Page 11 of His By Contract

“Page twelve clearly states otherwise.” Adrian’s voice remained level, almost bored. His calm felt more threatening than anger would have been. “The contract you signed gives me full authority to ensure compliance through physical correction.”

“I was desperate. My mother would have died.” Georgia’s voice cracked. The dining room walls seemed to close in, trapping her between cold marble and Adrian’s looming figure. The weight of her choice pressed down on her shoulders. She had traded her freedom for her mother’s life, and now the price seemed impossibly steep.

“Your reasons don’t change the terms.” Adrian adjusted his cufflinks, the gesture casual, yet deliberate. “You made a choice. Now you’ll face the consequences of defying those terms.”

“This is insane.” Georgia’s back hit the wall. Her palms pressed against the cool surface, seeking escape where there was none. Panic fluttered in her chest like a trapped bird. “You can’t just?—”

“I can. And I will.” Adrian closed the distance between them, his shadow falling over her like a physical weight. “You agreed to my rules, Georgia. You don’t get to pick and choose which ones to follow.”

Blood rushed in Georgia’s ears. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but pride kept her rooted in place. She lifted her chin, meeting his stare. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her cower, even as fear coursed through her veins.

“I won’t let you break me.” The words came out stronger than she felt. Inside, she trembled with uncertainty, but she clung to this last shred of defiance like a lifeline.

A faint curve touched Adrian’s mouth, not warm enough to be called a smile, but deliberate, calculating. “Breaking you was never the goal. Teaching you, however…” His hand settled on her waist, grip firm enough to make her breath catch. “That begins now.”

Georgia’s breath hitched as Adrian’s grip anchored her against the wall. Her muscles coiled tight, every fiber of her being refusing to yield despite the thunder of her pulse beneath his touch. His proximity made it hard to think, to plan, to find a way out of this nightmare she’d signed herself into.

Heat bloomed where his hand rested, seeping through the thin fabric of her dress. She wanted to look away, to break free of his stare, but pride kept her gaze locked with his. Her jaw clenched against the tremor threatening to betray her uncertainty. His thumb traced a slow circle on her waist, the gesture more threat than comfort.

Georgia’s fingers curled into the wall behind her, seeking purchase where there was none. His eyes held hers, patient and knowing, as if her defiance was just another variable he’d accounted for. The thought that he might have anticipated every move, every reaction, sent a chill down her spine.

Adrian’s hand fell away from her waist, the sudden absence of his touch leaving her skin cold. A jolt went through her as he moved with fluid grace toward a dining chair. The scrape of wood against marble filled the silence as he pulled it out, each movement deliberate and unhurried. The sound grated against her nerves, a countdown to something she couldn’t escape.

Georgia’s pulse roared in her ears as he sat, his posture relaxed yet commanding. His legs spread slightly, an unspoken demand that made her throat go dry. She felt surrounded, outnumbered by just one man.

Her stomach twisted into knots as understanding dawned. The contract appeared in her mind, each clause she’d blindly signed now coming into sharp focus. She could refuse. Her muscles tensed at the thought, ready to run, to fight, to maintain some shred of control over her fate. The door seemed miles away, an impossible distance to cross.

But the reality of her situation crashed over her like ice water. The hospital bills. Her mother’s ongoing care. Her ruined reputation in the fashion world. Every thread of her life now rested in Adrian’s hands. He’d taken advantage of it all, ensuring she had no choice but to bend to his will. The cage had been crafted perfectly, with no visible way out.

He likely always got what he wanted. The thought settled in her chest like lead as she stood frozen against the wall, caught between pride and necessity. Men like Adrian never lost. They calculated every move, anticipated every response. She’d walked willingly into his web, and now struggled against threads too strong to break.

Adrian’s fingers circled her wrist before the thought of escape could materialize into action. The touch burned against her skin,his grip unyielding yet careful not to bruise. She hated that even in this, he maintained perfect control. Not enough to mark her, just enough to demonstrate his power.

A sharp tug sent her world tilting. Georgia’s stomach lurched as she lost her balance, tumbling across his lap in an ungraceful heap. The fabric of her dress twisted around her thighs, a rebellion as futile as her own. Humiliation burned through her as she realized the position she was in—childish, undignified, completely at his mercy.

Her palms pressed against the expensive wool of his suit pants, muscles locked in rigid resistance. Every inch of her body went taut, fighting the position she found herself in. The heat of his calf beneath her hands seared through her like a brand, marking this moment of surrender into her memory. She couldn’t believe this was happening, that she was draped across his lap like a disobedient child.

The first strike landed without warning. Sharp. Precise. The sting bloomed across Georgia’s backside, sending sparks of sensation through her body. A sharp inhale punched through her silence, more startled than pained. The humiliation burned hotter than the impact itself, the knowledge that he would actually do this, that he had the right to.

Adrian’s hand rested against her hip, holding her steady. The warmth of his palm seeped through her dress, burning into her skin as she lay draped over his knees.

Another strike fell, calculated in its placement. The pause between each impact stretched like honey, forcing her to feel every second, every sensation. Each moment of anticipation was its own form of punishment.

Georgia’s fingers curled into his pants, seeking purchase. The chair beneath them remained unmovable, solid as stone.

Her mind reeled. The contract had mentioned consequences, but the physical demonstration of his authority had never registered as a possibility. Heat pooled low in her stomach, warring with the indignation that made her want to twist away from his grasp.

Shame colored her cheeks as her body responded to each calculated strike of his hand. His touch lingered, even through the fabric of her dress. She bit her lip to keep from making a sound.

Adrian’s palm rested heavily on Georgia’s hip, the heat of his touch seeping through. She held her breath without meaning to, the silence between strikes dragging her nerves taut. The dining room’s shadows deepened around them, wrapping her in a cocoon of anticipation and shame. Each second of waiting became its own torment.

Her lungs struggled for air, each inhale fighting against the tension locked in her muscles. The lingering sting from his last strike pulsed across her rear. She tried to focus on her anger, on maintaining the wall of defiance she’d built, but it crumbled a little more with each moment she remained across his lap.

The next impact cracked through the silence. Pain bloomed fresh across her backside, the sensation rippling through her core. Georgia bit down on her lip, swallowing the sound that threatened to escape.

Adrian shifted, his grip tightening as he pulled her closer against him. The movement forced her hips higher, leaving no doubtabout who controlled this moment. Each new strike fell with calculated rhythm, painting her submission across heated skin.

Her pride railed against surrender, but her treacherous body had other ideas. Heat pooled low in her stomach, a response that had nothing to do with punishment.

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