The shower in the private suite was larger than my entire old bathroom.

Hot water pounded over my shoulders while I stood there trembling, still feeling the phantom stretch of Adrian’s cock and the dull ache between my thighs. My reflection in the glass was a mess—lipstick smeared, hair wrecked, a faint red mark on my hip where his fingers had dug in. I should have been scrubbing him off me. Instead I kept replaying the way he’d looked when I signed the contract: calm, satisfied, already deciding how he would use me next.

Nineteen minutes later I walked into the master bedroom wearing only the short black silk robe...