When he broke the kiss, I reached up, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Kholod Morozov, if you want me this bad, then fuck me harder."
He froze for a split second, eyes widening, then surged back with manic fury, pounding into me like a tempest unleashed.
I met him thrust for thrust, rolling my hips to match his rhythm, chasing the blistering high. Pleasure built relentlessly, overwhelming everything, and I screamed for more—"Harder, Kholod! Don't stop!"—letting it consume me. No point in resisting; I'd sink into it, own the chaos, revel in the surrender on my own terms.
He growled low, his hands roaming possessively—pinching my nipples until they throbbed, slapping my ass as he drove deeper, the sofa creaking under the force. Sweat slicked our skin, his breath scorching my neck as he bit down again, marking me fresh. I clawed at his back, nails raking red lines, urging him on. The initial pain twisted into something electric, every rough grab and slap of flesh making me clench tighter, grow wetter.
"Is this what you need?" he rasped, flipping me onto my stomach without withdrawing, yanking my hips up to take me from behind. His fingers tangled in my hair, pulling my head back as he slammed in, the new angle hitting spots that made stars explode behind my eyes. I pushed back against him, moaning loudly, the sound bouncing off the soundproof walls.
"Yes—fuck, yes!" I cried, no holding back now. My body trembled,racing toward the edge, his cock filling me utterly, stretching me with each punishing stroke. He reached around, his fingers finding my clit, rubbing firm circles that left me gasping, the dual assault shoving me higher.
"You're mine," he snarled, thrusting so hard it shook me to my core. "Say it—no one else gets this."
"Yours," I gasped, not thinking, just feeling the wave crest. But deep down, that twisted thrill surged: I was using him too, turning his rage into my ecstasy, wielding the pleasure like a blade.
He ramped up the pace, relentless, one hand spanning my waist to hold me steady, the other teasing my breasts, rolling my nipples until they ached with delicious torment. I felt him thicken inside me, teetering on the brink, but he held back, prolonging it, making me beg.
"Please—Kholod, more!" My voice cracked, body arching as orgasm tore through me, clenching around him in shuddering waves. He followed seconds later, groaning deeply as he spilled into me, hips jerking with raw force.
We collapsed in a heap, breaths ragged, his weight pressing me into the cushions. But even in the afterglow, that dark edge persisted—I'd surrendered, but on my terms, stealing a sliver of control amid the storm.
He pulled out slowly, leaving me empty and sore, yet strangely sated. Rolling me over, he pinned me with a possessive stare. "Don't think this changes anything."
I smirked through the haze. "Oh, it does." Because now I knew: his jealousy was my leverage. If he wanted to own me, I'd make him earn it, every brutal inch.
The room hung heavy with our mingled scents, the air thick with the aftermath. My asthma stayed at bay, but my pulse thundered, alive in a way I'd never known. Kholod traced the tattoo again, gentler this time, like an undeniable claim. I didn't pull away; I leaned into it, letting the heat linger.
We weren't done—not even close. He dragged me up, kissing me again, slower but no less fierce, hands mapping every curve like theywere his territory. I bit back, our bodies pressing close. Round two ignited fast, his fingers dipping between my thighs, finding me still slick and ready.
"Fuck, you're insatiable," he muttered, hunger replacing anger.
"Only for you," I whispered, half-truth, half-taunt, as he pushed me back down, spreading my legs wide. He entered me again, slower at first, building a deliberate rhythm, each thrust drawing out moans I couldn't stifle.
The earlier pain melted into pure bliss, my nails digging into his shoulders as he rocked deeper, hitting that perfect spot repeatedly. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping onto me, mingling with mine. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer, our breaths syncing in the dim light.
"Tell me you want this," he demanded, voice rough, hips grinding slow and hard.
"I want it—fuck, I need it," I admitted, the words tumbling free as pleasure coiled tight once more.
He grinned darkly, accelerating, one hand bracing on the sofa arm for leverage, the other stroking my clit with firm precision. I shattered first, crying out his name, body convulsing around him. He chased his release, thrusts turning erratic, finally burying himself deep with a guttural moan.
Exhaustion washed over us, but satisfaction hummed like a dangerous high. In this sealed prison, I'd rewritten the script—from victim to willing tempest. Kholod might believe he owned me, but I'd just carved out a piece of him too.
We lay tangled, his heartbeat pounding against mine. For a fleeting moment, silence reigned, broken only by our slowing breaths. Then he shifted, pulling me close, almost tender. But I knew the truth: this was merely the calm before the next storm. More fury awaited, and I'd face it head-on, reveling in the wreckage.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kholod
I turned off the shower, water droplets falling from my fingertips. Noelle slumped against me, eyes closed, lashes still damp with water. Her whole body was limp and helpless—without my support, she would have collapsed to the floor.
Wet hair clung to her flushed cheeks, her skin still flushed from passion, covered in red marks—neck, shoulders, chest, waist... all my doing.
Damn. I'd thought I'd feel satisfied after venting, that I'd enjoy the revenge. But all that remained in my chest was a hollow emptiness, as if I'd lost something precious.
"Noelle?" I called softly.
No response. I lifted her chin. Her eyes remained closed, breathing steady—she'd fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion.
