Or at least I thought it did.

I couldn’t tell, not really.

The tension was coming off him in waves, making me nearly sick with nerves.

I didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like I had done anything. So why would he be mad at me?

Why did I care?

The idea of me being upset because he was upset with me…

It left me disgusted, and by the time we reached the elevator, my anger was at full boil, even more so because he was behind me but hadn’t said another word.

“Do you have a way back to your apartment?” I asked when I got to the front door.

“I am my at apartment,” he responded.

Then he punched in the key code, one that I definitely hadn’t given him after I’d changed it.

He opened the door and then stood, his silent command that I enter impossible to miss.

I glared at him, not that it did any good since I walked right inside.

“Elias—”

He cut me off. “Shut the fuck up,” he said.

Before I could protest, he kissed me.

But it was no seduction.

It was a command.

He kissed me like he wanted to devour me, and even though some small part of my brain said that I should protest, that we needed to talk about this, more than anything, I wanted to let him.

“Oh no!” I said when he ripped the beautiful dress that I had gotten just that day.

When I looked into his eyes, dark, deep within emotion I couldn’t identify, I realized he didn’t care.

He stripped me down and then did the same for himself.

I knew of his strength but still was shocked when he lifted me and sat me on the counter.

Then he gripped my thighs, digging his fingers into my flesh, his hold just this side of punishing.

I looked down between us, saw his cock, hard, unyielding, angry—just like its owner.

And before I could even form a thought, he was inside me, his thickness forcing my pussy to yield, open up, and accept him.

Then he started thrusting, drilling into me relentlessly.

It didn’t take long until I felt myself coming, the orgasm pulled from me at his demand.

He felt it too.

I saw that in the satisfied smirk on his face, one that was gone in an instant.

“You came for me,” he said, his words definitely not a question, the hard, sharp thrusts punctuating his words. “You came because I wanted you to. Because I demanded it. And I want it again,” he said.

I hadn’t thought it was possible, but he redoubled his efforts, started thrusting harder, and then harder still.

Wrenching another climax from my body before my mind caught up.

Giving in to him like this, the way my body responded to his command, filled me with a mix of shame, embarrassment, and euphoria.