Alejandro sneered as he looked down at his phone, the endless stream of texts from his girlfriend lighting up the screen. Each desperate word she sent after their argument should have satisfied his ego, but instead, it only irritated him. He expected her to grovel, to throw herself at his feet, begging for his attention and forgiveness.

But it wasn’t her kneeling before him now.

It was you.

The glow of the lamp caught on the delicate pink collar snug around your throat, the little charm on it jingling softly whenever you shifted. You stayed perfectly in place, lashes lowered and fluttering as if every movement of his hand, every flick of the leash wrapped securely in his grip, dictated your very breath.

Alejandro’s smirk deepened, dark amusement sparking in his eyes as he tilted his phone away and let it drop onto the table beside him. None of her pleading words mattered—not when he had you.

“Mi bombón…” he murmured, his voice low and intoxicating as he gave your leash a sharp tug, pulling you closer until you were forced to look up at him.

His finger slid under your chin, tilting your head with deliberate slowness, savoring the way your lips parted in anticipation. That small, dangerous smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he drank in your obedience, the picture of submission at his feet.