Wolves at the Door
741 Words
Not every predator bares his teeth. Some kiss with them first.
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Thursday — 2:34 PM
Ella couldn’t stop shaking.
The heat from Adrian's body still lingered in her skin… but so did the chill from his words.
“Only if you beg me to.”
He hadn’t just f****d her.
He’d claimed her.
And now every line between want, warning, and war was blurred.
She sat at her desk, typing up contracts she couldn’t concentrate on, replaying every moan and whisper like a dangerous loop in her mind.
Until she heard it:
“He always ruins the pretty ones first.”
Ella looked up sharply.
It was Carla, Adrian’s former assistant — the one who had left suddenly a few months ago and now worked in Accounts. Tall, cold, and beautiful, with red lips and calculating eyes.
“Excuse me?” Ella asked, voice clipped.
Carla leaned on the desk, smirking.
“He did the same to Maya. The same to me. Thought you’d be different?”
“You know nothing about me.”
“But I know everything about him.”
She dropped something onto Ella’s desk.
A flash drive.
“Watch it. Or don’t. Either way, it’s already begun.”
Carla walked away without another word.
Ella stared at the drive. Her hands were shaking again — but not from lust this time.
---
7:01 PM — Ella’s Apartment
She shut all the blinds. Poured a glass of water she didn’t drink. Inserted the flash drive into her laptop.
A video opened.
It was grainy. Old. But the face was clear.
Adrian Kane.
Shirtless. Holding a woman against a wall. Her face was obscured — but the sounds were real. Pain. Pleasure. Screams. And then... blood?
Ella covered her mouth.
The video cut off.
Below it, one sentence burned in the screen:
“The last one who got close to him disappeared.”
Ella backed away from the desk, her heart pounding.
She picked up her phone to call someone — anyone — when her screen lit up.
Adrian: “Still awake, sweetheart?”
She stared at the message.
Adrian: “You left your perfume on my sheets. Now I can't sleep.”
Her fingers hovered over the reply.
She didn’t send anything.
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9:47 PM — Adrian’s Penthouse
He knew she wouldn’t respond.
He stared at the empty message thread, a glass of scotch untouched on the table. Shirt open. Thoughts dark.
Then a knock.
Ella.
She stood there in a simple black dress — her hair tied up, her eyes unreadable.
“You lied again,” she said, walking in.
“About what?”
“Maya.”
His jaw clenched.
“That video’s fake.”
“Is it?”
She walked toward him. Slowly. Dangerously.
“I don’t know what you are,” she whispered. “But I keep wanting more of it.”
“That makes two of us.”
He grabbed her, but this time she pushed him down.
“No. My turn.”
She climbed into his lap, straddling him, unbuttoning his shirt with slow precision.
Her mouth found his neck — soft kisses trailing to his collarbone. Her hips rocked against his hardness, teasing, punishing.
“You ruin women?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Then ruin me properly.”
He growled, fingers digging into her thighs as she lowered herself, grinding over him, still fully clothed. Their breath mixed hot and fast. He tried to flip her — she stopped him.
“You don’t control me tonight.”
He leaned back, lips parting, surrendering — for the first time.
“Then f**k me, Ella.”
She pulled down her panties, dragged his zipper open, and sank down onto him — slow, deep, hot.
They both gasped.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “You feel like sin.”
“That’s the idea.”
She rode him hard, chasing her own release, making him beg with his body before she ever gave him her mouth.
And when she finally leaned down, whispering into his ear—
“Next time, tell me everything.”
She bit his shoulder.
Came hard.
Collapsed into his chest.
---
11:59 PM — Outside the Penthouse
A black car waited.
Inside, someone watched Ella leave through binoculars.
“She’s in.”
“Good,” a deep voice answered on the phone. “Let her keep digging. She’ll find out who really ruined Maya.”
The line went dead.
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