running my hand over the cold, hard surface. The penthouse has floor-to-ceiling windows with a stunning view of the city. Kicking off my heels, I grab the hem of my dress and pull it over my head before folding it neatly and setting it on the countertop. Doing the same with my underwear, I stand naked and vulnerable. My breathing is labored as I lean over the granite, my nipples pebbling against the cool, unforgiving island. I keep my legs together, and I can already feel myself getting wet with anticipation.

“Aren’t you a sight to behold, little one? Arms out in front of you.”

His command is like velvet, caressing every inch of my body. I do as he asks, my stomach doing somersaults just knowing his eyes are on me.

---