The square ice cube in my glass struck the crystal wall with a lonely, sharp clink.

I brought the rim to my lips, letting the amber liquid slide down my throat. The spicy heat was a line of fire, burning from the root of my tongue all the way to my stomach, harsh enough to make my eyes water.

Clara Scott, you truly are a hopeless fool, I whispered to myself internally, my voice weary with self-loathing.

For twenty-one years, I had followed the rules, did everything I was supposed to do. My reward was watching the man I adored kiss another girl at his own birthday party, while I stood there like a clown. The gift I’d carefully prepared was tossed aside by her, her words dripping with condescension,

In that moment, all I wanted to do was run.

And so I came here, to a members-only club hidden in the heart of the city. The air was thick with the scent of expensive leather, aged wood, and faint cigar smoke—the smell of money and power.

I swirled my glass, my gaze drifting aimlessly through the dimly lit room. And then, I saw him.

He was alone in the deepest corner of the bar, a sculpture melted into the shadows. I couldn’t make out his features, only a silent, oppressive silhouette traced by the faint light from afar. His shoulders were broad enough to hold up the night sky, his perfectly tailored dark suit hinting at the power coiled within. He was perfectly still, yet he felt like the absolute center of the entire space.

Was it the whiskey’s magic, or the rebellion that had been screaming inside me for too long? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I was on my feet, holding the drink I’d ordered for my own stupidity, and walking step by step toward that dangerous shadow. My heels sank into the plush carpet, making no sound, but my heart was pounding like a war drum.

My voice was husky with a drunken boldness that felt foreign even to me.

He was silent for a few seconds, a stretch of time that felt like an eternity. I almost thought he wouldn’t answer.

Then, a voice rumbled in the quiet. It was deep, rich, like a cello playing at midnight. Each syllable carried a lethal magnetism that seemed to seep right into my bones.

he said,

My heart skipped a beat, clenched by an invisible hand. That voice… it was more intoxicating than the whiskey.

I tilted my chin up, challenging the dark, blurry shape before me.

I heard him let out a soft, almost imperceptible chuckle. It was laced with an amused and undisguised arrogance.

he called me, and the name made my skin prickle with a strange mix of discomfort and thrill,

As he finished speaking, he plucked the glass from my hand and placed it firmly on the bar. His cool fingertips brushed against the back of my hand, a small jolt of electricity that made me freeze.

That was the moment I lost control.

I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his.

It was my kiss—clumsy, desperate. But it only lasted for a second.

The next moment, a hot, large hand clamped around the back of my head, pulling me toward him with irrefutable force. The control shifted instantly. The kiss turned into an aggressive siege. His breath, a mix of liquor and a cold, woody scent,霸道地 invaded my senses. I was dizzy, my entire body going weak, my hands clutching helplessly at the expensive fabric of his suit.

Effortlessly, he lifted me from the barstool and settled me onto his lap. I was completely enveloped in his arms, and for the first time, I understood the raw, oppressive power of a man’s physique. His arm was like an iron clamp around my waist, holding me so tightly I couldn’t move, as if I were a unique trophy he had just captured.

My memory of what happened next is fragmented.

I only remember being swept up into his arms. His steps were so steady they were silent, his chest hard and warm, his heartbeat a powerful, rhythmic thud against my ear, like some ancient, hypnotic lullaby.

A soft click echoed as the door closed behind me.

I was pressed against the cold wood of the door. The room was unlit. Outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, the city’s neon lights wove a silent, phantasmagorical web, but they still couldn’t illuminate his face.

He began to unzip my dress, his movements slow, deliberate, with an almost cruel patience, as if he were unwrapping a precious gift. The sound of the zipper was deafening in the silence. As the dress slid down my body and pooled at my feet, I closed my eyes in shame.

His hot lips traveled down the line of my neck, and I couldn't stop trembling.

he murmured against my skin, his voice a low, panting growl.

I didn’t answer, just bit down hard on my lip. He seemed to chuckle again before lifting me and tossing me onto the obscenely large bed behind us. The mattress was so soft it felt like it was swallowing me whole. And then, the massive shadow covered me.

He was so big, like a mountain, completely eclipsing me in his darkness.

A sharp, unfamiliar pain made me gasp.

But he gave me no chance to retreat. He paused, like a patient beast calming its startled prey, and then he began to teach me, in the most primitive and powerful way, the rules of the grown-up world.

he commanded in my ear, each word punctuated by a deeper possession,

It wasn’t a question.

I couldn’t say anything. My consciousness was being torn apart between the unfamiliar pain and an overwhelming pleasure. The only thing I could do was grip the silky sheets beneath me and surrender completely to the rising tide. I didn’t know who he was, what he looked like. I only knew that a stranger whose face I couldn’t see had taken everything from me in the most domineering way possible.

…

When I opened my eyes again, the sky was a hazy, pre-dawn gray.

My head was splitting from the hangover, and fragmented images of last night’s madness stabbed at my mind.

I whipped my head to the side, my heart leaping into my throat.

He was asleep beside me, his breathing even. The faint morning light traced the strong line of his jaw and the high bridge of his nose. His hair was dark, falling messily over his forehead.

I didn't dare to look for a second longer.

Boundless panic and shame flooded me like an icy sea, drowning me whole. What have I done?

Like a frightened thief, I held my breath and carefully slid away from him, off the bed. The cold floor made my toes curl. I gathered my clothes, which were scattered across the floor, and clumsily pulled them on, not even bothering with the open zipper on my back.

I didn't dare to make a sound. Barefoot, I all but fled toward the door.

In the last moment before I closed it, I couldn’t stop myself from glancing back one last time. The figure on the bed was still sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of my escape.

I pulled the door open and slipped out.

Leaning against the cold corridor wall, I gasped for air, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I thought they would crack.

My mind was a complete blank, save for two things, seared into my memory by the night's madness:

The deep, cello-like voice of a man, and the feeling—painful and blissful, of being torn apart and filled, of being utterly and completely possessed.

Forbidden Craving — chapter eight

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