The study smelled of aged leather, whiskey, and raw tension. Sophia stood barefoot in the middle of the room wearing nothing but a thin silk robe Victor had tossed at her after dragging her downstairs. Her thighs still glistened from the load he’d left inside her upstairs. She could feel it slowly leaking down her skin every time she shifted her weight.
Victor sat behind his massive oak desk like a king on his throne, shirt unbuttoned, jaw tight. Damien lounged against the edge of the desk, arms crossed, that cocky smirk firmly in place even though the air between them crackled like a live wire.
“You couldn’t wait five f*****g minutes?” Victor’s voice was dangerously quiet. “She’s been here less than a week and you’re already sneaking around my house, pumping your c**k into what belongs
