Punishment and Reward

Chapter Four: Punishment & Reward

The moment they stepped inside the penthouse, the doors slammed shut with a bang that echoed like thunder.

Marco didn’t speak.

Elena stood frozen near the wall, the strap of her dress slipping from one shoulder. Her heart hammered against her ribs, adrenaline still surging from the chaos at the gallery. She could feel the heat radiating off him as he stalked into the room like a predator returning to his lair.

His jacket hit the floor first. Then the cufflinks. Then his tie.

Each movement was measured, controlled—but beneath it was a storm barely held in check.

She opened her mouth. “Marco—”

“Don’t,” he growled, turning to face her fully. “You left the house without telling me. You let some bastard artist flirt with you. Then you stood there and let him talk like he could touch what’s mine.”

Elena straightened her spine, defiant. “I didn’t do anything wrong. He came to me. I didn’t encourage it—”

“You wore that dress,” he cut in, voice low and vicious. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“I wore it for me. Not for him. Not for anyone.”

Marco’s dark eyes locked with hers. “You wore it for me,” he said, stalking toward her until her back hit the cold marble wall. “Because you knew it would drive me mad. You knew I’d lose my fucking mind thinking about every pair of eyes that looked at you.”

His hand slid up her thigh, pushing the fabric higher.

“Marco—”

“Shh.”

He spun her around with shocking speed, pressing her front against the wall. One hand gripped her wrists, pinning them above her head. The other reached beneath her dress, tugging her panties down slowly.

Elena’s breath hitched.

“You want freedom?” he whispered against her ear. “You want space?”

Then he stepped back.

“Get on the bed.”

She turned slowly, her chest heaving. “What are you—”

“Get. On. The bed.”

The way he said it left no room for negotiation. Elena crossed the room on shaky legs, her panties around her knees, her dress barely clinging to her body. She climbed onto the massive mattress, heart thudding like a war drum.

Marco opened a drawer by the nightstand.

Her eyes widened. “Marco…”

Silk rope.

His fingers were steady as he approached the bed, crawling over her like a shadow with a heartbeat. He straddled her, eyes burning.

“I’m going to punish you,” he said, voice like silk and sin. “Not because you disobeyed me. But because you enjoyed it.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did.” He smirked. “You liked the attention. You liked watching me lose control.”

And then he kissed her, hard and brutal.

The rope slid around her wrists—soft, but unyielding. He tied her to the headboard, his eyes never leaving hers. Then he moved lower, lips trailing down her neck, biting just enough to make her gasp.

“You belong to me, Elena. And tonight, I’m going to remind you exactly what that means.”

His mouth reached her core, and she bucked beneath him, already moaning. He didn’t ease into it—he devoured her. Tongue and teeth and fingers working in perfect, cruel harmony until she was sobbing his name, tied and writhing and begging for release.

But he didn’t let her come.

Not yet.

He pulled away just before she tipped over the edge, his breath ragged, his mouth wet with her arousal. Her frustration twisted into something feral.

“Marco, please—”

He leaned over her, pressing his cock—hard and hot—against her entrance. “You’ll come,” he said, voice like thunder, “when I say.”

Then he thrust into her, deep and punishing. She screamed.

And this time, he didn’t stop.

Over and over, he took her. Breaking her. Worshiping her. Owning her.

Until she was sobbing, shattered, and whispering his name like a prayer.

And only then—when she could barely breathe—did he finally untie her, hold her against his chest, and kiss her temple like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“I will always protect you,” he whispered. “Even from yourself.”

[End of Chapter Four]

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