I whimper as he withdraws, grips my hips, and pounds into me so hard my insides feel like they are on fire. Delicious sweet torture. We move harder and faster until I can feel my orgasm building to the strength of a nuclear bomb fueled by untamed passion.
The orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, drowning me in sensation so intense that I forget how to breathe. I shatter beneath him, around him, my inner walls clenching so tight that he groans and follows me over the edge with a final, desperate thrust.
I feel him pulse inside me, hot and thick, filling me with his release as he buries his face in my neck and breathes my name like it is the only word he knows.
“Mine.”
His.
Am I his?
Am I not? He owns me. But what exactly does that mean?
“Am I?”
“Mine and only mine. No other man will ever touch or possess your beauty, Persia. No one but me.”
His words drip with finality, and I can’t find it in me to fight them.
We lie there tangled together, hearts pounding in syncopated rhythm, sweat cooling on skin that still trembles withaftershocks. I have never felt so completely possessed by another person, so thoroughly claimed in a way that goes beyond the physical.
I am his now. For better or worse, in sickness and in health, until death or the expiration of our contract do us part.
My eyes burn with the realization of that truth. And somewhere in the wreckage of my defenses, I find that I do not mind as much as I should.
Rafael
She is crying.
Soft, silent tears that slip down her temples and disappear into the violet silk of her hair, and the sight of them carves something jagged and raw through my chest.
“Did I hurt you?” I pull back immediately, searching her face for signs of damage, of regret, of anything that would tell me I have broken this magnificent creature beyond repair. “Persia, talk to me, little dove. Did I?—”
“No.” Her laugh is watery, hiccupping, the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. “No, you did not hurt me. I do not know why I am crying. I just feel... everything. Too much. Like my heart cannot contain it all and my brain can’t catch up."
I understand what she means more than she knows. I have spent decades building walls around myself, fortifying the fortress ofmy heart against anyone who might try to breach it. And this woman, this fierce little dove who signed her life over to me with trembling fingers and fire in her eyes, has somehow found her way past every defense I have.
I am in trouble. Deep, devastating trouble that no amount of power or money or violence can protect me from.
I press my lips to her forehead and taste the salt of her tears. “Stay here. I will be right back.”
The bathroom is larger than most people's apartments, all marble and gold fixtures and a tub big enough to swim in. I turn on the water and add the bath oils that appeared in the cabinet a week ago. I light a few candles, too. All Marta's doing, no doubt. The woman most likely anticipated this night long before I admitted to myself that it was inevitable.
Steam rises from the water as I return to the bedroom and scoop Persia into my arms. She makes a sound of protest that dies when I carry her into the bathroom and lower her gently into the warmth.
“Oh.” The word is a sigh of pure pleasure as the heat envelops her. “This is... this is nice.”
I climb in behind her, settling her back against my chest and wrapping my arms around her waist. She fits perfectly in the cradle of my body, like she was made to occupy this exact space.
“I have something for you.” I reach for the small velvet box I placed on the edge of the tub earlier and tucked under the edge of a hand towel. “Close your eyes.”
She obeys without question, a level of trust that humbles me more than any display of power ever could. I open the boxand remove the ring inside, a flawless diamond surrounded by smaller sapphires that match the aqua of her eyes, set in platinum that gleams in the soft overhead light and the candles.
I take her left hand and slide the ring onto her finger.
Her eyes fly open and she stares at the jewel sparkling on her hand, her breath catching in her throat. “Rafael…”
“You signed a contract.” I press my lips to the curve of her shoulder, tasting the rose-scented bath oil on her skin. “But I wanted you to have something more. Something that marks you as mine in a way that everyone can see.”
