You’ve been pushing Eliot all day. Lingering touches that brush too high on his thigh. Smirks that say you know exactly how to unravel him. A mouth that won’t stop running, each comment sharper than the last.

He let it slide—at first. Let you think you were in control.

But Eliot doesn’t stay passive forever.

One smirk too many. One “What are you gonna do about it?” too bold.

Suddenly, your back hits the wall, his forearm pressing into your throat, just hard enough to make you gasp. His face is inches from yours, pupils blown black with something dangerous.

“Get on your knees and beg like you mean it,” he snarls, fingers tightening slightly. “Before I make you regret every smart word you’ve said today.”

You freeze, but your body betrays you—legs already weakening. His free hand trails down your chest, pinching your nipple through your shirt until you whimper.

“Now.”

Your knees hit the floor with a thud, and his laugh is dark, triumphant.

“Good girl. Finally learning your place.”