His To Ruin

Chapter 3 - The Bargain

The door opened without a sound.

Leo's room was dark except for a single lamp on the far nightstand. Amber light. Shadows stretched long across hardwood floors. The air smelled like him — cedar, smoke, something clean and punishing.

He was sitting in a leather armchair by the window.

Still in his suit pants. Barefoot. White dress shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest. A glass of whiskey rested on the arm of the chair. He wasn't drinking it. He was waiting.

He didn't look at her when she stepped inside.

"Close the door," he said.

Jaime closed it.

The lock clicked louder than it should have.

"Come here."

Three words. Flat. No heat. That was worse somehow — the calmness. Like he'd already decided everything that was about to happen and her participation was a formality.

She walked toward him. Barefoot now — she'd left her heels in the hallway. The carpet was thick under her toes. Her dress was still the same champagne-colored silk from the reception. She hadn't changed. He hadn't asked her to.

When she was three feet away, he finally looked up.

His eyes traveled up her body slowly. Ankles. Calves. The place where her thighs pressed together. Her waist. The neckline of her dress. Her mouth. Her eyes.

"Turn around," he said.

She turned.

Silence. She could feel him looking at her back. The exposed zipper. The curve of her spine.

"Your dress is crooked," he said. "Fix it."

She reached behind herself and straightened the zipper. Her fingers trembled. He didn't comment on that either.

"Face me."

She turned back.

Leo stood up.

He was taller than her by six inches. Broader. He didn't need to loom to feel enormous. He just was. He picked up his whiskey, took a slow sip, and set it down again.

"You came," he said.

"You told me to."

"That's not why." He stepped closer. "You came because you want to be here. Say it."

Jaime's throat tightened. "I want to be here."

"Again. Slower."

"I want to be here."

Leo nodded. One small approval. Then his hand came up — not fast, not slow — and his fingers brushed the side of her neck. Just the lightest touch. Her pulse jumped under his fingertips.

He smiled.

"Liar," he said softly. "You're terrified."

"I'm not—"

"You're shaking, Jaime. I can feel it." His thumb traced her jaw. "But you didn't run. You didn't knock. You just opened the door and walked into my room at midnight like you belonged here."

She held his gaze. "Maybe I do."

His smile disappeared.

"Don't lie to me twice."

The air shifted. He was done playing.

He walked around her slowly. Circling. She stood still because she didn't know what else to do. His hand brushed her shoulder. Then her lower back. Then the back of her neck.

"I told you in the greenhouse," he said behind her. "Terms. Rules." A pause. "You're living in my house now. My mother is a ghost. My father is a businessman. My siblings are competitors. The only person in this family who tells the truth is me."

His breath touched her ear.

"And the truth is, Jaime — I don't want a step-sister. I don't want a roommate. I don't want someone who needs permission to exist."

His hands settled on her hips. Not grabbing. Resting.

"I want someone who gives me everything. And asks for nothing except what I choose to give."

She should have said something clever. Something defiant.

Instead: "What do I call you?"

Leo stilled behind her.

"What did you say?"

"What do I call you?" she repeated. "When it's just us. I'm not saying 'Leo' while you're holding me like this."

A long silence. Then he turned her around to face him.

His eyes were dark. Hungry. But something else too — something she hadn't seen before. Surprise. Maybe even respect.

"You call me sir," he said quietly. "Unless I tell you otherwise. And you ask permission before you touch me. Before you speak. Before you come."

Heat flooded her face. Her chest. Lower.

"And if I don't?"

"Then I stop." He tilted his head. "I don't force anyone, Jaime. I don't need to. You'll do what I ask because a part of you has been waiting for someone to ask properly."

She hated how right he was.

"One rule," he continued. "One word and everything stops. You say it, I walk away. No questions. No punishment. No second-guessing. Do you understand?"

"Crinkles," she said.

His eyebrows lifted slightly. "You know the word."

"I know a lot of things."

"Then you know what happens next."

He stepped back. Just one step. Enough space to look at her fully.

"Take off your dress."

Jaime's heart slammed against her ribs.

"Now," he added. Not louder. Just deeper.

She reached for the zipper. Slower than she intended. The silk slid down her shoulders, her hips, pooling at her feet. She stood in front of him in black lace — bra, thong, nothing else. The room was cool. Her skin was not.

Leo looked at her like he was memorizing every inch.

"Good," he said. "Now the rest."

She unclasped her bra. Let it fall. Hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her thong and pushed it down.

Naked. Completely. Under a single amber lamp while a man in an unbuttoned dress shirt watched her like she was already his.

"Come here," he said again.

She walked forward. No more three feet of distance. She stopped when her boobs nearly touched his chest.

Leo didn't reach for her. He looked down at her mouth, then her eyes, then her mouth again.

"Ask me," he said.

"Ask you what?"

"To touch you."

She swallowed. "I don't know how."

"Yes you do." His voice was soft. Cruel. "You've been asking me since the greenhouse. Every time you didn't push me away. Every time you came when I called. You've been begging me all night, Jaime. Now use your words."

Her hands clenched at her sides.

"Touch me," she whispered.

"Not good enough."

"Please."

"Please what?"

Her eyes burned. Not tears — frustration. Want. Something that felt like breaking.

"Please touch me, sir."

Leo's hand came up so fast she flinched. But he didn't hit her. He cupped her face. Thumb brushing her cheekbone. Then his mouth was on hers — not the greenhouse kiss, not possession. Something worse.

Claiming.

His other hand slid down her back, gripped her ass, pulled her against him. She felt his c**k hard through his suit pants. She moaned into his mouth and he swallowed it like he owned that too.

He walked her backward until her legs hit the bed. The mattress was low. She fell onto it — or he put her there, she couldn't tell anymore.

He stood above her. Looking down.

"I'm going to take my time," he said, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way. "You're going to lie there and take what I give you. And when I'm done, you're going to thank me."

He shrugged off the shirt. His body was lean, muscled, scattered with old scars — one on his ribs, one across his collarbone. She wanted to ask. She didn't.

He unbuckled his belt slowly. Deliberately. The sound of leather sliding through metal was louder than it should have been.

"You don't touch me unless I say," he said. "You don't come unless I say. You don't speak unless you have something worth hearing."

His pants dropped. Then his boxers.

His c**k was already hard, and boy, was it thick. She looked at him and felt her body respond — wet, open, ready. She hated how ready she was.

Leo climbed onto the bed. Not rushed. He knelt between her legs, ran his hands up her thighs, spread her open.

"You're so goddamn wet," he murmured. "And I haven't even started."

He lowered his head.

His tongue found her c**t and Jaime's back arched off the bed. She grabbed the sheets because she wasn't allowed to grab him. He licked her slowly. Teasing. Then faster. He sucked her whole p***y, then continued licking.

"Say it," he said against her thigh.

"Ugh. W-what?" Jaime was out of breath.her head was spinning.

"Tell me you need more."

"I need... f**k, I need more."

"More what?"

She was going to kill him.

"More, sir. Please."

He smiled against her skin. Then his mouth was back on her, one finger sliding inside, then two. He worked her open while his tongue circled her c**t. She was close — too close — and she bit her lip so hard she tasted copper.

"You can come," he said without stopping. "But you look at me when you do."

She opened her eyes. He was watching her. Gray eyes. Dark. Unblinking.

She came apart looking into them.

Her body shook. Her thighs closed around his head. He didn't move. He let her ride it out, his mouth still on her, gentler now. When she stopped trembling, he kissed her inner thigh and looked up.

"Good girl."

The words hit her harder than the orgasm.

He moved up her body. Kissed her stomach. Her ribs. The hollow of her throat. When his mouth reached her ear, he whispered: "Still want this?"

"Yes."

"Say the whole thing."

"Yes, sir. I still want this."

He positioned himself between her legs. She felt the head of him press against her entrance. He didn't push inside. He just rested there. Waiting.

"One more thing," he said. "You're not my girlfriend. You're not my step-sister. You're mine. While you're under this roof, your body belongs to me. Your pleasure belongs to me. Your no belongs to me."

"And my yes?"

His hips pushed forward. Just an inch. She gasped.

"Your yes," he said, "is the only thing I want."

He thrust inside her fully.

Jaime cried out. He was thicker than she remembered. Deeper. He filled her completely and then kept going — not moving yet, just holding himself there while she adjusted.

"Breathe," he said.

She breathed.

He pulled out slowly. Pushed back in. Found a rhythm — hard, steady, punishing. One hand pinned her wrist above her head. The other gripped her hip hard enough to bruise.

"Look at me," he said.

She looked.

He f****d her like he was angry. Like she'd done something to him and this was the only punishment that fit. But his eyes weren't angry. They were hungry. Scared, even. Like she was something he didn't know how to keep.

She reached up with her free hand — forgetting the rule — and touched his face.

He stopped moving.

For one terrible second, she thought he'd throw her off.

Then he turned his head and kissed her palm.

"You're going to ruin me," he said quietly.

And then he started moving again — faster, rougher — and she stopped thinking entirely.

He came inside her with a sound she'd never heard from him before. Something broken. Something real. He collapsed beside her, breathing hard, one arm thrown over his face.

They lay there in silence.

Finally, he spoke.

"Midnight," he said. "Every night. My room. Door unlocked."

Jaime stared at the ceiling. Her body was wrecked. Her mind was worse.

"And if I don't show up?"

Leo lowered his arm. Turned his head toward her.

"Then I come find you."

He wasn't smiling.

Neither was she.