[Noah's POV]

She looked thoroughly wrecked.

I watched Elena pull her oversized shirt back into place, her fingers trembling so badly she fumbled the hem twice.

Her lips were swollen, bitten red from suppressing her moans. Her eyes were hazy, glazed with a mixture of unspent desire and humiliation.

I felt a dark, twisted satisfaction coil in my gut.

Minutes ago, she was trying to outsmart me, concocting flimsy lies about "artistic inspiration." Now? She looked like exactly what she was: mine.

I ...