Chapter 8
eight
. . .
Sabien
Morning. Sunlight streaming through the windows I forgot to close.
I reach for Clara, still half-asleep, hand searching the sheets.
Cold. Empty. My eyes snap open, body tensing.
She's gone. Panic claws its way up my throat, irrational but unstoppable.
Where is she? Did she regret it? Did she run?
I'm out of bed in an instant, not bothering with clothes, stalking through the penthouse like a predator looking for prey.
"Clara?" My voice echoes through the empty rooms. No answer.
Fuck. FUCK.
The panic morphs into something darker, more possessive. I just found her. Just claimed her. She can't be gone. I won't allow it.
I grab pants, yank them on without underwear. My phone. Call building security. Have them lock down the exits. She couldn't have gotten far—
The front door opens.
Clara walks in, smiling shyly, carrying two coffee cups from the shop downstairs. She's wearing my shirt from last night, the hem hitting mid-thigh, exposing those perfect legs. Her hair is tousled, face scrubbed clean, lips still swollen from my kisses.
"Morning," she says, her voice soft. "I thought you might want—"
I'm across the room in three strides, crushing her to me. Coffee sloshes over the cups, spilling onto the floor. I don't care. She's here. She's safe. She's mine.
"You left," I growl against her hair, inhaling her scent, reassuring the primitive part of my brain that needs her.
"Just for coffee," she says, sounding surprised. "The doorman let me back up. I used your key card."
I pull back, cupping her face in my hands. "Don't leave without telling me. Ever again."
Her eyes widen, but she nods. "Okay."
The panic recedes, replaced by a different kind of hunger. She looks fucking edible in my shirt, smelling of me, of sex, of us together. My cock hardens instantly, pressing against the zipper of my hastily donned pants. I lean down to claim her mouth—
"Excuse me."
The voice from behind Clara makes my head snap up. One of those auction pricks from last night—Richardson—stands in my open doorway. Must have caught the elevator before it closed behind Clara.
"I just wanted a word with the lovely lady," he says, eyes roaming over Clara's bare legs. "Didn't realize you were…entertaining, Wolfe."
Before I reach him, Clara steps toward the door, trying to close it.
"Please leave," she says firmly.
Richardson's hand shoots out, grabbing her arm. "Now, don't be like that, sweetheart. I still have that check I was going to write for you last night—"
Rage detonates. Hell, the fucker must still be drunk from last night. I yank him back, slam him into the wall hard enough that a picture falls. My forearm presses against his throat, cutting off his air. His eyes bulge, face reddening.
"Touch her again and you're dead," I snarl, voice barely human. "Not figuratively. Not financially. Actually dead. They will never find your body."
He claws at my arm, panic in his eyes. He believes me. Good.
"Sabien," Clara says softly from behind me. Not afraid. Concerned.
I ease the pressure just enough for him to gasp in air. "Get out. Never come near her again. If I see you in the same room as her, I will end your entire fucking existence."
I step back. Richardson stumbles away, coughing, hand at his throat. "Fucking psychopath," he wheezes, but he's moving toward the door, fear evident in every line of his body.
"Exactly." I smile, cold and dangerous. "Remember that."
The door closes behind him. I turn to Clara, expecting fear, regret. Instead, her eyes are dark with something else entirely. She takes a step toward me, then another.
I drag her to my chest, kiss her hard—possessive, devouring. My hands roam her body, needing to touch, to claim, to reassure myself she's really here. "No one else, baby," I growl against her mouth. "No one touches what's mine."
She moans into the kiss, body melting against mine. I lift her, her legs automatically wrapping around my waist. Three steps to the couch. I lay her down, rip off my shirt that she's wearing. She's naked underneath, perfect and mine.
"Spread for Daddy," I command, already unzipping my pants.
She obeys instantly, thighs falling open. Her pussy is pink and swollen from last night, glistening already with need. Mine. All fucking mine.
"This pussy is mine," I growl, positioning myself between her legs, the head of my cock nudging her entrance. "Say it."
"Yours," she whispers, eyes locked on mine, no hesitation.
I slam home in one hard thrust. She cries out, back arching.
She's tighter than last night if that's even possible, gripping me like a vise.
I know I should be gentle—she's new to this, probably sore—but I can't. Not after the panic of thinking I'd lost her.
Not after seeing another man's hands on her.
I fuck her rough, hips pistoning, one hand gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks, the other braced on the couch beside her head. "Mine," I grunt with each thrust. "All. Fucking. Mine."
"Yes," she gasps, hands clutching at my shoulders, nails digging in. "Yours, Sabien. Only yours."
The words fuel me, drive me harder, deeper. I lift her legs higher, opening her completely to me. The new angle makes her cry out, eyes rolling back.
"So wet for me," I praise, feeling her juices coating my cock, dripping down my balls. "Such a good girl. Taking Daddy's cock so well."
She whimpers, walls fluttering around me. She's close already. So responsive. So perfect.
"Going to fill you again," I promise, voice rough with exertion and need. "Breed you until you're round with my child. Would you like that, baby? My cum deep inside you, my baby growing in your belly?"
Her eyes fly open, pupils blown with lust. "Yes," she moans. "Please, daddy.”
That single word destroys me. I fuck her harder, faster, feeling my release building at the base of my spine. "Come for me," I order. "Come on my cock, Clara. Show me who you belong to."
She comes with a scream, clenching around me so tight it's almost painful. Her body convulses, back arching, nails breaking skin on my shoulders. The sight, the sound, the feel of her coming apart beneath me sends me over the edge.
I empty inside her with a roar, holding her hips tight against mine, grinding deep to ensure not a drop escapes. I fill her with everything I have, marking her from within. Mine. Only mine.
As the pleasure fades, I collapse on top of her, careful to brace my weight on my forearms. Her heart thunders against mine, our breath mingling as we gasp for air. I brush sweaty hair from her face, marveling at her beauty, her perfect submission, her complete acceptance of me.
She smiles up at me, soft and sweet despite the roughness of our coupling. "I'm not going anywhere," she whispers, as if reading my earlier fears.
I brush my lips against hers, tender now that the beast is temporarily sated. "Good," I murmur against her mouth. "Because I'm never letting you go."