The fluorescent lights of the lobby feel like an attack on my eyes. It is seven AM. I am standing in the elevator, watching the floor numbers climb toward the penthouse, my heart hammering heavily and quick against my ribs. Every time the elevator jolts, I feel a sharp, heavy ache between my thighs, a constant, pulsing reminder of the way Marvin possessed me on his office desk only hours ago.
I am wearing a cream-colored silk blouse and a charcoal pencil skirt. I chose a lower neckline than usual, just as he suggested. When I caught my reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator, I saw the dark, purplish mark on my collarbone where his teeth had claimed me. It looks like a brand. I didn't try to cover it with concealer. The thought of him seeing it, of him knowing I obeyed, makes a f
