Chapter Three: The First Night
949 Words
Ella stood in front of the black door, clutching the same envelope from that morning—the one with the silver word that had haunted her all day: Two.
No name. No instructions. Just the time—11:30 PM—written in precise handwriting on the back.
Now, standing in the dim hallway of The Red Room, her palms were sweating. Her heart pounded, not with fear, but with something wilder.
Anticipation. Terror. Hunger.
She’d almost convinced herself not to come.
Then she remembered the way Rhett had looked at her. Like he could strip her down with a glance. Like he already knew how she’d sound falling apart under him.
And she wanted that.
God help her, she wanted to know what it felt like to surrender to someone who didn’t ask for permission—only obedience.
She knocked once.
The door opened immediately.
And there he was.
Rhett Wolfe, dressed in black from shirt to slacks, the sleeves rolled just enough to reveal tattoos wrapping his forearms like inked armor. His expression was unreadable—but his eyes devoured her.
He didn’t speak. Just stepped back and let her enter.
The room was dimly lit, walls draped in heavy fabric the color of wine. A single velvet chair sat in the center. No bed. No music. No distractions.
He shut the door behind her with a soft click.
“Take off your shoes,” he said.
His voice was deep. Commanding. It raked down her spine like heat.
Ella hesitated—but only for a second. Then slipped off her heels.
“Dress too.”
She glanced at him. He said nothing more. Just watched.
With trembling hands, she reached behind and unzipped the silk. Let it fall.
She stood in nothing but black lace—matching bra and panties. She hadn’t meant to wear something seductive. She hadn’t expected to stay.
But maybe… part of her had hoped.
His gaze raked over her slowly. No leer. No approval. Just possession.
“Turn around.”
She obeyed.
“Do you trust me?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He moved behind her, slow, close—but didn’t touch her yet.
“I’m not going to f**k you tonight, Ella.”
Her breath caught.
He was close enough for her to feel the heat of him, the dark whisper of his breath against her neck.
“Tonight, I’m going to teach you how to feel.”
---
He blindfolded her with silk—cool, smooth, and scented faintly like him.
The moment her sight vanished, the rest of her senses exploded.
Every brush of air, every sound, became amplified.
“Sit.”
She found the velvet chair by touch, heart hammering.
Then came the first touch—his fingers on her knees, spreading them slowly. Her breath hitched.
He didn’t speak.
Just let his hands trail up her inner thighs, never reaching where she needed him. Not yet.
“Breathe, Ella,” he murmured. “Let go.”
She tried.
Tried not to flinch when he dragged the tip of a cold glass across her belly, up between her breasts.
Tried not to moan when his fingers slid beneath the edge of her bra, brushing one n****e—once—before withdrawing.
“You’re shaking.”
“You’re cruel,” she whispered.
He chuckled. “No, baby. Cruel would be touching you until you're right there and stopping. I’m worse. I’ll teach your body to ache without needing to touch at all.”
His mouth replaced his fingers—hot, wet, and suddenly there.
He sucked one n****e through the lace, slow and deep, while one hand slipped between her legs—over her panties, pressing down.
She gasped. Her hips lifted on instinct.
“Stay still.”
She whimpered.
He teased her with maddening slowness. Tongue swirling. Fingers stroking in lazy, light circles. He never rushed. Never gave her enough.
“You like being watched, don’t you?”
“There’s no one here—”
“I’m watching,” he said, voice thick. “And you’re dripping for it.”
Ella arched as he finally, finally moved her panties aside. One finger slid through her slick folds, parting her.
She moaned.
“Say it,” he whispered. “Say what you want.”
“I want you to—”
“To what?” he interrupted. “Use you? Ruin you?”
Her hips bucked.
“You want to be broken open on my hand, Ella?”
“Yes,” she gasped. “God, yes.”
He growled. The sound rumbled against her chest.
And then—two fingers.
He slid them inside her, slow but deep, curling just right.
She shattered instantly. Body tensing. Heat exploding behind her eyes as the orgasm ripped through her.
But he didn’t stop.
He f****d her through it—slow and rough—dragging another moan from her as her body clamped down again.
And again.
“Please,” she cried. “Please—”
“Please what?” he snarled, finally losing control. “Tell me.”
“Don’t stop.”
He growled, dragging his thumb up to circle her c**t while still pumping into her, fast now, relentless.
She came again—harder—biting down on a scream as her vision went white behind the blindfold.
Only when she slumped forward, gasping and trembling, did he finally pull back.
He tugged the silk from her eyes.
And there he was—standing over her, his breathing heavy. His own erection strained beneath his slacks, but he didn’t touch himself. Didn’t ask for thanks.
He just watched her fall apart.
And smiled.
“One,” he whispered.
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