Chapter Five:
Backseat, Legs Spread
The car was waiting at the curb.
A black sedan, sleek, tinted. The driver stepped out to open the door for us, giving Julien a stiff nod.
I didn’t look at him—I couldn’t.
Not with my jaw hurting from being used in the elevator. Not with Julien’s c*m drying on the skin of my chin, one he didn’t let me wipe because it looked like the prettiest accessory.
I slid into the back seat.
He followed.
The door shut.
The car pulled away.
But the air between us crackled like we were still in that elevator—him in control, me already on my knees in my mind.
Julien didn’t say a word. Not until the city blurred by and the partition between the front and back hadn’t been raised.
That was when he leaned in, voice low but clear.
“Lift your dress.”
I froze.
