Page 26 of Desperate Crimes (Mergers & Acquisitions #6)

I am well fucking aware that I’ve crossed just about every boundary I can with this woman.

There’s one more, though.

One last line.

And when I cross it?

There’s no going back.

“I now pronounce you?—”

Preacher’s voice fades into static as my blood roars in my ears.

Because those words—they break something open inside me.

A dam I’ve been holding back since the night I first laid eyes on her.

And now? Now she’s mine.

Not just in my head.

Not just in my bed.

But on paper. In the eyes of the law.

The same law I studied, mastered, bent to my will.

My lips crash into hers before the words even finish leaving Preacher’s mouth.

I kiss her like I’m branding her, claiming every gasp, every soft moan, every breath like it belongs to me.

Because it does.

She does.

“Stop the car,” I bark.

The driver obeys without hesitation. We jerk slightly as the limo eases to a halt.

“Get out.”

“Of course. Thank you, Mr. Fury.” Preacher nods, already stepping into the other vehicle waiting down the block—just as planned.

No one notices. No one dares to.

I press the button that raises the divider between us and the front.

Privacy. Silence.

Nothing but the heavy thrum of anticipation.

She’s still catching her breath, lips swollen, pupils blown wide.

“You left.”

My voice is low. A blade.

She swallows, sitting a little straighter. “I’m sorry.”

“Not yet, you’re not.”

I lean in, wrap my hand around the back of her neck, and kiss her again—this time slower, deeper.

Drawing out every shaky breath, every small surrender, until she melts against me.

“You don’t walk away from me, Princess. Not now. Not ever.”

I ease her back, guiding her onto my lap, her knees on the seat next to me, my hands gripping her hips like she might vanish again if I let go.

Her dress rides up, soft silk bunching around her thighs.

She’s warm and soft and trembling slightly—but not with fear. No, not with fear.

With anticipation.

“This isn’t just obsession,” I murmur against her throat, kissing the curve of her neck. “This is devotion. And I’m done pretending otherwise.”

Her hands fist in my shirt, her body arching as I shove my hands up her skirt, between her legs.

Fuck.

She’s wet. Fucking soaked.

And she’s already gasping, already clinging.

Already mine.

“Tell me you’re mine,” I demand against her skin.

“I’m yours,” she whispers.

“Louder.”

“I’m yours, Nico.”

That’s better.

That’s everything .

And now that she’s said it?

There’s no more holding back.

Fuck. I’m even more obsessed.

More desperate to have her submit to me.

Wholly. Completely. Eternally.

“Tell me you understand,” I murmur, voice rough. “That you want this. That you understand what it means to be mine.”

Her breath catches, but she doesn’t hesitate.

“I understand, Nico,” she whispers, eyes glassy with need. “I want this. I want you. Please.”

The sound of her begging? It does something to me.

Twists something hot and primal through my gut.

And the proof of her desire—warm and damp through the silk pressed to my palm—nearly makes me lose control.

I hook my fingers into the waistband of her panties, dragging the soft fabric to the side so I can touch her, skimming my fingertips along her thick thighs with aching slowness.

She gasps when the air hits her skin, but she doesn’t stop me.

Doesn’t shy away.

“Good girl,” I tell her and give her silk-covered sex a small tap.

Then I’m moving her, pushing her down, laying her across my lap.

Her dress is still bunched up, and I groan at the sight.

Her ass is perfect— full, lush, made to be touched.

Claimed.

My palm hovers, then drops. Not cruelly.

Just enough to make her feel it.

A sharp little smack that echoes in the silence of the limo like a promise.

She jerks forward, a whimper falling from her lips. But her back arches. She offers herself again.

“You like that, don’t you?” I growl, wrapping my other hand around her throat to keep her steady.

She nods, breathless. “Yes, Nico.”

“Good. Because I’m not done teaching you a lesson. Showing you what it means to be mine.”

Her breath shudders when I stroke the curve of her ass, soft and warm beneath my hand.

I palm it, savoring the way she melts under my touch even after that stinging smack.

She’s trembling, but not from fear.

No, this is something else.

Need. Surrender. Hunger she doesn’t quite know how to name.

I press my palm low on her back and tug her face up with my other hand. Then I lean in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear, my tongue licking her cheek.

“Say it again.”

“I want this,” she breathes. “I want you.”

God help me.

My chest tightens with something brutal and unrelenting, something I barely know how to name.

She’s begging with her body, her voice, her damn soul.

And I’ll give her anything she wants, everything I have.

I will wreck her so thoroughly she never doubts again who she belongs to.

I pull her panties down, sliding my fingers along her crack.

My palm itches for it. Like it’s desperate and aching just to spank her pert ass one more time.

I don’t usually deny myself when I get certain urges, and I won’t this time either.

I lift my hand and drop it down again.

Then I rub, soothing her pink skin, teasing her crack, and sliding even lower to her soaked pussy.

My little Princess likes to be spanked.

And I’m the one who’ll do it. The only one. Just like she deserves.

Because Leanna isn’t some run of the mill ivory tower princess.

No, she’s got depth. She’s got darkness.

She fits me so fucking good.

And right now? As she wiggles and moans, leaking her juices all over my lap, she is begging me to do it again.

“Fuck. Nico! Please,” she whimpers.

“That’s right, Baby. Call my name. Scream it.”

I alternate cheeks.

Spanking one and soothing the other, again. And again.

I tighten my grip on her throat, shoving that thumb inside her hot little mouth.

Her blonde hair is a mass of silky curls, and it looks so good falling down her back, and across my thighs.

Leanna sucks on my thumb harder, taking it deep inside her wet mouth. She moans around the thick digit as I drive two fingers into her cunt and my other thumb teases her asshole.

My dick is so hard, I’m about to blow. But not without her.

Punishment forgotten, I pull my fingers free and drag her against my chest, lift her into my lap so she’s straddling me.

Her knees press into the seat on either side of my thighs, the dress pushed up around her waist, panties torn off and forgotten somewhere on the floor.

She’s already soaked.

I reach between us and undo my pants, freeing my dick.

She mewls.

Fucking mewls.

And I hiss through my teeth, wrapping one hand around her throat, the other gripping her hip.

My eyes lock on hers as I slide her sweet pussy up and down my length.

“No more running, Leanna. You try to leave again, I’ll come find you. Again and again. You’re mine now. You get that?”

She nods, gasping. “Yes. I get it.”

“Good. Because I’m going to ruin you for anyone else.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” she says.

And that’s it.

I can’t take anymore.

I push inside her in one deep, claiming thrust.

She cries out, clutching my shoulders as her head falls back, lips parted in ecstasy.

And fuck me, she’s so fucking wet, so tight—I know her body was built to take only mine.

Every inch I sink deeper, the more I feel it. The rightness of it.

Of us.

I press a kiss to the base of her throat, where her pulse pounds hard beneath my lips.

“Mine. My wife,” I whisper against her skin. “Forever.”

And this time?

She doesn’t fight it. She submits. And even better?

She claims.

“Yours. And you’re mine. My husband.”

Then she tosses her head back and rides the storm she conjured in my blood with me.

And as we come apart together, I know one thing for certain—there’s no going back for either of us.

This is it. This is us.

We’re both Fury now.