Jane met Ross that night at the same luxurious suite where it all began.
The moment the door clicked shut behind her, reality seemed to shift.
He didn't speak—not at first. He only stared at her, his eyes burning with hunger.
Jane stood frozen, breath shallow, her heart pounding with anticipation.
She knew she shouldn't be here. She knew what she was risking.
And yet, none of that mattered.
All that mattered was him.
Ross crossed the room in two long strides and seized her lips with his, kissing her deeply, hungrily, as if the days apart had been unbearable torment.
Their clothes disappeared in a blur of movement, urgency overtaking restraint, and within moments, he had her pinned beneath him once more.
What followed could hardly be called lovemaking—it was worship and domination intertwined.
Ross fucked her like a man on a mission, pushing her body past its limits again and again.
