~Lily~
I woke sore and marked. The bruises on my hips had bloomed overnight — purple crescents from his fingers, evidence of his claiming.
The bite on my throat throbbed with every swallow, visible to anyone who looked, announcing exactly what I'd become. Between my legs, his seed had dried in sticky trails, and when I moved, I felt him still — the stretch and fullness.
Adrian entered my bedroom without knocking, dressed in charcoal suit, his eyes finding the marks on my throat with visible satisfaction. "Training begins," he said, tossing a garment onto my bed. "Wear this. Nothing beneath. We have a dinner party to attend."
The dress was insane — ivory silk, cut to cling to every curve, the hem stopping mid-thigh, the neckline plunging to expose the bite mark he'd left. No underwear.
