Page 23 of Bound in Possession

I tilt my chin up, meeting his fierce gaze in the mirror. "If you want it gone, you'll have to remove it yourself."

I expect him to bark a command. Instead, he strides forward with lethal purpose. Within a second, he corners me against the marble bathroom counter, his massive, imposing frame completely trapping me. I let out a sharp gasp as the cold stone presses into my lower back and his heat radiates against my front.

Before I can even blink, his large hand wraps firmly around the front of my throat. The pressure isn't enough to choke me, but it's authoritative, anchoring me in place.

"I won't ruin your makeup with a kiss, princess," he murmurs, his dark voice a gravelly vibration against my skin.

But as his eyes lock onto mine, his free hand slips down, disappearing beneath the high slit of my gown. I freeze, my breath catching in my chest as his fingers glide up my thigh, finding the edge of my lace panties and deliberately pushing them aside.

A surge of panic and desire wars inside me. I want to scream at him, to push his solid chest away and demand that he stop, but before the words can form, his fingers sink deeply inside me.

A ragged, helpless moan slips from my lips, and my knees instantly go weak. I turn into putty beneath his touch. He begins to move his fingers, pumping them into my aching warmth with a slow, agonizing rhythm that drives me absolutely crazy. My fingers dig into the edge of the marble counter just to stay upright.

Maksim leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, his hot breath sending shivers racing down my spine while his hand continues its relentless, possessive rhythm.

"Very soon, Camilla," he whispers darkly, his touch driving me closer and closer to the edge, "you’ll be wearing my own name on your neck. You belong to the Sokolov family now."

I gasp, my head falling back against his shoulder as the sheer intensity of his words and his touch completely consume me. He keeps moving inside me, deep and unyielding, turning my resistance into pure, breathless surrender.

The friction is making my mind entirely hazy, the pleasure building into a tight, unbearable coil deep in my stomach.

Suddenly, Maksim slows his pace, his fingers still inside my soaking heat. He leans down, his dark gaze locking onto mine in the mirror.

"Do you want me to keep going, princess?" he murmurs, his voice rough and laced with dark satisfaction. "Tell me you want me to finish you."

Pride and fear war with the desire blinding me. I can't let him win this easily. I swallow hard, forcing a cold mask back onto my face, and lie straight to him. "No."

To my absolute shock, he pulls his hand completely away.

The sudden emptiness leaves me cold and aching, a silent gasp escaping my lips. I frantically try to hide the crushing disappointment that washes over me but then he slides his finger into his mouth, and runs his tongue over the it. I watch, transfixed as he nods with satisfaction and turns to the door.

He looks at me one last time, completely unbothered by the storm he just created inside me. "Meet me downstairs in ten minutes," he commands smoothly, turning on his heel and walking out of the bathroom.

I lean heavily against the marble counter, my legs shaking so badly I can barely stand. It takes me several minutes just to gain back my breath, my hands trembling as I fix my underwear and smooth down the fabric of my dress, trying to calm my frantic heart.

When I finally walk back out into the bedroom, my eyes land on the nightstand on Maksim's side of the bed. I know what he keeps in there. I've watched him casually toss his weapons into the bedside drawer before.

Moved by a sudden, desperate urge for control, I walk over and pull the drawer open. Inside, resting alongside a spare firearm, are several knives. One of them catches my eye—a sleek, wicked blade encased in a slim, secure sheath.

I grab it. My heart hammers against my ribs as I carefully tuck the sheathed knife against my inner thigh, securing it tightly beneath the hidden layers of my form-fitting dress. I am not particularly good with a knife, but after the shootout at the auction and the car chase this afternoon, I refuse to be completely defenseless again. If the monsters come for me, I want to be able to fight back.

Steeling my expression, I take one last look in the mirror, check that the weapon is completely hidden, and leave the room to go meet Maksim downstairs.

He is waiting for me at the bottom of the grand staircase, looking every bit the ruthless Pakhan he is. As soon as his eyes lock onto me, they darken, tracing the sharp silhouette of the gown.

"You look breathtaking, Camilla," he says, his voice low and smooth, like he didn’t just undo me upstairs.

"Thank you," I reply, keeping my tone perfectly measured, refusing to let him see that my body is still vibrating from what happened in the bathroom.

Without another word, he offers his arm and leads us outside toward the waiting convoy. The evening air is crisp, and the driveway is lined with heavily armored black SUVs.

Before we can even reach our car, Dmitri appears from the shadows of the courtyard. His expression is tight as he steps up and whispers something urgently into Maksim's ear. Maksim’s jaw tightens instantly, his entire posture hardening.

He turns to me. "Give me a minute, princess."

He walks briskly away with Dmitri , the two of them stepping into the alcove near the garage to speak privately.

Left standing by the vehicles, I don't just wait around. I pretend to wander aimlessly, smoothing down my dress and looking at the night sky as if I'm just a bored, pampered captive waiting for her fiancé. But beneath the facade, my mind is working at a hyper-frenetic pace.