Page 15 of Blackwell Manor: A Lesson in Submission

Lillian’s Smirk

A soft chuckle made her turn, her body sluggish, tangled in sheets that still smelled of desire, sweat, and something darker.

Lillian was beside her, bare except for the silk sheet draped lazily over her waist, one arm propped behind her head, watching Isabella with a knowing smirk.

“Good morning, darling.”

Isabella swallowed, her throat dry, her lips still sore from the night before.

Lillian reached out, tracing a slow, teasing finger along Isabella’s bare shoulder, down her arm, over the curve of her waist.

“I must say,” Lillian mused, eyes dark with satisfaction, “you lasted longer than I expected.”

Isabella’s cheeks flamed.

Her entire body was on fire again, remembering.

Lillian’s lips against her skin.

Elias’s voice in her ear.

The way they had taken her, consumed her, made her theirs.

And she had let them.

She had begged for it.

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Elias’s Silence

A movement from across the room made Isabella turn.

Elias stood near the grand fireplace, already dressed in black slacks and a crisp white shirt, the top buttons left undone, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

He was calm, unreadable, composed—like a man who had taken his pleasure and was already moving on.

Except… Isabella knew better.

Because when he turned, his gaze found hers immediately, and something dark, something possessive flickered in his eyes.

She had thought the hunger in him had been satisfied last night.

She was wrong.

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"This Isn’t Over"

Elias moved toward the bed, slow, deliberate, stopping beside her.

Isabella sucked in a breath, suddenly hyper-aware of how bare she was, how exposed, how vulnerable.

Lillian’s fingers still traced absentminded circles on Isabella’s hip, smirking up at Elias like she knew something Isabella didn’t.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then, in that deep, controlled voice that made her pulse pound between her legs, he said:

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