SEVEN
Seven expected to end up in Sloane's dungeon.
Hell, part of her wanted to.
But instead Sloane leads her upstairs, hand on her lower back, silent, steady, into a room that feels nothing like the polished severity downstairs.
Warm lighting. Dark sheets. Soft shadows.
Seven stands just inside the doorway, pulse hammering.
"You're disappointed," Sloane says, stepping past her to turn on a single lamp, low amber, intimate.
Seven scoffs. "Who said that?"
"You don't have to." Sloane glances back at her, eyes catching the light. "You wear everything on your body."
Seven hates how true that feels.
Sloane moves closer, slow, intentional. "You think I'd take you downstairs without a written agreement? Without establishing limits?" She lifts Seven's chin with two fingers. "You're reckless. I can't be."
Seven's breath catches. "So what now?"
Sloane's thumb grazes her jaw. "Now I teach you patience."
Seven exhales shakily. "Not my best quality."
"I'm aware," Sloane murmurs. "That's why we're starting here."
She circles behind Seven, fingers brushing her hips, her waist, her back, never quite enough pressure, never quite enough contact. Seven arches involuntarily, craving more.
Sloane's voice is a soft command behind her ear.
"Take off your shoes."
Seven obeys before she can think.
Sloane notices that too.
"See?" Her tone is infuriatingly calm. "You follow better than you pretend."
Seven bristles, a flush rising. "I'm not—"
"You are," Sloane cuts in, stepping close again. "And that's why this will work."
Her hands skim up Seven's arms, light enough to frustrate, firm enough to promise more. Seven shivers.
Sloane leans in, lips grazing but not giving, pulling a gasp from her that feels humiliating and addictive all at once.
"You think you can tease me in my own club?" Sloane murmurs. "You think you can have someone else's hands on your body and not answer for it?"
Seven tries to close the distance.
Sloane pulls back a fraction.
Seven freezes.
Burns.
"Not yet," Sloane says softly. "You'll get what you want when you're patient." Her finger drags slowly down Seven's sternum, stopping just above the fabric of her shirt. "And when you earn it."
Seven's voice is barely a whisper. "You're doing this on purpose."
"Of course," Sloane breathes, stepping close enough for heat but not relief. "You wanted punishment." She tilts Seven's chin up. "I'm giving you denial."
Seven swallows, thighs pressed together. "I'm going to hate you."
"You already don't," Sloane says, eyes steady. "And that's what really scares you."
She kisses her then, slow, deep, only to pull away right when Seven leans in hardest.
A low, frustrated sound escapes her.
Sloane smiles like she just won a game she invented.
-
SLOANE
Sloane steps back just enough for the air to cool between them.
