Wickedly Yours

Part 28

After the peaceful ride through Central Park, you and Lucius return to the luxury of his Manhattan apartment. The chilly air outside made the warmth inside feel even cozier, but a strange tension lingers in the air, as it always does when you and Lucius are alone for too long.

"I'm going to take a nap," you announce casually, draping your red cloak over the back of a chair as you head toward your bedroom. "The time difference is a killer."

Lucius glances at you, his expression unreadable but calm. "Very well," he replies, his tone even. "But don't lock your door."

You pause, your hand on the doorframe, and glance back at him. There's something about the way he says it that feels like a subtle attempt to maintain control, to remind you that in his home, privacy is a privilege, not a right. You raise an eyebrow, a small smirk curling at the edges of your lips as you reply, "I have to lock it. For privacy. I'm nearly a grown witch, after all."

There's a hidden meaning behind your words, a gentle provocation, insinuating that anything could be happening behind the closed door if he dared to let you have it. It's a challenge, one you know Lucius will rise to.

His pale blue eyes narrow slightly, his gaze sharp as it flickers over you. "I don't see why you would need to lock your door in my home."

You shrug, pushing the line just a bit further. "Maybe because I like my space. Maybe because I'm a grown witch now, and things... happen behind closed doors." You let your words hang in the air, the implications clear.

Lucius's lips press into a thin line, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. "You may be nearly of age," he says slowly, his voice carefully measured, "but that doesn't mean you get to do as you please in my home. There are expectations, Beatrix. And if you want my respect, you will meet them."

You shake your head definitely, "So what happens when you walk in on me changing or gods forbid I'm sleeping naked. What then?" you demand.

Lucius's jaw clenches visibly, his cool composure fraying at the edges as your words land with deliberate precision, testing his patience. His eyes narrow, the icy blue darkening with controlled frustration. "You can wear proper sleeping attire while you are here, and I do not burst into your room. I always knock, Beatrix." His voice is calm, but you can hear the undercurrent of tension.

You tilt your head, biting back a smirk. "So, where am I supposed to masturbate? The bathroom? I need guaranteed privacy, Father."

The silence that follows is thick, and for a moment, you wonder if you've gone too far. His face is unreadable, but you know him well enough to sense the storm brewing behind his calm facade. He inhales slowly, visibly reining in his temper. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, measured, and tinged with irritation. "This is not a discussion I will entertain, Beatrix."

"But it's a legitimate concern," you press, your tone both playful and defiant. "I need my space. My privacy. I'm not a child anymore."

Lucius steps closer, his tall frame looming over you, and for a brief second, you feel the weight of his presence, his power. "You may not be a child, but you are still under my roof, and you will abide by my rules. I will not tolerate this insolence."

You cross your arms, eyes gleaming with challenge. "So, what then? I lock the door, or I sleep fully dressed? What's more improper, Father?"

His lips press into a tight line, his irritation evident. "You will wear proper attire, and you will not lock the door. That is final."

You let out a soft, mocking laugh, your eyes dancing with defiance. "You just want to keep control, don't you? Can't handle the idea that I might want to make my own decisions, even about something as simple as sleeping with my door locked."