Bound by Desire

Chapter 52

Bound by Desire

Isabella

Suddenly the vibrations stop again, and my blindfold is removed. With my eyes now free, I blink against the sudden assault of light, adjusting to the dimness of the room. As Aslanov unhooks my hands from the chain, leaving them still bound with zip ties, I feel a surge of relief flood through me.

But my relief is short-lived as Aslanov’s commanding voice cuts through the silence, sending a shiver down my spine. He pushes me to the ground with a firm hand, his touch leaving me trembling with anticipation.

“You see that chair?” he questions, his tone cold. I nod. “You’re going to crawl all the way.”

Aslanov strides purposefully to the chair, his every step echoing through the dimly lit room with an air of dominance. I watch him with a mixture of fear and anticipation, my bound hands making it difficult for me to follow.

Struggling against the constraints of my zip-tied hands, I begin to crawl towards him, my movements slow and labored. Each inch feels like an eternity as I inch my way across the floor towards him, my heart pounding in my chest with a mixture of fear and desire.

With every movement, the zip ties dig into my skin, leaving painful marks as a reminder of my helplessness. But despite the discomfort, I press on, driven by an overwhelming need to submit.

As I reach him, Aslanov spreads his legs wide in a commanding display of dominance. My breath catches in my throat as I gaze up at him, my eyes drawn to the glint of the knife in his hand.

Reminders of that night flood to the back of my mind.

With a flick of his wrist, Aslanov toys with the blade, his movements deliberate and menacing. My pulse quickens with a mixture of fear and excitement.

“Come closer,” he commands, his voice low and menacing.

My heart pounds in my chest as I obey, my movements hesitant and fearful. With each crawl, I inch closer to him, my breath catching in my throat as I feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on me.

Finally, I find myself pressed against his legs, my body trembling with a mixture of fear and arousal. I whimper softly, my eyes downcast as I wait for his next command.

With a swift motion, Aslanov brings the knife under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. My breath hitches in my throat as I meet his gaze, my eyes wide with fear and anticipation.

“Look at me,” he orders, his voice sending a shiver down my spine. His sinister magnetism lures me in, no wonder this man is the head of the most prominent organization in the world.

As Aslanov holds the knife under my chin, a bead of blood trickles down my neck, the wetness sending a shiver of fear down my spine. I can feel the sharp sting of the blade against my skin. The warmth slowly runs down my neck.

“And how about now?” Aslanov’s voice is low and menacing, his eyes boring into mine with a predatory intensity. “Do you fear me?”

My breath catches in my throat at the question, my heart pounding in my chest as I struggle to find the strength to respond. I feel the weight of his dominance bearing down on me, threatening to crush my spirit beneath its relentless pressure.

But even as fear grips my heart, I refuse to surrender to it completely. With a trembling voice and a defiant glint in my eyes, I whisper, “No.”

Aslanov’s eyes narrow at my response, his grip tightening on the knife. A dangerous smile curls at the corners of his lips as he leans in closer, his breath hot against my skin. “Interesting,” he murmurs, his voice betraying a hint of intrigue. “It seems the little girl has more backbone than most.” I can’t help but smirk a little.

Aslanov removes the knife from under my chin, and I let out a shaky sigh of relief, my heart still pounding in my chest. The tension in the room eases slightly as the sharp blade is no longer pressed against my skin.

But before I can fully relax, another loud thud reverberates through the room as he sticks the knife into the wooden table next to him. The sound echoes in my ears, a stark reminder of the danger that still lurks in the air.

Aslanov’s eyes gleam with a predatory intensity as he gestures towards the space on his lap, his voice low and commanding.

“Crawl onto my lap.” Yes . I reach him, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I settle onto his lap, my body trembling with anticipation. As Aslanov’s arms wrap around me, pulling me close to him, I know that I am teetering on the edge of something dangerous and intoxicating, something that will irrevocably change the course of my fate.

Aslanov

Fierce woman. She is a lot more resilient than most, including myself. She’s a strong spirit. Not weak, no, surely not. My lips trace the curve of her neck as she moans. There is a glow over her chest, her bralette holding her boobs up high. Fucking perfect. She’s faced the other way on my lap.

My lips kiss her neck as my hand lowers in front of her stomach, slowly reaching down. Isabella whimpers and leans her head against my chest. My hand disappears into her black lace panties, they’re soaked. Without another word, I put two fingers into her. A soft moan lingers through the room.

My woman .

Her moan fills my ears like music and as I pick up the pace, she’s barely able to hold it together. Her hands grab mine and dig their nails into it.

As my hand moves in and out of her, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body, my phone rings. My movements falter, breaking the intense silence of the room. Nobody calls me directly. It’s a breach of protocol, a sign of trouble. After another minute, the same number calls again, the ringing piercing through the air with a sense of urgency. My hand instinctively reaches up to cover Isabella her mouth, my eyes narrowing as I contemplate my next move.

With a swift motion, I put the phone on speaker, my other hand moving down between her legs once again. She stills as I answer the phone. Her quiet moans muffled in my hand. The voice on the other end is urgent, it’s about Petrov . It’s all in Russian, Isabella won’t know what’s going on. Besides, she’s too far into it. My fingers never stop moving in and out of her.

She pushes her tights together, making it harder for me.

“Spread your legs for me,” I whisper in her ear. She whimpers but obeys.

This call isn’t about some trivial mishap; something is going on. Something that requires immediate attention.

And yet, I don’t move.

I should be there. This is my operation, my responsibility. I should already be in the car, barking orders, putting out fires. But as my hand slides back to her heated skin, as her breath catches in anticipation, the gravity of the situation shifts.

She’s my priority now.

I bark another order and decide Dominik will go. He will go in my place—I will catch up later once I’m done here.

I end the call, returning my attention back to her.

“I love it when you submit to me,” I breathe into her ear in a low voice. Her skin gets covered in goosebumps as she drops her head into my chest. I hold Isabella close, her body trembling with anticipation beneath my touch. With a primal hunger that cannot be denied, I set out to please her, to make her mine in every sense of the word.

“Tell me who you belong to.” I remove my hand from her red lips. She moans while her oh-so-sweet voice whispers out my name, but I barely hear her. “Who?” I bite her neck slightly harder than before, and she screams a little louder.

“You.”

I smirk against her skin. My free hand roams over her heated skin, tracing the curves of her body with reverent exploration.

I revel in the softness of her flesh, the way she responds to my touch with a gasp of pleasure that ignites a fierce desire within me. All while pumping my fingers in and out of her heated core. I take them out, my fingers sticking with her arousal. “Look at you soaking my hand.” They shine in the reflection of the light. “Suck.”

Isabella’s breath hitches. I lift my fingers to her mouth and her sweet lips wrap around them.

“That’s a good girl, taste yourself and everything I do to you.” Her tongue swirls around my inked stained fingers. After a while she sinks her teeth into my skin, slightly biting my finger. I hiss at the sudden change of touch. Little shit. With a swift motion, I insert three fingers into her with force, and she screams. Circling her clit for more stimulation.

I tease and tantalize her, eliciting soft moans of ecstasy that echo through the room like music to my ears. I take my time, savoring every moment as I worship her body with a devotion that borders an obsession.

As Isabella reaches the pinnacle of ecstasy, her cries of pleasure filling the room like a sweet melody, I bring her to the edge and then abruptly halt, leaving her teetering on the brink of release. With a predatory gleam in my eyes, I pull back, denying her the satisfaction she craves.

As Isabella writhes on my lap, her body aching for release, she summons the last vestiges of her strength and reaches for my hand, her fingers trembling as they wrap around my wrist. With a desperate urgency in her eyes, she attempts to pull my hand back to where she craves it most, her movements fueled by a primal need that cannot be denied.

But I resist her efforts, my grip firm and unyielding as I hold her in place, refusing to give in to her demands.

This moment isn’t hers to control. Not yet.

With a swift, deliberate motion, I grasp her waist and lift her off my lap. Her gasp is sharp, her body momentarily weightless before I turn her, setting her down on the chair behind us. The leather cushions creak softly under her weight, and for a brief second, she looks up at me, wide-eyed and breathless.

I tower above her now, my presence casting a shadow over her seated form. She leans back instinctively, her chest heaving, her thighs shifting as if trying to find relief on their own. But there’s nowhere for her to run, no escape from the intensity of my gaze.

Her lips part, the beginnings of a plea forming, but I cut her off before she can speak. My hands grip the armrests on either side of her, caging her in, forcing her to look up at me.

My hand moves swiftly, wrapping around her throat with deliberate precision. My grip is firm but measured, a perfect balance of dominance and restraint. Her breath hitches as I press her back against the chair, the cool leather meeting her heated skin.

Isabella

My breath catches as his hand wraps around my throat, firm and unrelenting. The cool leather of the chair presses against my back, grounding me, but it’s his grip that holds me in place. It’s not painful—he’s careful, measured—but it’s strong enough to send a shiver down my spine, enough to remind me that I’m utterly at his mercy.

But even amid my panic, there’s a perverse thrill coursing through my veins, a dark excitement that ignites a fire within me. Arousal .

Aslanov’s grip tightens slightly and when he sees my struggle it loosens again, allowing me to draw in a ragged gasp of air. My lungs burn with the effort, my chest heaving as I struggle to fill them with precious oxygen. But before I can fully catch my breath, his hand tightens once again.

He is playing with me.

And yet, despite the danger and uncertainty that lurks in the shadows, there’s a part of me that revels in the sensation, that craves the exhilarating rush of adrenaline that courses through my veins, that craves him. Amid my struggle, there’s a twisted pleasure to be found, a dark ecstasy that binds me to him in ways I can’t comprehend.

His voice is low and menacing as he leans in closer, his breath hot against my ear. “Do you crave my touch, even as you tremble in fear?”

I want to deny it, to scream out in protest and defiance, but his touch betrays me, igniting a fire within me that I can’t extinguish.

“Yes,” I whisper without air, unable to look him in the eyes.

With one swift motion, his free hand pushes two fingers into me, sliding in and out with ease. As his fingers delve deeper, my body responds with urgency, every nerve alight with pleasure. I arch my back, pressing against him, desperate for more of his touch. He only tightens his grip on my throat. His movements are relentless, each thrust sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through me. I can’t fucking breathe .

I can feel the tension building, coiling tight in the pit of my stomach, as his fingers work their magic. With each stroke, he pushes me closer to the edge, until I’m teetering on the brink of release. He adds another finger. Sensations overwhelm me, my breaths coming in ragged gasps as I surrender to the pleasure coursing through my veins. My mind is a haze of euphoria, consumed by the sheer intensity of the moment.

And then it happens, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over me, sweeping me away in its relentless embrace. I cry out, my body convulsing with the force of my climax, every muscle tensed with the sheer intensity of the sensation. In that moment of ecstasy, he leans in close, his voice a seductive whisper against my ear. “That’s a good girl, Isabella,” he murmurs, his words dripping with satisfaction. “Let go. Give in to me.”

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