Page 75 of The Library

Almost.

I sit up, groaning as the pounding in my head intensifies. “God, my entire body hurts,” I mutter, reaching for the water.

Sebastian hands it to me without a word, his fingers brushing mine in a way that feels so sweet, so intimate. The kind of touch that makes me feel like I mean something more to him, likeI’m more than just his to control. But I know better. He has his reasons for being so sweet right now, and they have nothing to do with genuine tenderness. He’s hiding something—something he did to me last night that goes far beyond the fucking.

I swallow the pain reliever, taking a deep breath before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. My body aches, the soreness between my thighs a reminder of how rough he was, how much I wanted him. How much I still want him, despite everything.

“Take it easy,” he murmurs, watching me with those piercing eyes, but there’s a smirk on his lips. Like he knows something I don’t.

I stand, the sheets slipping off me, leaving me completely exposed. His gaze lingers, and I catch the way his muscles tense under his tattooed skin, the way his eyes darken with that same hunger from last night. I bite my lip, turning away from him, pretending like I don’t notice the heat in his stare.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” I say, my voice hoarse, from getting my throat fucked last night, as I make my way toward the bathroom. But before I close the door, I can’t resist looking back at him. He’s sprawled out on the bed now, leaning back against the headboard, wearing nothing but sweatpants that hang dangerously low on his hips. His hard, muscular body is on full display, covered in tattoos that only add to the dangerous edge that I can’t help but be drawn to.

He looks… perfect. So effortlessly sexy and powerful. I feel a strange warmth inside, a happiness that I don’t fully understand. Despite the ache in my body and the memories of last night’s intensity, I feel… safe. Happy, even.

I shut the bathroom door behind me, leaning against it for a moment. The room is quiet except for the sound of my own breathing. But as I push away from the door, I feel a sharp pain on my pussy. I wince, rubbing my hand over it. It’s sore, muchsorer than it should be. He slapped it hard last night while he was fucking me. My first thought is that maybe he slapped it harder than I remember, but the pain is too sharp, too specific.

I move to the mirror, my heart suddenly racing with a sense of unease. I turn to face the mirror, rubbing my hand over it, and that’s when I see it.

His name. Branded into my skin. On my fucking pussy! It’s across the entire top of it, low enough that it’s only seen if I’m not wearing underwear, and right above where the split starts. Are you fucking serious? He BRANDED me.

A scream escapes my throat, loud and piercing, before I can stop myself. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I whirl around, my heart pounding in my chest, and yank open the bathroom door.

“Sebastian!” I yell, my voice trembling with a mix of fury and disbelief.

He’s already standing there, leaning casually against the doorway like he’s been expecting this. And the smirk on his face—the pride, the smug satisfaction—makes my blood boil. “Yes, Lilith? I’m right here, you don’t need to yell.” He says, as if this is a fucking game. Maybe to him it is.

“You fucking branded me?!” I shout, punching his chest, my hands shaking as I point to my pussy, where his name is now permanently marked into my skin.

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look the least bit apologetic. In fact, he looks downright pleased with himself. Fucking amused.

“I told you I would,” he says, his voice calm and controlled, like this was the most natural thing in the world. “After your little bullshit games last night, you needed to be reminded who you belong to.”

My body trembles with anger, but also with something else. Something darker. Something that turns me on more than I care to admit. I’m furious, and yet… I’m also wet. Soaked, actually, atthe thought that he marked me. That he claimed me in a way no one else ever could.

“You… you branded me,” I say again, but this time, my voice is weaker, more breathless. My body is betraying me, reacting to him even as I try to cling to my anger.

“And that’s not all I did,” he says, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. He moves in behind me, his hand grazing my naked hip, his breath hot against my ear. “After I tied you up, fucked your mouth and pussy, and then fucked your mouth again so you could taste yourself… I did brand you. But I also put a tracking device in you.” He moves his lips from my ear to the back of my neck, gently moving my hair out of the way while he kisses the spot. I know that’s the spot because it fucking hurts when he touches it.

I freeze, my heart skipping a beat. “You what?”

His lips brush my ear again, sending shivers down my spine. “Now, no matter where you go, I’ll always know where you are. If you want to play games, Lilith, let’s do just that. You can run, baby, but I will always find you.”

The words send a jolt of fear and arousal through me, twisting together in a way that makes my pulse race. He’s not just claiming me physically—he’s controlling me. Completely. And the terrifying part is how much I want it. How much I crave this dark, possessive side of him.

Before I can say anything, he presses a quick kiss to my forehead. “Enjoy your shower,” he says, his tone almost mocking. “And scrub carefully on that beautiful pussy.” He slaps my ass cheek, the sting making me gasp, before he walks out of the bathroom, leaving me standing there, trembling.

I hear his phone ring from the bedroom. He answers it before walking out of the room, his voice short and clipped, but I know he’s aware I’m listening. Every word out of his mouth is calculated, every move designed to keep me on edge, to keep mewondering. He’s in control of everything, and it drives me insane that I want to let him be.

Standing there, before stepping in the shower, still processing everything that happened. My body is sore, still tender from the way he took me last night, but I can’t stop the rush of warmth that spreads through me at the thought. His mark on my skin, his name forever seared into me—it’s all so intense, so overwhelming, but at the same time, it feels right. Like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

I walk into the bedroom and grab my phone, needing a distraction from the flood of emotions threatening to drown me. A small smile creeps onto my face as an idea pops into my head. I open up Facebook, thinking it’ll be funny to look him up.Sebastian Ashford. The thought of him even having a Facebook seems ridiculous, but curiosity gets the better of me. I quickly type his name into the search bar, half-expecting nothing to come up.

But there he is. His profile is neat, professional-almost too polished, like it’s a carefully constructed version of him.

The exterior, the part he shows the world.

Business updates, networking, some pictures that look perfectly normal. It’s so different from the real him, the man who has this dark, consuming fire that no one else seems to see.

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