Page 32 of Until the Ink runs Crimson

I whimper against his palm as my body curls inward, thighs trembling, core clenching around his fingers. He doesn’t stop. He won’t stop until I fall apart.

“Come on,” he urges, voice low and rough. “Soak my fingers. Let me feel how bad you want it.”

That’s all it takes.

My orgasm slams into me like a freight train. My hips jerk, my body goes rigid, and I cry out against his hand—muffled, breathless—as I come all over his fingers. The pleasure rolls through me in overwhelming, relentless waves, and I shake in his lap, thighs clenched tight, heartbeat thundering.

He keeps me there, holding me through every aftershock, fingers still inside me, coaxing every last drop of release from my trembling body.

When I finally go limp against him, boneless and dazed, he pulls his fingers out slowly. They glisten with proof of what he’s done to me. What I let him do.

He holds them up like he’s admiring them. Then he brings them to his mouth, sucking one clean, eyes locked on mine the entire time.

“You taste like fucking heaven,” he mutters.

My breath catches, heat flaring all over again.

He reaches for a tissue and cleans his hand, slow, unhurried, cocky as hell.

And I’m still in his lap, heart pounding, thighs wet and shaking, completely and utterly ruined.

Then he leans in, voice low and gravelly against my ear. “You can be such a good girl when you want to be.”

My cheeks burn, and my chest tightens. I want to say something smart, something cutting, but my voice won’t cooperate. So I just nod slightly, pulling my robe closed and fastening the belt with trembling fingers, still feeling the echo of his touch between my thighs. This can't go on. This needs to stop.

"Same time tomorrow. Be in my office. On time."

I raise a brow, lips curving. "Anything else, boss?"

He smirks, eyes lingering on me. "Yeah. Dress appropriately. We’re going to the docks in Veldenport tomorrow."

I arch an eyebrow. "What? You want me in a pantsuit and pearls now?"

"Just not a robe," he says dryly. "And preferably something that doesn’t turn the hallway into a damn staring contest."

I snort. "Tough luck. I'm still wearing boots."

"Fair enough," he mutters, already turning back to his laptop, but there’s a glint in his eyes—an unspoken force between us.

I walk out with a half-smile tugging at my lips. It’s strange—how quickly power can start to feel like purpose. And now I’m not just some pawn playing pretend in silk and shadows.

I’m in this world now. On purpose.

Because if I want to tear down the man who sold me off like property—my own uncle—I need more than anger. I need control. Knowledge. Strategy.

I need to learn how the monsters move, so I can outdance every single one of them.

And then I’ll burn their world to ash, one piece at a time.

Chapter 14 – Lazaro

I move through the quiet halls of the penthouse, the only sound the soft echo of my boots on the marble floor. The early morning light filters through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the walls. It’s always quiet here, but that won’t be the case for long. Today is just another power move. Another day in control. I’ve always prided myself on that—on holding the reins, keeping everything tethered to my will.

The docks are waiting. That’s where we’ll go, and Calista’s coming with me. She’ll be the perfect arm piece, the perfect picture of my power and control. I’ve already calculated the moves—the steps we’ll take, the image we’ll project. But I know things have changed between us. The thought of her, of how she came all over my fingers yesterday, lingers in my mind like a poison. I can't stop thinking about her. Her body, the way she responded to me, it’s etched into my mind in a way that I can’t shake.

I reach her bedroom door, the metal handle cold beneath my fingers as I twist it. I enter without knocking. I never do. I have no reason to. Calista is mine, whether she acknowledges it or not.

But when I open the door, she’s not there. Her bed is made, everything in place, but the room is empty. The bathroom door is cracked open, and I hear the sound of running water. Her voice lingers in my head, sharp and defiant from our last encounter.

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