Page 98 of Branded

That’s all the permission he needs. His mouth crashes into mine with bruising force, and all the careful gentleness from earlier disappears completely. This is the Sebastian I know—possessive, demanding, taking what he wants without apology. His hands fist in my hair, yanking my head back at a painful angle so he can deepen the kiss, his tongue invading my mouth, claiming it.

“Mine,” he growls against my lips. “Say it.”

“Yours.”

He lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist, and we move toward the bed. His arms hold me tightly, and his body a solid wall of heat against mine. “You want to be owned? Then you’re going to take exactly what I give you. No complaining. No questioning. You’re going to be my good little wife and let me use this body however I want. Understand?”

“Yes.”

He lays me down on the bed and his hand comes up to wrap around my throat, squeezing just enough to restrict it, leaving me lightheaded and making every sensation more intense.

“Yes what?” he growls in my ear.

“Yes, Sir.” The words come out strangled, and I feel my pussy clench at the submission in my own voice.

“Better.” He keeps his hand on my throat while his other hand grabs the hem of my sweater, yanking it up and over my head. He lets me go, and my shirt falls to the floor, my bra following, hooks breaking in his haste, and then his mouth is on my neck, biting hard enough to mark, reminding me of our first night together.

“Your whole family is in this house,” he murmurs against my skin, his hand still around my throat. “Your father, your siblings, all sleeping under this roof. And here you are, letting me strip you naked. Letting me own you. What would they think if they knew?”

The reminder should stop me. Should get me to come to my senses.

Instead, it makes everything more intense. More forbidden. More desperately necessary.

“I don’t care,” I gasp.

“You should.” He releases my throat long enough to spin me around, then both hands go to my jeans, popping the button, yanking the zipper down. “But you don’t, because all you care about right now is this.”

He pulls my jeans and panties down in one swift motion, and I kick them off. I’m completely naked while he’s still fully dressed, the power dynamic clear and absolute.

“Spread your legs for me.”

I obey, making room for him, and knowing the wrongness of it, of being naked and waiting for my husband in this room, in my father’s house, makes heat flood through me.

He stands at the foot of the bed, looking at me sprawled there, and I see pure hunger in his eyes.

“Spread your legs wider. Show me what’s mine.”

I do, slowly, watching his expression darken as I expose myself entirely to him.

“Touch yourself. Make that pussy wet for me.”

My hand moves between my legs the way it did just the night before, fingers sliding through already slick folds, and I gasp at the contact.

“That’s it. Get yourself ready. Because I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll forget your own name. Remind you that your body belongs to me. Not to you. To me. To do whatever I want with it.”

His hands go to his belt, the sound of leather and metal loud in the quiet room, and then he’s shoving his jeans down just enough to free his cock. Thick, hard, already leaking.

He climbs onto the bed, settles between my legs and grabs both my wrists in one hand, pinning them above my head.

“Keep them there. Every time you move, I stop. Understood?”

“Yes.”

He pushes into me without warning, just raw possession. I have to bite my lip hard to keep from crying out. He’s thick, and the angle is deep, and it’s almost too much.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re so tight.”

“Please,” I gasp.