Chapter 7 – Noelle #2
My nails dig into his shoulders, my voice breaking. “Niko, please, I need—”
“Say it.” He presses just enough to breach me, then pulls back, making me whimper. “Say you want me. Say you’re mine. Say I own you.”
My pride claws at my throat, but my body betrays me with a desperate roll of my hips. “I—” The words burn. I swallow them down, but his cock slides just a little deeper, stretching me, and I break. “I want you. Please.”
“And?”
“Fuck. I’m yours,” I cry. “You own me.”
His groan is low, feral, vibrating against my chest. “That’s my girl.”
And then he drives into me in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. My scream rips free, raw and sharp, my body arching against him as he stretches me wide, too much and exactly what I need.
The table shudders under us as he pounds into me, each thrust a claim, each movement punishing and perfect. His hand clamps around my throat again, tilting my head back so I can’t look anywhere but at him.
“You hate me?” he growls, his hips slamming into mine, the sound obscene, wet, consuming. “Or do you hate how much you want me?”
I can’t answer. I can’t think. My body convulses around him, clutching him, desperate and wild.
His thumb strokes lazily over my throat, a mockery of tenderness as he drives me closer and closer to the edge. “You’ll come for me, Noelle. You’ll scream for me. And when I’m done, you won’t be able to walk.”
“Oh, fuck.”
“That’s it,” he growls against my ear, driving into me harder, faster. “Take me. Take every brutal inch of me. You were made for this—made for me. This pussy is mine. Say it.”
“It’s yours,” I choke out. “God, it’s yours—”
“Mine,” he repeats, voice like a vow and a threat all at once. He bites my jaw, grinds deeper, harder. “Every part of you belongs to me. Your screams. Your tears. Your cunt squeezing the life out of me—you’re mine, Noelle. And I’m not letting you go.”
My nails dig into his shoulders, my body arching, trembling, trying to hold back the violent wave rising inside me. But his hand clamps tighter around my throat, his words filthier, darker, each one pushing me over the edge.
“Come on my cock, ogonek. Let me feel you break.”
And I do. It rips through me like fire, tearing me open from the inside out. My scream is swallowed against his mouth as my body convulses around him, clenching, milking, desperate for everything he gives.
He snarls when he feels it, his control snapping.
“Fuck—mine. All mine.” His thrusts grow erratic, savage, until he drives in deep and holds, his body locking tight against mine.
A violent shudder racks through him as he empties into me, growling against my throat like he’s branding me from the inside.
Even as I collapse beneath him, ruined, shaking, he keeps me pinned, his hand still firm on my throat. His breath is hot, ragged against my ear. “Look at you,” he whispers, a dark satisfaction in his tone. “Wrecked. Marked. You’ll never belong to anyone else.”
I feel weak and boneless, trembling from the violence of release.
I expect him to pull away, to leave me empty and cold, but he doesn’t.
Instead, Niko scoops me up like I weigh nothing and carries me back onto the bed.
He tucks the sheet around me, the gesture so gentle it feels like a cruel joke after the way he just destroyed me.
My heart won’t stop pounding. My skin is buzzing, my throat raw from screaming his name. God. I can’t believe I just let him do that. Shame burns in me, but so does something worse—something hotter. Hunger. My body is already betraying me, aching for another round.
He stretches out beside me, his heat soaking into my skin even though we’re not touching. The bed feels too small, the air too thick. I freeze, unsure if I’m ready for such intimacy.
His finger slides along my jaw, slow, deliberate, tilting my face until I have no choice but to look at him. His eyes are dark, heavy-lidded, gleaming with satisfaction. “Scared?” he asks, voice low, taunting.
My lips part, but no sound comes out. Because the truth is—I don’t know. Am I scared? Yes. But I’m also starving.
His mouth curves into that wolfish grin that makes my stomach drop. “Good,” he murmurs, shifting closer until his thigh presses against mine under the sheet. “Because I’m not nearly done with you.”
A knock rattles the door before I can respond, and my heart jerks in my chest.
Niko curses under his breath, yanking the sheet higher to cover me just as the door swings open. Demyan strides in without waiting for permission, his expression grim.
“There’s been an attack,” he says, eyes flicking once to me, then hardening back on Niko. “On one of our cars. No deaths, but some of the men are badly injured.”
Niko’s jaw tightens. “That’s routine. Why are you wasting my time with this now?”
Demyan doesn’t flinch. Instead, he pulls a folded slip of paper from his coat and holds it out. “Because it wasn’t just an attack. It was a message. For her.”
The room tilts under me. My stomach twists. Niko takes the note, his fingers crushing the paper before he even unfolds it. His face goes stony, his eyes scanning the words.
“What does it say?” My voice comes out small, barely audible.
Niko’s gaze lifts, black fire burning in his eyes. He doesn’t answer at first. His silence is worse than anything. Finally, he hisses the words like poison.
“The bride bleeds next.”
The air leaves my lungs in a single, sharp rush. I’m frozen, staring at him, at the paper clenched in his fist. Bride. That means me. Someone out there wants me dead.
I drag the sheet tighter around my body, but it does nothing to stop the chill crawling over my skin. My pulse pounds so hard it hurts, and I can’t tell if it’s fear or shock or both.
My throat goes dry. “Niko….” My voice cracks, trembling. “They’re coming for me?”
His hand fists the sheet where it covers me, anchoring me to the bed. His stare is brutal, merciless. “Let them try.”