Chapter 50

Kelvin's POV

The touch of her skin was magic. Feeling her breasts on my chest was all it would have taken to undo me. But she needed to be taught a lesson.

My cock had been hard since we started kissing, and I was aching to bend her over and ravish her. It had surprised me when she took the initiative.

The moment she stormed out of my office, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the glass, I let out a slow breath, my fingers tightening around the cigarette between them.

Fuck.

I took another long drag, letting the smoke cloud my senses, but it did nothing to drown out the image burned into my mind. She had laid there, flushed and breathless, sprawled out on my office floor in nothing but her underwear.

She had looked so fucking perfect.

My jaw clenched as heat surged through me, my body betraying the cold control I had forced myself to maintain in front of her. I’d pushed her away, toyed with her, because letting her think she had any power over me was dangerous.

But fuck, she did have power over me. At least over the guy down there. I looked down to see him straining hard against my still loosened flies.

I ground out the cigarette and leaned back in my chair, eyes shutting as the memory of her flooded my mind.

Her wide, desperate eyes. The way her fingers had trembled against my skin. The soft, breathy moans that had spilled from her lips.

My hand drifted to the front of my slacks, palming the painful hardness there.

I let myself remember the way her body had arched toward me, the way she had looked up at me like I was the only thing she wanted in the world… I was lost.

A low groan rumbled from my throat as I unbuckled my belt, my breaths coming faster. I wrapped my fingers around my cock, stroking slowly, teasing, the same way I had teased her.

I could still see her, her body writhing, her lips parted—

“Fuck,” I rasped, gripping harder, my hips jerking slightly off the chair.

She had no idea what she did to me.

No idea how close I had been to losing control.

No idea that if I had let myself have her, I wouldn’t have been able to stop.

My fingers yearned to touch her, my mouth to taste her.

A delicious shudder shot through me as the tension coiled tighter, pleasure building, every stroke pushing me closer to the edge as the image of her consumed me.

With a sharp exhale, I cummed into my hand, pleasure ripping through me like a violent storm.

I sat there for a moment, chest rising and falling, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Then, as reality crashed back in, a slow smirk curled on my lips.

It grew into a low, dark chuckle that slipped past my lips as I leaned back in my chair, dragging a hand through my hair.

“My old man always told me,” I muttered to myself, exhaling a trail of smoke, “think with your head, not your dick.”

Smart advice. But fuck, it barely worked when it came to her.

I adjusted my belt, my body still pulsing with the aftermath of release, but the hunger? That didn’t fade. If anything, it only made me crave more.

She had no idea what she did to me.

She thought storming out of here, all fiery rage and wounded pride, was some kind of victory. That she had taken back control. But she couldn’t hide the way she’d looked at me with need and hunger, fighting against something she didn’t want to admit.

I smirked, tapping ash into the tray beside me.

She could scream, curse, and run all she wanted. But she wanted me. I saw it in the way her body responded, the way she trembled under my touch, the way her breath hitched every time I got too close.

And whether she liked it or not, she’d be back.

A sharp knock on the door snapped me out of my thoughts.

I straightened in my chair, rolling my shoulders back before exhaling a slow breath.

"Come in," I called, my voice smooth, controlled like I hadn’t just been drowning in the thought of doing crazy things to a particular female.

The door opened, and Dylan stepped in. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something grim.

The moment our eyes met, I knew whatever he had to say wasn’t good.

“What is it?” I asked, flicking ash off my cigarette before putting it out completely.

He closed the door behind him and turned to face me. His lips were pressed into a tight line as he stepped forward.

“Betrayal.” His voice was cold. “It’s the worst thing for you, isn’t it?”

My fingers curled into a fist on the desk.

Dylan never danced around words, but tonight, there was a weight behind them that I couldn't ignore.

I leaned forward, my jaw tightening.

"Who?"

His eyes darkened. "I don't have names yet, but I have a trail."

A dangerous smile curled my lips, slow and sharp.

"Then find them," I said, my voice like steel. "Because whoever is involved..." I let the words hang in the air before finishing in a low, venomous whisper—

"They're already dead."