Chapter 17 – Kat
I didn’t go back to the suite until hours later—I decided to wait until I was sure he would have left the room for his office or wherever he had to be.
My body was still humming with a cold, simmering rage.
The memory of how he and Irene looked together still irritated something in me; the thought of whatever the fuck he was telling her bugging me.
My hands were fisted at my sides, my mind a storm of curses.
I put the key in the lock, my movements stiff. I was ready to storm inside, to find my phone, to call Sava, to do anything but confront him again.
But when I opened the door, he was already there. He was standing in the middle of the room, looking at me, his face impassive. He was no longer in his formal clothes. He was in a simple black shirt and trousers, a dangerous, casual ease in his posture.
My heart skipped a beat. The anger inside me, so hot and fierce just a moment ago, now froze over.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” I said, my voice betraying the turmoil inside me. I took a step back, my hand still on the door handle, ready to bolt.
He couldn’t move. He didn’t answer. He just watched me. His eyes, dark and unreadable, bore into me. I felt like a bug pinned under a microscope.
“You’re testing my patience, Katria,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re pushing me, and you have no idea what that does to me.”
I scoffed, a short, bitter sound. “I’m testing your patience?”
I dropped my hand from the door handle and took a defiant step into the room. “And what did you expect? Did you just think I would just stand there?”
I tried to push past him, but he was too fast. He grabbed my arm, his grip firm and unyielding. I struggled, twisting my body, but it was of no use. His strength was a wall I couldn’t break.
“Don’t,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. “Don’t push me away. Not when you’re the one who keeps coming back.”
I stopped struggling, my body weak with exhaustion and defeat. “I’m not coming back,” I said, my voice trembling. “I’m just tired.”
“Are you?” he asked, his voice now a mere whisper. “Are you tired, or are you just confused?”
His question hung in the air between us.
I looked at him, my mind a storm of complicated emotions. I was confused. Confused by his anger one minute, his possessiveness the next. Confused by my own defiance and my own undeniable need for him. I had to choose; I could either push him away again or I could finally, truly tell him the truth.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, the words a raw, honest whisper. “I don’t know. All I know is…it’s hard for me to completely trust you.”
His expression didn’t change, but his grip on my arm tightened.
“Trust? You think this is about trust?” he said, his voice laced with a bitter irony.
“I could have left you in a cold, locked-up room. I could have sold your father’s company.
I could have handed you over to the enemy.
But I didn’t. I married you. I gave you my name.
I brought you into my home. And I protected you. ”
“Protected me?” I said, a harsh laugh escaping my lips. “Is that what you call it? You’ve brought me into a world where I am a stranger, and I'm supposed to just accept it? To just…trust you?”
“My actions are for your own good,” he said, unyielding.
“You don’t understand the dangers you’re in.
You don’t understand the snakes in this house.
You don’t understand that every action I take is to protect you.
” He let go of my hand and took a step back.
“But when I see you, your body trembling with anger and your eyes blazing with fire, I can’t think.
All I want to do is silence you. And not with a weapon. ”
The words hung in the air between us. He wasn’t apologizing. He was explaining. He was telling me that his violence, his cruelty, his punishments, were his way of protecting me. The logic was twisted, warped, but it was his truth.
He took a step toward me, and then another.
I stood my ground, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs.
He reached out, his hand tracing the line of my jaw, his touch light, and yet, it was a command.
“And when I see you like that, when you push back, when you challenge me, I want to make you mine. Again and again.”
My breath caught in my throat. I wanted to push him away. I wanted to scream at him. But my body was betraying me. It was humming with a want, a desire that was as terrifying as it was undeniable.
His head bent, and lips, warm and soft, came down to mine.
The kiss was slow at first, a gentle exploration.
But as I heaved a soft sigh of surrender, it grew passionate, demanding, and full of all the emotions we couldn’t speak.
His arms went around my waist, pulling me to him, his mouth moving against mine with fierce hunger.
My hands went to his shoulders, clinging to him.
I quickly got lost in the moment, my body a willing captive to his touch, my mind a whirlwind of confusion and needs.
His mouth pressed fiercely against mine, silencing my protests and swallowing my doubts.
I was a blazing fire, and he was the wind, stirring the flames.
He pulled away from the kiss, his lips trailing down my jaw and neck, leaving a trail of desire behind.
My hands went to his hair, clutching at the silky strands, my body arching against his, a silent plea for more.
He pushed me gently to the wall, his body a solid, warm presence against mine.
His lips continued their journey, down my throat to the hollow of my neck, to the soft skin of my collarbone and breast. He was a man possessed, his movements deliberate, his touches worshipful, and all I could do was lean into him, my body willing captive to his touch.
He pulled back, just enough for me to see his face, his eyes dark with a primal hunger, his lips parted.
“Moy zaychik,” he whispered, his voice a low, rough growl, his breath warm against my skin. “My little rabbit. You fight me so hard.”
I gasped, my breath coming in ragged pants.
The words, spoken in his native tongue, were a brand on my skin, a calm.
I felt a confusing mix of fear and a wild, desperate thrill.
I was visibly affected, a silent testament to his power over me.
Every nerve ending in my body was screaming for his touch, for his voice, for him.
But my mind was still battling. It was a battlefield of want versus reason, of pleasure versus pain.
He lowered his head again, down to my chest, his lips sucking my nipple. “Miya milosy,” he murmured. “My mercy.”
“Danil,” I whispered, my voice a weak protest. He kept sucking my breast, his left hand on my right breast, and my body responded without thought, without permission. Then, his lips came crushing mine again.
But then my mind caught up. A sudden surge of defiance, of self-preservation, gave me a jolt of strength. I pushed against his chest, hard. “Stop,” I whispered, my voice raw and broken. “Please.”
He pulled back, his eyes dark with a mixture of confusion and frustration. “Stop? After everything we’ve just been through? After that? After you let me —”
“I can’t just…forget. I can’t just give in,” I uttered, almost whispering.
He just looked at me with a long, searching gaze. Then, a slow, predatory smile spread across his lips.
“You already have,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
He was right; my desire was a humming, living, breathing testament to my surrender. I closed my eyes, a silent admission of defeat, and gave in.
He was a force of nature, and I was a ship in a storm, pulled and tossed by his currents. He took my surrender as a new permission. His hands moved with a purpose that was both gentle and demanding, pushing my dress up and over my head until I stood before him, bare.
“There,” he murmured, his words vibrating through my skin. “No more games. Just you, just me.”
I shivered, but not from the cold. His eyes roamed over me, taking in every detail as if for the first time. “Every time you fight me, Katria, it makes me try harder. You have a fire in you that no one else has. And that fire is mine; you’re mine.”
He knelt before me, and my breath hitched.
His eyes, dark and possessive, held mine.
“You think I’ll leave you?” he whispered, his voice dangerously soft.
“You think I would let someone else have what’s mine?
” He reached out and traced the skin of my hip.
“Never. This…this is my way of showing you that I’ll never leave.
I’ll never let you go. This is my promise, my bond. ”
He lowered his head, his lips finding my pussy, his hands on my hips, pulling me closer still. I gasped, my head falling back against the wall. The world narrowed to just the two of us, his touch, his breath.
He worked me with a slow, deliberate intensity that was all about control.
There was no tenderness, just a raw, unyielding passion that was designed to break me, to make me surrender completely.
And I did. I couldn’t fight. I couldn’t think.
Every nerve ending in my body was on fire.
I clutched the wall behind me, my nails digging into the cool surface.
My body ached on its own record, a silent, desperate plea. He responded in kind, his movements a punishing rhythm that pushed me to the edge, again and again.
The pleasure burst into a powerful, shattering wave that left me weak and gasping for air. I cried out his name, my body trembling with the force of the climax. I sank down against the wall, utterly spent, but he held me, his hands firm on my hips, keeping me from collapsing.
He looked up at me, his eyes triumphant. “You see?” he said, his voice raw. “You belong to me.”
His eyes, dark and triumphant, locked on mine.
“You belong to me,” he repeated, his voice a low, primal growl. He didn’t wait for a reply. He scooped me into his arms, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carried me to the bed, placing me down with a force that left no doubt about his intent.
I lay there, my body still trembling, watching him. He came over me, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his gaze burning into mine. There was no gentleness now, only raw, unbridled need. This was rough. This was emotional. This was him taking full control.
“You push me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, “and I push back harder. You provoke me, and I take what is mine.” He kissed me then, not softly, but with a fierce, possessive hunger that bruised my lips. His hands were gently caressing my body, demanding and claiming as I let out soft moans.
“Danil,” I whispered softly, my voice barely audible as his touch sparked a new fire in my veins.
My mind was yelling protests, but my body responded differently, singing a song of urgent need and nearly forbidden pleasure.
It was a terrifying conflict. I hated him, but I wanted him.
I fought him, but I yearned for his control.
“You are mine to conquer. Every inch,” he uttered as his hard cock entered me.
He moved, a powerful, insistent force, and I cried out, a mix of pain and pleasure.
This wasn’t about tenderness. This was about ownership.
About breaking me down and then building me back up, a new version of myself, shaped by his touch.
My nails dug into his back, pulling him closer, even as tears pricked at my eyes.
It was a battle, a desperate dance of wills, and in that moment, I lost myself in the fight.
His body moved against mine with a relentless rhyme, driving me higher, faster, pushing me past though, past resistance, into a realm of pure sensation. My breath came in ragged sobs, my hips arching to meet his every thrust. There was no escape, only surrender. Only him.
“Look at me, Katria,” he commanded, his voice thick with raw emotion. “Look at what you did to me. Look what we are.”
My eyes, swimming with tears and desire, found his. They were dark, intense, burning with a shared madness. And in that moment, as our bodies moved as one, as our breaths mingled, I felt an undeniable connection, a bond forged in fire and fury.
The climax hit us simultaneously, a shattering explosion that rocked my entire being. My cry mingled with his guttural groan, a symphony of release. We collapsed against each other, our bodies slick with sweat, our hearts pounding in unison.
He held me tightly, his face buried in my neck, his breath tagged against my skin. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the echoes of our shared intensity.