CHAPTER 17 – Leona #2
“You like watching me, don’t you?” I ask, my voice low, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
He doesn’t respond. But the way his nostrils flare tells me all I need to know.
His lips curl into a faint smirk. “Show me,” he orders, his voice a dark command, thick with restraint.
There’s a fire that ignites in me at his words. The weight of his attention, of his control, makes my pulse quicken. He’s not here to comfort me.
He’s here to claim me. I’m nothing more than a toy for him to use, and the realization sends a thrill through my veins.
I obey. Not because I have to, but because I want to. His control over me is something I crave, something I need. The pressure in my body builds faster now, and I move with a desperation I can't ignore, dragging my fingers over my clit, faster, harder, until I feel like I’m going to break.
His gaze never leaves me. The room feels smaller with every breath, the air thick with tension.
I try to stifle my sounds, but it’s impossible. The tension in my core is unbearable, and my fingers move in rhythmic circles, teasing the edge of release. I’m close. So fucking close.
His voice drops lower, like gravel. “Look at me when you come.”
The command sends a shiver through me. His words push me over the edge.
I let go, my body seizing with pleasure, my back arching as I bite my lip to hold in the scream.
But it’s too much. I can’t hold back. I come with a cry, my entire body trembling, my fingers stilling as waves of pleasure crash through me.
He watches the entire thing, his expression unreadable, dark with desire and something more dangerous. I feel exposed. But somehow, I can’t bring myself to care. My body, my pleasure—it’s all his.
When the tremors die down, I collapse back onto the bed, gasping for air. My body is slick with sweat, and my fingers are still trembling from the intensity.
I try to steady my breath, but Marcus is already moving toward me, his presence a shadow that fills the room. He looms above me, dark and powerful, his gaze fixed on me with a possessiveness that burns.
“Get up,” he commands, his voice low, rough.
I don’t question him. There’s no hesitation in me now, only the understanding that I’m his to command, his to take.
He doesn’t wait for me to stand. With one hand, he yanks me up, spinning me to face the cold, concrete wall. My body stiffens as he presses himself against me, the unmistakable hardness of his cock pressing into my lower back.
He doesn’t say anything as he holds me there, his grip tightening on my wrists as he pins them against the wall. The dominance in his touch, the quiet power, sends a shiver down my spine.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Leona?” His breath is warm against my ear, his tone thick with desire.
“Yes,” I whisper, pushing back against him, desperate for him to take control completely.
“Good girl,” he mutters, and the praise makes me burn with need. He spins me around, lifting me by my waist and throwing me back on the bed, his body following mine, pressing me into the mattress.
Then he enters me—hard and fast—forcing a gasp from my lips as he fills me completely. The power, the raw force, it makes my head spin. He doesn’t give me a chance to adjust. He doesn’t slow down. He simply takes what he wants, every thrust brutal, relentless, pulling me deeper into the abyss.
His hand wraps around my throat, not choking, but enough to remind me who’s in charge. I gasp as he tightens his grip, his other hand bruising my hips as he continues to fuck me with the same savage rhythm.
“Beg for it,” he growls, his voice low, dangerous. “Beg me to make you come.”
“Please,” I whisper, the words slipping out, raw and desperate. “Make me come.”
That’s all it takes. His cock moves harder, deeper, and I shatter around him, my body trembling with release. My walls tighten, pulling him in as he slams into me one last time, filling me completely as his own release crashes over him.
We both lie there for a moment, breathing heavily, the silence between us filled with the echoes of what just happened.
“Good girl,” he whispers again, his fingers brushing over my skin as he pulls me closer. “You've changed." The observation carries no judgment, only certainty.
"Yes." No point denying the obvious. The woman who existed three months ago would never recognize what I've become—what I've witnessed today and my reactions to it.
"Regrets?"
The question deserves serious consideration. Searching for moral outrage that seems increasingly distant, I meet his gaze. "No."
His smile is barely perceptible but deeply satisfied. "Good. Because we're only just beginning."
He leans forward, capturing my lips in a kiss that promises continuation of what I've started. War rages above us, men die by his command, and here we are—finding connection in the eye of the storm he's created.
My adaptation to this world of blood and power feels natural, almost inevitable. What registers now is something closer to completion—finally finding the place I belong, beside the most dangerous man in Port Hollow.
Not as his victim. Not even as his wife.
But as his equal in the darkness we both embrace.