**Chapter Four**
Adrian came home late that night. The penthouse door opened with a heavy click that made my stomach tighten. I was waiting in the living room like always, wearing the black lace lingerie I had bought with his card. My heart was racing, but not with the usual excitement. I had made up my mind. This was going to be the last night. I couldn’t take the pain anymore. The engagement, the cruel words in his office, my mother slipping away while I lived in this golden cage. I was done.
I stood up as he walked in. “Adrian, we need to talk about—”
He didn’t let me finish. In two long steps he was on me. His big hand grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me into a punishing kiss. It wasn’t soft or loving. It was rough, demanding, almost angry. His mouth crushed mine, his tongue pushing inside like he owned every breath I took. I tried to pull back to speak, but he held me tighter. His other hand gripped my waist hard enough to leave marks.
“No talking,” he growled against my lips. “Not tonight.”
Before I could say anything else, he lifted me off the floor like I weighed nothing. My legs wrapped around him on instinct. He carried me straight to the bedroom and threw me down on the big bed. The silk sheets felt cool against my hot skin. I looked up at him, chest rising and falling fast. Part of me wanted to scream everything—about Isabella, about how much I loved him, about how I was leaving. But another part, the bigger part tonight, just wanted to feel him one last time. Really feel him. So I stayed quiet.
Adrian stood over me and stripped off his suit jacket. His eyes were dark and intense. “You belong to me, Elena. Don’t ever forget that.” He loosened his tie and dropped it. Then his shirt came off, showing the hard muscles I knew so well. “You signed the contract. You live in my house. You take my money. You spread your legs when I say.”
He climbed on top of me and kissed me again, even harder. His hand moved down and ripped the lace panties off my body in one strong pull. I gasped, but he didn’t stop. His fingers pushed between my legs, finding me already wet. He always made me wet, even when my heart was breaking.
“This pussy is mine,” he said roughly, sliding two thick fingers inside me. “Say it.”
“It’s yours,” I whispered. My voice shook, but I meant it in that moment. Because tonight I was taking everything he gave. One last time.
He didn’t go slow. He pulled his fingers out and freed his cock. It was hard and heavy as he rubbed it against my entrance. Then he thrust in deep with one powerful stroke. I cried out, my back arching off the bed. He filled me completely, stretching me in that way only he could. It hurt a little, but the pain mixed with pleasure and made my head spin.
Adrian fucked me hard. His hips slammed against mine again and again. The sound of our bodies hitting together filled the room. He held my wrists above my head with one hand while the other gripped my hip, pulling me onto him with every thrust.
“You. Are. Mine.” He said each word with a deep push. “No one else gets this. No one else sees you like this. Understand?”
I nodded, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. Not from pain, but from everything I couldn’t say. I loved him so much it hurt worse than his rough hands. But I had decided. After tonight, I would leave. I would find another way for Mom. I couldn’t keep breaking my heart every day.
He flipped me over suddenly, pulling my hips up so I was on my knees. He entered me from behind, even deeper now. His hand came down in a sharp smack on my ass. I moaned loud, pushing back against him. He did it again, then grabbed my hair and pulled my head back.
“Take it,” he growled. “Take everything I give you.”
I did. I pushed back against every hard thrust. My body shook with pleasure as he fucked me like he was trying to remind me who I belonged to. I came hard the first time, crying out his name, my walls squeezing around him. He didn’t stop. He kept going, rough and fast, until I came again.
The night stretched on like that. He took me in every way he wanted. On the bed. Against the big window with the city lights below us. In the shower where the hot water ran over our bodies while he lifted one of my legs and drove into me. He came inside me the first time, groaning my name. Then after a short break where he just held me down and kissed me hard, he got hard again and took me on the floor.
Every time I tried to speak, he kissed me quiet or put his fingers in my mouth. “No words,” he would say. “Just feel who owns you.”
I let him. I received everything because this was goodbye in my heart. I touched his back, his chest, his face when he let me. I memorized the way his muscles moved, the way he smelled, the low sounds he made when he was deep inside me. I wanted to remember every second. Because tomorrow I would pack my things and walk away from this life. From him.
Hours passed. The sky outside started to turn gray with morning light. We had sex again and again. Sometimes slow and deep, sometimes fast and punishing. He reminded me over and over.
“You belong here. In my bed. Under me. Say it.”
“I belong to you,” I said each time, even as my heart whispered *not anymore*.
I came so many times I lost count. My body was sore and tired, but I still pulled him closer. I kissed him back with everything I had. Tears mixed with sweat on my face. He tasted them but didn’t ask why. He never asked. That was the contract. No personal things. No real feelings.
At one point, near dawn, we lay tangled on the bed. He was still inside me, moving slow and lazy now. His hand stroked my hair almost gently. For a second I pretended this was real love. That he cared. That there was no Isabella waiting for him in the real world.
But I knew better.
When he finally pulled out and rolled onto his back, breathing heavy, I curled against his side. My body ached in the best and worst ways. I felt full of him, marked by him, used by him. And I loved it. That was the sad part. Even knowing I had to leave, I still loved him.
Adrian’s hand rested heavy on my hip. “Good girl,” he said quietly. “You remembered your place tonight.”
I didn’t answer. I just closed my eyes and listened to his heartbeat. Strong. Steady. The same heartbeat I had fallen in love with. Soon the sun would come up. He would go to work. And I would start packing.
But for these last quiet minutes, I stayed. Feeling him. Holding on to the pain and the pleasure together. This was the end of my time as Elena Voss, the mistress. I would find strength for Mom another way. Maybe get a second job again. Maybe ask for help from old friends. Anything but this slow death of my heart.
Adrian fell asleep first. I lay awake, watching the light grow outside the windows. My mind was made up. I would leave a note. Nothing dramatic. Just that I couldn’t do it anymore. That the contract was broken in my heart even if it wasn’t on paper.
I touched his arm one last time. “Goodbye,” I whispered so softly he couldn’t hear.
The night had been long and rough and full of him. Exactly what I needed for the last time. Now I had to be strong enough to walk away from the only man I had ever loved.
