Page 69 of Ruthless Arrangement

She rises, the shirt falling to mid-thigh, revealing long legs still bearing faint red marks from my grip. She doesn’t bother buttoning it, leaving the top three undone to reveal the curve of her breasts and the constellation of marks I’ve left there. The sight makes my cock stir despite the thoroughness of last night’s activities.

“Coffee?” she asks, padding toward the kitchen with a deliberate sway to her hips.

“Please,” I respond, making no move to leave the bed just yet. The view is too enticing.

I listen to her move around the kitchen, the sound of water filling the carafe, the quiet hiss as the machine brews. Ordinary sounds made extraordinary by their domesticity. By the illusion of normalcy, they create.

When she returns with two steaming mugs, I’ve propped myself against the headboard, sheet pooled at my waist. Her eyes linger on my bare chest, tracking the scars that map my history. Some from childhood, some from business gone wrong, all part of the record that made me who I am.

“Cream, no sugar,” she says, handing me the mug. That she remembers how I take my coffee shouldn’t please me as much as it does.

“Thank you.” I accept the offering, allowing our fingers to brush in the exchange. She doesn’t pull away from the contact, another deliberate move in our ongoing chess match.

She perches on the edge of the bed, legs tucked beneath her, studying me over the rim of her mug. “What’s the plan for today? Still heading to your penthouse?”

I sip my coffee, appreciating the rich bitterness. “After breakfast. I have some business to attend to this afternoon, a meeting with international contacts that can’t be rescheduled.”

Her expression brightens with feigned interest. “Will I be joining you at the meeting?”

And there it is, the journalist beneath the lover, always hunting for access, for information, for the story.I hide my amusement behind another sip of coffee.

“Not this time,” I reply, watching disappointment flicker across her features before she masks it. “These particular associates are traditional in their views. A woman’s presence would complicate matters.”

She nods, accepting the explanation without protest, another sign of her new strategy.The old Lea would have argued, pushed for inclusion, demanded equal access.This new, compliant version sets my teeth on edge even as it captivates me.

“I understand,” she says, setting her mug on the nightstand. “I should get dressed then.”

She makes no move to retrieve her clothes, instead sliding the shirt from her shoulders with deliberate slowness. The fabric whispers against her skin as it falls, pooling around her knees on the bed. She’s naked now, her skin flawless in the morning light, her nipples hard, her pussy bare and glistening. She watches me, daring me to react.

My cock twitches, already hard, but beneath the desire, anger simmers. She thinks she’s playing me, this 23-year-old journalist with her clever eyes and traitor’s heart. She thinks she can manipulateme, The Diplomat, the man who breaks empires. Last night was a taste, but today, I’m going to punish her until she can’t walk for days.

I set my coffee aside, my eyes never leaving her. “You think you can tease me, piccola?” I growl, my voice low, dangerous. “Think you can flash that pretty body and I’ll forget you’re a manipulating journalist who thinks she’s clever?”

Her eyes widen, maybe a flicker of fear, but she covers it with a sultry smile. “I’m just getting ready, Nico. Don’t you want me to?”

The teasing innocent tone is decent acting, but not fooling me. She’s still trying to play me. I’m on her in a second, as I yank her head back. She gasps, but her pupils dilate, betraying her arousal. “On your knees. Now.”

She hesitates, just enough to test me, and I tighten my grip, forcing her off the bed and onto the floor. She lands on her knees, looking up at me with a mix of defiance and heat. “You’re such a bastard,” she mutters, but her hands are already reaching for my belt.

“Keep talking,” I say, my voice cold. “It’ll only make this rougher.” I unbuckle my pants, freeing my cock, already rock-hard and leaking. Her eyes widen at the size, and I smirk. “Open that smart mouth, Lea. Let’s see how well you take your punishment.”

She leans forward, her tongue darting out to lick the tip, and I groan, the sensation shooting through me. But I’m not here for gentle. I grab her head with both hands, holding her still, and thrust into her mouth, hard and deep. She gags, her throat constricting around me, but she doesn’t pull back. Fuck, she takes it like a champ, her eyes watering as I fuck her face, each thrust punishing, relentless.

“That’s it,” I growl, my voice rough with pleasure. “Choke on my cock, you little liar. You thought you could play me? This is what you get.”

She moans around me, the vibration sending a jolt through my balls, and I feel her hands grip my thighs, steadying herself as I push deeper. Her gags are loud, wet, and fucking perfect, her throat tight and hot. Tears stream down her cheeks, but she’s not fighting me. She’s taking it, her tongue swirling even as she struggles to breathe. “Fuck, you’re good at this,” I say, my voice thick. “Look at you, gagging on my dick like you were born for it.”

She tries to pull back, gasping for air, and says, “You’re such a fucking prick.” Her voice is hoarse, defiant, and it only fuels my anger.

“Wrong answer,” I snarl, shoving back into her mouth, deeper this time, holding her there until she’s choking, her hands slapping my thighs. “Talk back again, and I’ll fuck your throat until you pass out.” I pull out just before I come, my cock slick with her spit, and she coughs, panting, her lips swollen and red. She’s a mess, and it’s fucking beautiful.

“Get up,” I order, yanking her to her feet by her hair. She stumbles, but I don’t give her time to recover. I spin her around, bending her over the bed, her ass in the air, her pussy glistening. “You don’t get to come until I say so,” I say, my hand cracking against her ass, hard enough to leave a red print. She cries out, but her hips push back, begging for more.

“You’re an asshole,” she gasps, her voice trembling with a mix of pain and need.

I spank her again, harder, and she moans, the sound raw and desperate. “Keep talking, piccola,” I say, my voice a dark promise. “Every word makes me want to fuck you even harder.” I pull her head back, arching her spine. “You’re mine, Lea. Your body, your lies, your fucking soul. I own you.”

I line up my cock, teasing her entrance, and she whimpers, trying to push back. I hold her still, my grip bruising. “Beg for it,” I demand. “Tell me how bad you want my cock.”

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