Page 73 of Ruthless Arrangement

“Fuck you,” she gasps, her voice hoarse, but there’s no real venom in it, only need.

I laugh, dark and cruel, as I thrust into her hard, filling her in one brutal stroke. Lea screams, her walls clenching so tight, it’s almost painful. The window rattles as I pin her against it, her breasts pressed to the glass, her legs spread wide. “That’s it,” I snarl, pulling out before slamming back in, as I set a punishing rhythm. “Take my cock, Lea. Take it like the little whore who thought she could outsmart me.”

Her moans are loud, desperate, her hands scrabbling against the glass for purchase. The city sprawls below, oblivious, while I fuck her senseless, each thrust driving her higher. “Look at Chicago,” I growl. “All those people, no idea their precious journalist is getting fucked like a slut five hundred feet above them.”

She tries to talk back, her voice shaky. “You’re not as smart as you think, Nico—fuck!” Her words cut off as I thrust harder, angling to hit that spot inside her that makes her see stars.

“Keep talking,” I say, my hand cracking against her already-red ass. “It just makes me want to fuck you harder.” I grip her hips, bruising, and pound into her, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. Her pussy is soaked, dripping down her thighs, and I can feel her building, her walls fluttering around me.

“You’re mine,” I growl, my lips against her ear. “This pussy, this ass, this fucking city…it’s all mine. Say it.”

“Yours,” she moans, her voice breaking as she surrenders, her body trembling. “I’m yours, Nico.”

“Damn right,” I say, my hand sliding between her legs to circle her clit, fast and rough. “Come for me, piccola. Come all over my cock while Chicago watches.”

She shatters, her scream echoing as her pussy clamps down, milking me. The intensity pushes me over the edge, and I come with a roar, spilling deep inside her, marking her as mine. We stay locked together, panting, the window cool against her skin, her body trembling in my arms.

When I pull out, she’s unsteady, her legs shaking, and I catch her before she collapses. Her ass is red, welted from the belt, her pussy glistening with our combined release. She’s a mess, and it’s fucking beautiful. But I’m not done with her yet, not until I’ve shown her every facet of my control, even the gentle side she doesn’t expect.

“Come on,” I murmur, lifting her into my arms. She’s too spent to protest, her head resting against my chest as I carry her to the penthouse’s luxurious bathroom. The room is a sanctuary of marble and gold, the bathtub big enough for two. I set her on the counter, her wince as her sore ass meets the cold surface making me smirk.

I fill the tub, adding oils that fill the air with lavender and eucalyptus. She watches me, her eyes wary but soft, like she’s trying to reconcile the man who just whipped her with the one preparing a bath. I strip off my suit, letting her see the scars, the muscles, the cock that’s still half-hard for her. Then I lift her again, settling us both in the warm water, her back against my chest.

“Relax,” I say, my voice softer now, but still commanding. I take a soft cloth, dipping it in the water and gently cleaning her, starting with her arms, her neck, then moving to her breasts. She sighs, leaning into me, and I feel her tension melt. “You took your punishment like a fucking queen,” I murmur, my lips brushing her temple. “But you’re still mine, Lea. Don’t forget it.”

I move the cloth between her legs, careful with her sensitive pussy, and she moans, her head falling back against my shoulder. My other hand massages her ass, soothing the welts, and she hisses, then relaxes, the pain blending with pleasure. “You’re sore,” I say, not an apology, just a fact. “But you loved it.”

She doesn’t deny it, her silence an admission. I wash her hair, my fingers working through the strands, and she’s pliant, trusting in a way that makes my chest tighten. This is the real danger, not her lies, but the way she makes me feel something beyond control.

When she’s clean, I lift her out, wrapping her in a heated towel and carrying her back to the bedroom. I lay her on the bed, applying a soothing cream to her welts, my touch gentle but firm. She watches me, her eyes searching, and I know she’s still playing her game, still plotting. But for now, she’s mine, marked and claimed, and I’ll be damned if I let her forget it.

“Sleep,” I say, pulling her against me. “Take a nap. We’ll go to dinner later.”

As she drifts off, her breathing evening out, I stare at the city beyond the window. Lea’s dangerous, a wildcard in my controlled world. But I’m The Diplomat, and I don’t lose. Not to her, not to anyone. She’ll learn her place, even if I have to fuck it into her, one punishment at a time.

* * *

Next day,I work from my home office while Lea explores the penthouse, gathering impressions for her article but undoubtedly searching for insights into my operation. I allow it, having already ensured that anything sensitive remains locked away.

When I emerge to prepare for my meeting, she’s curled on the sofa with her laptop, typing rapidly. She glances up as I adjust my cufflinks, a new suit for the afternoon’s business, this one midnight blue with a subtle sheen.

“You look dangerous,” she observes, setting her computer aside.

“That’s the point,” I reply, checking my reflection in the hallway mirror. “These particular associates respect power above all else. Appearance matters.”

She approaches, stopping just behind me. Our eyes meet in the mirror’s reflection. “When will you be back?”

“Late,” I answer, turning to face her. “Don’t wait up.”

Something flickers in her expression, disappointment, perhaps, that she won’t be accompanying me to gather more intelligence. “I’ll be here.”

I lean in, brushing my lips against hers in a kiss that’s gentle, at odds with the intensity of our earlier encounters. “Good.”

The elevator arrives with a soft chime. Before stepping inside, I glance back at her, standing in the foyer with an expression I can’t quite decipher. For a moment, brief but disconcerting, I’m genuinely curious about what she’s thinking behind that constructed exterior.

I dismiss the thought as the doors close between us. Curiosity about her motivations is useful only where it serves my purposes. Anything beyond that is a distraction I cannot afford.

* * *

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