Page 133 of Fierce Pursuit

An empty threat. She didn’t need to know that.

Her teeth clenched, her body trembling with the effort to resist. I was ready to push her down, to take my frustration out on her body until she learned.

Then she broke.

"I like it." The words cracked in her throat, tears streaking down her flushed cheeks. "I shouldn’t like it. This is wrong. I should hate this, but I like it. I want?—"

I grabbed her jaw and wrenched her head to the side, crushing my mouth to hers, swallowing the rest of her words.

It was the only way I could tell her I understood.

Not the shame. Not the guilt. Fuck that.

But the need. The overwhelming, consuming force between us. Something raw, something dark, something deeper than I ever thought possible.

My fingers worked her clit in tight, punishing circles. My thrusts turned brutal, relentless. I was close, my balls tight, my body strung so hard I was about to snap.

Her body betrayed her completely, her ass gripping my cock, her legs trembling, a desperate whimper caught in her throat.

"Come for me,wife," I growled against her lips.

Her entire body tightened, her lips parted in a silent scream as she shattered around me.

I followed, burying myself deep, filling her, marking her.

There was something profoundly satisfying in knowing my wife could come on my command. Almost as satisfying as knowing that both her cunt and her ass were now mine.

A wave of exhaustion hit me, the kind that settled deep in my bones. The last few days had drained me—too little rest, too much tension—but more than that, it was her. The relentless fight, the emotional war she waged against me, and now, this. Taking her. Owning her.

We didn’t speak as I cleaned her up, carefully wiping her body, then draining the tub. I wrapped her in a thick towel and sat her on the edge of the counter where she slumped against the wall, her eyes half-lidded, her lips parted as I started the shower.

She was spent. Raw. Broken open in more ways than one.

I stepped into the shower, holding her, washing away the evidence of our fight, the sex, the claim I’d just sealed. Then I lifted her into my arms and carried her back to the bed.

She didn’t resist.

She simply curled into me, her body fitting against mine as if she had always belonged there.

Tears still streamed silently down her face.

I understood. Today had been too much.

The kidnapping, the chase, the battle of wills. Then theintense, soul-wrenching sex that left her undone. She was feeling it now, the aftermath. Probably something close to a sub-drop, her body crashing after the overwhelming high.

I had taken her apart.

Now I would prove that I was the man who would always put her back together.

I held her close, my fingers threading through her damp hair, grounding her.

“Tomorrow, all of this will be over,” I murmured. “When I give you my name, you will be safe. No one will dare harm the wife of an Ivanov.”

A beat of silence. Then, softly, barely more than a whisper…

“Veronika had your name.”

The words were quiet but sharp, cutting into the moment like a blade.

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