Inside the brownstone, the front door barely latched behind us before he was trailing kisses down my neck, his hands roaming with that same possessive hunger. Every step towards his bedroom felt electric, my body burning in anticipation. By the time the bedroom door closed behind us, I was already trembling beneath him, knowing there was no escaping the night he had planned for us.
Felix pressed me against the closed door, his hips grinding into mine. His lips trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down my jawline and neck, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. His scent mingled with mine, musky and addictive, driving me wild. I arched into him, unable to get close enough, my body craving the contact.
“I can’t get you out of my head,” he growled, teeth grazing my earlobe. “I’m going to show you who you belong to.”
He pulled away just enough to slip off his jacket and toss it carelessly onto a nearby chair before getting back to work on unbuttoning his shirt. I watched as each button popped open under his nimble fingers, revealing more of his broad chestcovered in soft black hair that begged for my touch. The smell of his skin—a mix of sweat and soap—filled my senses, making me dizzy with want.
My fingers fumbled with the hem of my dress, trying to mimic his movements, but he caught them effortlessly, trapping my hands. “Don’t,” he said, his lips brushing mine with a dangerous heat. “I’ll take care of you.”
Felix's hands trailed over every inch of my exposed skin as he undressed me slowly, savoring each gasp and moan that escaped my mouth. Every caress sent electric shocks straight to my core, making my lower half clench in anticipation of what was yet to come.
Finally naked, I stood there shaking as he pulled back to admire his handiwork—his dark eyes roaming over every inch of me, hunger and ownership written across his face. Then, without a word, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the bed, his grip firm and unyielding.
The mattress dipped under us the moment he pushed me down, his body pressing into mine as if he couldn’t bear a single inch of distance. His lips found mine again, rough and claiming, while his hands roamed over me with that same possessive hunger. I arched into him, breathless and trembling, utterly lost in the way he made me feel.
My legs wrapped around his waist as Felix positioned himself between my thighs, teasing me with the head of his cock before plunging into me with a growl. The room seemed to spin as Felix thrust into me, filling me up perfectly, claiming me as his own. Each of his powerful strokes sent sparks of pleasure through me, and I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper. We moved together in a rhythm that was both brutal and beautiful—a dance that spoke of ownership and desire. Sweat trickled down my back as he picked up speed, driving into me harder, faster, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through me.
His thrusts were rough but perfectly timed, hitting my sweet spot each time as he drove us both to the edge. Arching my hips up to meet him, I cried out his name, a plea for more as the world spun around us. It was hard and demanding, taking what he wanted with no pretense of gentleness. My nails dug into his back, leaving shallow welts as I tried to match his intensity.
And then it was too much—too good—and I was crying out his name yet again as I came apart beneath him. My nails bit into his skin, leaving marks that would remain as reminders of this moment.
“Fuck,” Felix muttered, and I could feel his pace start to lose rhythm as he followed me over the edge. His hips stuttered as he found his own release, filling me with hot ropes of come.
We collapsed together, panting, our bodies sticky and sated. Felix's hands ran through my hair, his touch gentle for once. "You're mine," he whispered against my neck, like it was a promise—an order—a statement of fact.
Even as I trembled in the aftershocks of him, his lips stayed at my skin, voice dropping lower, rougher. “I told you,” he murmured, teeth grazing the shell of my ear. “I said we’d be up all night… and I meant it.”
I shivered, heat still pooling, every nerve alert to his touch. The fire between us hadn’t faded—it hummed beneath the surface, quiet for now, but very much alive. I melted against him, chest to chest, letting his possessiveness wrap around me like a claim, knowing with absolute certainty that he would follow through, in every way, every moment, until the sun rose again.
Chapter 19
Iwatched Tessa as she slept, every line of her face softened in the dim light of the bedroom. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, hair splayed across the pillow, skin glowing faintly in the shadows. I couldn’t look away.
There was something unbearably fragile about her like this—untouched by the cruel world, unaware of me watching—and it twisted something in my chest, sharp and relentless. I wanted to reach out, to trace her cheek, to make her feel what she’d already done to me, but I held back, letting myself memorize her instead.
Last night replayed in my mind in every detail—the way she had trembled under me, the soft cries of my name, the way her body had ached for my touch. I could still feel her, hot and pliant beneath me, every inch of her belonging to me in ways she didn’t yet realize. The memory both inflamed and haunted me, a reminder that I was consumed by her, even when I wasn’t touching her.
And for the first time, I hadn’t used a condom. I wasn’t sure why I had forgone one; I had plenty in my nightstand drawer. But when I had seen her—vulnerable, trembling beneath me,lips parted, eyes wide with need—it had felt impossible to stop. Impossible to think of anything but her, impossible to hold back.
When I had sunk inside of her, it was pure perfection. Every inch of her had felt like it was meant for me, every shiver, every gasp, every shudder confirming what I already knew—I was ruined for anyone else. No one else could touch me like that, make me feel like that, claim me like she had.
Part of me wanted to stay here, simply beside her, to watch her sleep in the quiet of the room, but that wasn’t me. I didn’t know how to be soft, how to exist outside control, outside the rules and ruthlessness that defined me. My hands itched to claim, my mind raced with hunger and plans and possessiveness. I wanted to be gentle for her, to hold her without expectation—but every fiber of me screamed ownership, dominance, obsession.
So I stayed silent, trapped in the ache of her nearness, my thoughts tangled in the memory of last night and the impossibility of being what she deserved. And maybe that was as close to tenderness as I could manage—watching her, protecting her, craving her, consumed by her, and knowing I would never be able to let her go.
My hand drifted over the edge of the covers, brushing along the soft fabric where I’d fucked her, and I froze for a moment, thumb tracing an absent line as if memorizing her shape all over again. Every part of me wanted to stay, to claim her, to feel her body against mine again, but another part of me hesitated, wary of crossing a line I couldn’t define.
A flicker of guilt passed through me, sharp and unwelcome.I took her for selfish reasons… my control… and now I don’t know why I want to stay. Or what I want from her. Or how to ask for it.
What would happen if, by some miracle, her father managed to pay the debt back? The thought made my chest tighten, my jaw clench. I would have to give her back. She would have to slipback into that life—endless hours at a dead-end job, cleaning up after a drunk who’d never appreciate her, scraping by while the world chewed her up and spit her out.
I exhaled slowly, letting the weight of it settle. My thoughts were tangled, a mess of obsession, instinct, and something I didn’t recognize. And still, I stayed, watching her sleep, memorizing her, unable to pull myself away, unsure if I should.
I leaned down, my hand cupping her cheek just enough so she didn’t wake, thumb brushing lightly over her skin. My lips met hers in a gentle, fleeting kiss—soft, reverent, but carrying a quiet insistence, a reminder that she was mine.
The room stayed still, but the weight of that moment lingered. Tender, consuming, and quietly claiming, as if in the silence I could tell her everything without saying a word.
I dressed slowly, letting the quiet stretch between us. Every movement felt deliberate, measured, as if I could linger in that small, intimate space a fraction longer. My eyes flicked back to her, taking in the curve of her shoulder, the way her hair fanned across the pillow.
