He’s insane.
He is completely insane.
As that strong thought circled in my mind, I didn’t make a move to tell Maxim that he was unhinged. No, instead, contradicting myself and surrendering to desire, I kissed him back.
If I didn’t, he’d still plow forward and force me into the bedroom without a pause. Charging toward me, he pushed me with his hard chest against my breasts. Traitors again, my nipples were hard and peaked with this instant arousal he spiked within me.
He’s crazy.
A caveman.
A controlling asshole who’d get so mad over nothing!
All of these were red flags that inspired me to fight him back. He was clearly bad news, but with his firm grip on the back of my neck as he guided me toward the bed, I was caught. Under his insistent lips that parted over mine with these drugging kisses, I was snared in wanting him.
In needing more.
Something was wrong with me to lust for him when he was like this, but I couldn’t deny how he stoked my body into craving him. I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t want him regardless of how ridiculously over the top he was about coming home and finding me near that cook.
“Do you want to bet?” he growled once he wrenched his mouth off mine.
The backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed. He’d thrown me off, making out with me so roughly, that I hadn’t realized we’d crossed through the room already.
“I’m not gambling with you,” I replied with as much snark as I could manage. He’d unraveled me with just that kiss, and as he continued to unbutton his shirt impatiently, giving me glimpses of his tatted, muscled chest, I was too weak to think straight enough and give him more sass.
“Prove it, Sloane.” His eyes slitted as he kept going on his shirt as he dragged his ravenous gaze over me. Without any warning, he grabbed my skirt and yanked it down with my panties. That was how much of a fierce monster he could be—rushed, rough, and ready to show me how he’d always be stronger. Even though the stretchy and soft fabric clung to my knees, he didn’t wait for me to reclaim my balance as he pushed his hand toward my pussy. Feeling his fingers sliding between my legs, I clenched my teeth and wished he didn’t have such power over me.
“Prove that you’re not mine,” he warned.
“I don’t belong to you,” I protested as sternly as I could as he cupped me and dove his fingers along my slippery entrance.
“The fuck you don’t.” He stepped into my space again, kissing me hard as he fingered me, collecting my juices.
Then with his hand on the back of my neck, keeping me in place, he brought his fingers up and traced my lips. The scent of my arousal was unmissable, but he wasn’t giving me a chance to taste myself. He closed his mouth over mine and sucked my lower lip in, swiping his tongue over the moisture he’d put there.
Oh, fuck.
Oh, fucking fuck.
This wasn’t supposed to be hot. It was so bad of me to be this turned on, but he was a master of seduction and truly the lover in control here.
“Your cunt is dripping for me,” he growled as he yanked his tie off.
I shook my head and pushed at his chest, determined with a fading thread of independence to teach him a lesson that I wasn’t just some thing to boss around. I was a person. I was a human. I was an individual and I had to have some fucking rights around here. All I’d done was try to help his cook when he was injured, and there was no reason for him to act like this was a transgression against this twisted, strange bond we had together.
“Your body is ripe for me,” he warned as he grabbed my hands with one of his. Too quickly for me to stop him, he yanked off his tie and bound my hands together.
“Maxim. Stop.”
He scowled, grabbing the halves of my shirt and ripping the garment in two. “No.”
I gasped as he lowered to unclasp my strapless bra, because the second my breasts were revealed, he cupped one with a hungry grip as he latched his mouth to the other. Crying out at the delicious sting of slight pain, I tried to stem this arousal that snaked so hot and fast through me. My nipples were so sensitive, no doubt because of how my body was already changing in this pregnancy, but it was also because it was him. Because Maxim knew how to play my body so well, tuned in to how wild I could get as I neared a climax.
“No, I won’t fucking stop. Not until you understand.” He shoved me onto the bed.
With my hands tied within the silkiness of his tie, I couldn’t break the fall. Landing partly on my side, I scrambled to sit up and face him.
“I won’t stop until you fucking understand that you belong to me, Sloane. You are here to give me an heir,” he repeated as removed his shirt. Staring at me all the while, he incited my skin to burn under his greedy gaze. Then when he shucked off his pants and boxers, letting me see how hard his long shaft was for me, I scooted back—not to escape him, but to brace myself for the pounding I wanted.
“And you need to understand—” I cried out as he grabbed my hands and put me off balance again.
He forced my hands above my head and tied them to the bedframe, stretching me out fully. As he kneeled back, he dragged my skirt and panties all the way off. “No. You’re not telling me how it’s going to be.”
“I’m not—”
“Exactly. You’re not.” He shoved my legs apart so they draped over his thighs as he kneeled close to my pussy. Staring at me there, he glared so intensely that I had to be gushing even more for him.
“You’ve got no say, Sloane. You belong to me, and you will be mine.”
“But I wasn’t ever his!” I had to make him see reason. “I wasn’t trying anything with that cook.”
He shook his head, hellbent on not listening to me at all. Nudging forward, he pushed his cock against me and rubbed the head over my juices.
“I was trying to help a member of your staff with an injury.”
“I don’t fucking care what your excuses are.” He slammed in, robbing me of breath for a long moment. Just like every other time he filled me, the stretch thrilled me and prompted me to surge up against him for more of that friction right where I needed him.
“Not… excuses…” I said between panted breaths as he rammed into me over and over.
Strung out like this, with my hands tied to the bed and his hands gripping my ass, I was as captured as I ever could be. I was his to play with like this, and I enjoyed it. But I couldn’t let him get away with this insanity.
“Maxim—”
“No!” he roared, pummeling my pussy even faster. Each time he smacked against me, my clit burned that much hotter with an aching need. My breasts jiggled, so sensitive as they moved back and forth, and I couldn’t hold on for long.
He stared at me with that smoldering intensity, as if he were a madman who’d never get deep enough. Like he had to brand me from the inside out with his soul and mark me for the whole world to see.
Like this, it didn’t seem like he was fucking me and stuffing me with his big cock just to make a baby. In this way, he wasn’t only trying to knock me up.
Seeing him pushed to such anger at the idea of another man—even someone who wasn’t a threat like his own cook—had me realizing another reason.
He’s jealous.
He’s fucking jealous and—
He slammed into me faster, pushing me closer and closer to the orgasm that waited so near. I closed my eyes and held on to his tie, bracing myself for the shattering pulse of relief that would render me so spent and weak.
He was jealous, and I tried not to let the stupid thought mess up my head.
Maxim was jealous, and that insinuated that he cared. I wasn’t just a thing, a possession. I was not only a captive woman to impregnate. If he could be this enraged and jealous, it had to mean that he cared. That he wanted me to fully be his in every way.
Oh, God.
I couldn’t let my mind go there. I refused to consider that something deeper and more profound than constant hot sex during my captivity was building here.
“Mine,” he yelled, digging his fingers into my ass cheeks as he held me in place and fucked me so furiously. “You are mine, Sloane.”
But I wasn’t. Deep down, I couldn’t forget that I was only his captive. Nothing more.
Coming under the waves of blissfully potent relief, I sobbed and waited for him to follow me. This orgasm hit hard, just like all of them did, and I no longer tried to guilt trip myself from embracing how damn good he made me feel. A band of tension snapped and gave way in my stomach. My nipples pulsed with the ache of this climax, and the deep euphoria of coming ensured wave after wave of endorphins to flood me.
I was his. His to fuck. But in this hazy aftermath of climaxing so intensely for him after our fight, I had no willpower to analyze how else he saw me as his.
He didn’t insist on anything else, because with one more quick drive into my pussy, he came. The jerk of his dick inside me gave me that sense of triumph, like it always did, and I had to wonder as he shot his cum into me if he had it all wrong.
I was his like this, in a physical sense.
But with how well I could push him to the brink of insanity and invoke him to get this mad in a fit of jealousy, I had to wonder if I had him. If I had power over him to render him a beast like this.
No. I kept my eyes closed as he lay over me, breathing hard and slumping to the mattress. Spent from fucking me, he covered me, and I tried to hate the weight of him over me. No matter when and how he took me, this was what I cherished the most. His body on mine. His arms and legs weighing over me and keeping me tucked into his security. In this position, with his dick still twitching in me a last couple of times as he emptied himself into me, I was warmed and comforted with how snugly we were united.
As one.
I cringed as he untied my hands without getting off me or slipping out of me. The moment my arms were lowered, I let them fall on his back as I hugged him. Making a liar of myself, I showed him, again, that I was his. While I stroked my hands over his broad, toned back, the memories of his anger receded.
But not completely.
I’d never forget how furious he was. And as my heart slowed and he relaxed with me, I realized that I was promised more of his wrath in the future. The longer I hid my pregnancy from him, the madder he would be…
