HIS PET, HIS RULES

The First Night

Daisy’s suitcase looked pitifully small against the vastness of Xander’s penthouse.

She stood at the threshold, clutching the handle, her heart hammering as her eyes swept the space. Floor-to-ceiling windows opened to the glittering skyline, casting shadows across marble floors and dark leather furniture. The air smelled faintly of smoke and expensive cologne, sharp and intoxicating, just like the man who now owned her nights.

Xander leaned against the doorframe, watching her with that unreadable gaze. His presence filled the room more than the city lights ever could.

“You’ll sleep here,” he said, his voice calm but commanding. “My home is now yours. But remember, Daisy, nothing here is free. Everything comes with obedience.”

Her throat tightened. She nodded, though her hands curled nervously against the suitcase handle.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and the simple praise sent heat rushing through her veins.

Dinner had been silent, tense. He didn’t ask about her day, her grief, her fears. He didn’t need to. Xander seemed to peel her open with just his gaze, exposing all the weaknesses she tried to hide.

Now, hours later, she stood in his bedroom.

The space was darker, warmer than the rest of the penthouse. Heavy drapes muted the city’s glow, and the only light came from the amber lamps beside his bed. Daisy stood frozen by the door, every nerve alight, while Xander loosened his tie with deliberate slowness.

“Undress,” he said. Not a question. A command.

Her breath hitched. “Here?”

He arched a brow, taking a single step closer. “Where else? My rules, Daisy. And rule number one, when I give you an order, you obey.”

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the hem of her blouse. Every inch of fabric she peeled away felt like surrender, like exposing not just her skin but the fragile control she clung to. By the time she stood in her slip, her cheeks burned, and she couldn’t meet his eyes.

Xander, however, studied her without shame. Slowly, he approached, his hand lifting to trace the line of her shoulder. His touch was featherlight, almost reverent, but beneath it was steel possession disguised as gentleness.

“You’re beautiful when you tremble,” he whispered, his lips grazing her ear.

Her knees wobbled. The room felt too hot, too close. His scent surrounded her, his presence drowning her until she could barely think.

He didn’t rush. That was the torment.

His fingers skimmed her collarbone, down her arm, stopping just before her wrist. He tilted her chin upward, forcing her eyes to meet his. The heat in his gaze was devastating, burning through her defenses.

“You signed the contract,” he said softly. “That makes you mine. But I won’t break you in one night. No… I’ll unravel you slowly. One touch at a time.”

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t polite. His mouth claimed hers with ruthless intensity, parting her lips, stealing her breath. Her hands flew up instinctively to grip his shirt, clinging as if he were the only solid thing left in her world.

The kiss deepened, hot and unrelenting, and Daisy felt herself melt against him. Every command, every denial from the nights before coiled together into this heat, hunger, surrender.

When he finally pulled back, her lips were swollen, her chest heaving. He studied her with a dark, satisfied smile.

“Already addicted,” he murmured, brushing his thumb across her lower lip. “And I’ve barely touched you.”

Her body ached with need, but Xander only pulled her closer until her chest pressed against his. His hand slid into her hair, tilting her head back as his mouth traced a line down her throat. She gasped when his teeth grazed her pulse, when his tongue soothed the mark with sinful patience.

“Every sound you make belongs to me,” he whispered against her skin. “Every shiver. Every gasp. You’ll learn that, Daisy.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, her body betraying her as heat pooled low and insistent.

But then, he stopped.

Xander pulled back, his control unshaken even as her body trembled with want. His gaze was sharp, his smirk infuriatingly calm.

“Not tonight,” he said. “Tonight, you learn restraint. Desire is stronger when it’s starved.”

Her lips parted, a protest caught in her throat. She wanted to beg, to demand more. But the glint in his eyes warned her this was his game, his pace.

Xander brushed a final kiss against her temple, slow and almost tender. Then he stepped back, leaving her trembling in the middle of his bedroom.

“Go to bed, Daisy,” he ordered softly. “And dream of how it feels when I finally decide you’ve earned more than my kiss.”

Later, as she lay beneath silk sheets, her body still thrumming with frustration and need, Daisy stared at the ceiling and tried to steady her breath.

She hated him. She craved him.

And worst of all, she knew he was right. She was already addicted.