Page 112 of The CEO

I stand to remove my own clothing, never taking my eyes from her. She watches me with equal intensity, her gaze tracking each movement as I discard layers of my CEO armor.

“You let your emotions cloud your judgment tonight,” she observes, shifting to a more comfortable position but making no move to cover herself or retreat. “The great Damien Knox, undone by fear.”

“Not fear,” I correct, now fully naked as I return to the bed. “Rage. At the thought of losing what’s mine through your carelessness.”

I position myself between her legs, spreading her thighs with firm hands. The evidence of her arousal glistens in the dim light, belying her verbal resistance. More than four years together, and her body still responds to my dominance with predictable eagerness.

“Your judgment was compromised too,” I point out, fingers sliding through her wetness without penetrating. “Risking a critical operation because you couldn’t stand to be sidelined. Pride. Arrogance. Disregard for protocol.”

Her hips shift, seeking greater contact that I deliberately withhold. “The operation succeeded. The target is secure.”

“For now.” I circle her entrance, watching her struggle to maintain composure as pleasure builds. “But actions have consequences, Eve. In The Shadows. In our marriage. In our bed.”

Without warning, I thrust two fingers inside her, watching as her back arches in response. “You’re soaked,” I observe, voice clinical despite the fire raging through my veins. “Practically dripping for me. Does defying me turn you on this much? Knowing the punishment that follows?”

“Fuck you,” she gasps, the words lacking heat as her body clenches around my fingers.

“That’s the plan.” I withdraw completely, leaving her trembling on the edge. “But not until you acknowledge what you did. Not until you submit.”

Her eyes narrow, calculating her options with that strategic mind that makes her so valuable to The Shadows—and so dangerous when she decides to defy me. “And if I refuse?”

“Then you can spend the night aroused and unsatisfied.” I rise to my knees, my cock hard and ready between us. “Your choice, Eve. Pride or pleasure. As always.”

We stare at each other across this familiar battlefield, the power dynamic between us shifting like quicksand. In the professional arena, we function as equals—partners in both the legitimate and shadow aspects of our empire. But in our bedroom, different rules apply—rules established through years of testing boundaries, of pushing limits, of discovering exactly how much control each of us needs to surrender and maintain.

“I acknowledge that I should have consulted you before joining the operation,” she says finally, each word measured and precise. “But I don’t regret ensuring the extraction succeeded.”

I consider her carefully, recognizing the closest thing to submission I’m likely to receive. My hand wraps around my cock, stroking slowly. “Not good enough.”

“What do you want from me, Damien?” Frustration edges into her voice, her body still flushed with denied arousal. “An apology? Groveling? That’s not who we are. That’s not who you married.”

“I married a woman who understands the value of calculated risks,” I counter, my free hand returning to the apex of her thighs, teasing without satisfying. “Not one who acts on impulse when lives are at stake.”

Her breath catches as my thumb finds her clit, circling with just enough pressure to stoke the fire without granting release. “I made a judgment call based on available intelligence.”

“You made a selfish choice based on your inability to accept temporary limitations.” I lean down, lips brushing against hers as I speak. “Say it, Eve. Acknowledge the truth, and this ends.”

She trembles beneath me, caught between pride and desire. The struggle is beautiful to witness—my dangerous, brilliant wife fighting against her own nature even as her body betrays her.

“I made a mistake,” she whispers finally, the words barely audible. “I should have stayed in the vehicle. I compromised the operation and put myself at unnecessary risk.”

Victory surges through me, all the sweeter for being so rarely earned. “And?”

Her eyes flash, but she continues. “And I won’t do it again. Not while I’m carrying our child.”

“Good girl.” The praise falls from my lips as I position myself at her entrance, the head of my cock pressing against her without penetrating. “Now, your reward.”

I enter her in one powerful thrust, burying myself to the hilt as she cries out beneath me. The angle is different with her pregnancy, requiring careful adjustment to avoid putting pressure on her belly, but we’ve adapted over the months—finding positions that accommodate her changing body while satisfying our mutual need for intensity.

“Mine,”I growl, setting a punishing pace that has her clutching at my shoulders, nails digging into flesh hard enough to draw blood. “Every. Fucking. Inch. Of. You.”

Each word punctuates a thrust, driving her further up the bed until her head nearly hits the headboard. I grip her hips, holding her in place as I claim what belongs to me, reasserting the control she threatened with her earlier defiance.

“Yours,” she gasps, the admission torn from her as pleasure builds between us. “Always yours.”

The concession breaks something in me, transforming rage into something equally powerful but less destructive. My movements become more controlled, my hands gentler as they explore her body. I shift positions, rolling onto my back and bringing her with me so she straddles my hips, her belly no longer constrained.

“Show me,” I demand, hands guiding her movements as she adjusts to the new position. “Show me who you belong to.”

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