Page 21

I step out of the bathroom, the lace of the red dress clinging to my skin. It’s revealing, too much for me to feel comfortable. My fingers hover near the hem, tugging slightly, as if pulling it down will somehow make me feel less exposed. The soft click of the door shutting behind me sends a jolt of awareness through my body.

Timur is already in the room, sitting on the edge of the bed, his sharp blue eyes tracking my every move. His expression shifts the moment he sees me, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches me, his gaze dark and intense, like a hunter assessing his prey.

I take a step forward, hesitantly. “I feel ridiculous,” I mutter, barely able to meet his eyes.

His grin only widens as he stands up, moving toward me with a deliberate slowness that makes my heart race. “Let go of the dress,” he orders quietly, his voice deep, dangerous.

For a moment, I hesitate, clutching the lace tighter in my fingers. Something in his gaze, the way he’s looking at me like he owns me, makes me drop my hands to my sides, exposing myself fully. The air feels too thick, the tension between us almost unbearable.

He stops right in front of me, his eyes roaming over my body in a way that makes my skin burn. “Now that’s better,” he murmurs, his voice rough with approval. His fingers brush along the side of my arm, trailing heat in their wake. “I want to see you, Jennifer. All of you.”

My breath hitches as his hand moves to my waist, pulling me closer. His touch is firm, but not painful, just enough to remind me of the control he has over me. I want to push him away, to stop this from happening, but at the same time, I can’t deny the thrill that courses through me. It’s maddening, how my body reacts to him, how much I’ve craved his touch despite everything.

“You know,” he says, leaning down, his breath hot against my neck, “I’ve missed this. Missed you.”

The admission startles me, and for a brief second, I think I see something softer flicker in his eyes. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that familiar, dominating presence.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice is quieter now, though no less dangerous. “About everything?”

I swallow hard, trying to push back the lump in my throat. “I was going to… until you killed Russel,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “After that, I couldn’t. I couldn’t trust you.”

Timur’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he pulls me closer, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “I told you not to run from me, didn’t I?”

I close my eyes, feeling the heat of his body press against mine, the tension winding tighter between us. “I had no choice.”

His fingers grip my waist tighter, possessively, as he presses me up against the wall, pinning me there. “If you had no choice but to run, you should understand that I had no choice but to chase you.”

I feel my pulse quicken as his mouth moves dangerously close to mine, our breaths mingling. I don’t know if I’m terrified or desperately wanting him to close the distance. His eyes burn into mine, making it impossible to look away.

“It’s all fine now,” he whispers, his lips brushing against mine, teasing me, daring me to resist him. “You’re here now, with me. That’s what matters.”

I can feel the weight of his words, the finality in them, and it’s terrifying. He leans in, his mouth just inches away from mine, and for a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me, to claim me in the way he always does. My breath catches, my body betraying me once again as I lean into him, craving that contact.

His lips hover near mine, so close I can feel his breath, warm and teasing against my skin. The anticipation coils tight in my chest, every nerve in my body sparking with an unbearable tension. I know I should pull away. I know I should resist. As his mouth finally, finally claims mine, I crumble. It’s soft at first, a brush of lips that’s almost gentle, coaxing me to respond.

And I do.

My hands find their way to his chest, clutching at his shirt, and the kiss deepens. His hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, and my knees feel weak, as though the floor beneath me is slipping away. I’ve kissed him before, but this is different. There’s no harshness, no possessive aggression. It’s… sweet. Tender, even. His lips move slowly, savoring every second, like he’s drawing something out of me I didn’t even know I had left to give.

I let out a small, breathless sigh, and his grip tightens, pulling me further into him. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, and when I open for him, it feels like a surrender. Like I’m offering more than just my body, but every part of myself I’ve tried to keep hidden. My heart races, pounding in my chest, and I can’t think. I can’t focus on anything except the way he feels against me, how perfectly our bodies fit together.

His other hand slides down my side, over the curve of my waist, then lower, pulling me flush against him. I can feel the heat radiating from his body, the way he’s holding back, controlling himself with an effort I can sense. This time, there’s no roughness, no demands. Just him, guiding me gently, making me feel wanted in a way that makes me want to give him everything.

My breath hitches as his hand cups my face, thumb brushing over my cheek with an almost unbearable softness. I break the kiss for a second, my lips tingling from the intensity, but he doesn’t let me pull away far. His forehead rests against mine, and for a moment, it feels like the world has shrunk down to just the two of us.

“Jennifer,” he murmurs, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. His lips trail along my jaw, down to the sensitive spot beneath my ear, and I shiver. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

I can barely respond, my head spinning, lost in the way he’s touching me. The way his lips press soft, open-mouthed kisses down the side of my neck. “I can’t…,” I breathe, but I don’t know what I’m trying to say. Maybe that I can’t resist him. Maybe that I can’t deny how much I’ve missed him, how much I’ve wanted this, despite everything.

His hands slide down to my hips, holding me in place as he pulls back slightly, his eyes locking with mine. The intensity in them is undeniable, but there’s something new there. A warmth I haven’t seen before. It’s unnerving, and yet, I can’t look away.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, his voice husky, like he’s holding back a storm. His eyes flick down, taking in the red lace dress that clings to my body. I feel my cheeks heat up, embarrassed by how exposed I am in front of him, but the way he looks at me makes me feel powerful. Like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

His fingers trail along the edge of the dress, skimming my skin, and I shiver. “I like this,” he murmurs, his voice lower now. “I think I want it off.”

A rush of heat floods my body at his words, and I bite my lip, trying to keep control of myself. But the way he’s touching me, the way his gaze is eating me up, makes it impossible to resist. My hands shake as I reach for the zipper at the back, but he stops me, his fingers curling around mine.

“Let me,” he whispers, his breath hot against my ear. His hand moves to the zipper, and with agonizing slowness, he begins to pull it down. Every inch of my skin that’s revealed to him feels like it’s burning, the air between us charged with a tension that’s almost unbearable.

The dress slides off my shoulders, pooling at my feet, and I’m left standing in front of him, bare, vulnerable. His eyes drink me in, moving over every inch of me, and I feel exposed in a way that’s more than physical.

I should feel embarrassed, but instead, there’s a thrill that courses through me. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he’s looking at me now. It’s possessive, yes, but there’s something deeper. Something raw and undeniable.

I don’t push him away. I can’t. The truth is, I’ve never felt like this with anyone else, and as much as I want to deny it, I want him too. More than I should.

His lips brush against mine again, and this time, the kiss is softer, slower. Like he’s savoring the moment. Like he’s claiming me in a way that leaves no room for doubt.

I let him.

His lips move against mine with a controlled urgency, the kind that lets me know he’s in no rush, that he has all the time in the world to make me feel every inch of his dominance. It’s intoxicating, the way his body presses into mine, his hands rough and sure as they roam over my skin, taking what he wants, but in a way that makes my head spin. I try to push away the thoughts, the fear of what I’m doing, but it’s impossible when every touch from him pulls me deeper into the heat between us.

His fingers dig into my hips, and I know there will be bruises tomorrow. Timur likes to leave his mark, likes to remind me that I’m his, but tonight there’s something softer about the way he handles me. He pulls me closer, a hand sliding up my back, tangling in my hair as he tilts my head back, exposing my neck to his mouth. I gasp as his lips trail over my skin, teeth grazing my pulse point, but there’s no bite, no sharp pain. Just the slow, deliberate claiming of his lips on my throat.

I shiver, the heat building between my thighs as he shifts, positioning himself over me. He watches me closely, his eyes dark and full of something I can’t quite place. “Do you feel that?” he whispers against my skin, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “That’s how you’re supposed to feel when you’re with me.”

His cock digs into the inside of my thighs. Hard. He shifts, and I bite back a moan as he brushes my folds.

I nod, not trusting my voice, not trusting myself to speak. Every part of me is on fire, my nerves alight under his hands. He lifts my wrists above my head, pinning them down with one strong hand. His touch is rough, leaving marks where his fingers press into my skin, but instead of fear, all I can feel is desire. It pulses through me, undeniable, and I hate that he has this control over me. That he can make me want him like this, even after everything.

“You like it, don’t you?” His voice is a low rumble, thick with satisfaction. “You like how I take what’s mine.”

His words send a surge of heat through me, and I bite my lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a response. He always knows. He grins, his teeth grazing my collarbone, and I arch into him, craving more, hating how much I need it.

“Tell me, Jennifer.” His tone is commanding, sharp. “Tell me you want this.”

I swallow hard, my chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. “I want it,” I whisper, barely audible, but it’s enough for him.

He moves his hand lower, his grip firm but not painful, as if he’s reminding me of his control while still giving me something softer. His lips brush mine again, but this kiss is gentler, almost sweet, and I find myself melting under it, letting him in deeper than I should. His hand cups my breast, his thumb circling the sensitive peak until I moan into his mouth, arching into him, the tension between us growing unbearable.

“I knew you’d like this,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “I’m going to make sure you enjoy every second.”

His words hang in the air, thick with promise, and I’m not sure if I’m trembling from fear or anticipation. Maybe it’s both. His fingers slide lower, teasing, and I can’t stop the soft gasp that escapes me when he touches me, the heat of his hand igniting something deep inside me. My body betrays me, hips lifting to meet his hand, and I hate that I’m so eager for him, so desperate for his touch.

“Good girl,” he growls, his voice thick with satisfaction. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

When he enters me, it takes every ounce of self-control not to call out his name. He fills me effortlessly, stretching me so wide that I can hardly think. He sets an agonizing pace, pounding into me as I gasp and arch into his touch.

The pressure builds, and I’m on the edge, arousal coiling tight in my stomach. He pulls back just as I’m about to fall over the edge, his hand leaving my body, and I whimper in frustration, glaring up at him.

“Not yet,” he says, his voice teasing but firm. “You don’t get to come until I say so.”

The intensity in his eyes makes my heart race, and I nod, biting my lip to stifle another moan. He leans down, his mouth brushing mine as he whispers, “You do what I say, when I say it. That includes your pleasure. Understood?”

I nod again, feeling my pulse thrum beneath my skin, the heat between us unbearable. His hand trails down my body again, slower this time, teasing, and I arch into him, unable to help myself.

His grip tightens on my wrists, just enough to remind me that I’m his, and I let out a soft, breathless moan as he moves against me, his body pressed tightly to mine. The roughness in his touch is still there, but it’s laced with something more tonight, something that makes my skin tingle with anticipation.

“Good girl,” he murmurs again, and my heart races.

His lips crash down on mine, hard and possessive, the kiss stealing my breath. There’s no softness now, no hesitation. It’s raw and primal, a reminder that I belong to him in every way that matters. His grip tightens as his hands roam over me, pulling me closer until I’m completely at his mercy, completely his.

He grips my thighs, spreading me wide beneath him, and I gasp at the sudden roughness, my fingers clutching at the sheets as my body responds to him. He leans down, his mouth hovering just above mine, his breath mingling with mine as he growls, “You’ll never leave me again, Jennifer. I won’t allow it.”

I gasp, unable to speak, the heat between us consuming every thought. His hands roam my body with a possessiveness that sends a thrill through me. Even now, even after everything, I want him. I hate that I do, but I can’t deny the way my body burns for him, the way he makes me feel.

“You belong to me,” he says, his voice deep and commanding, and I feel the truth of it in my bones.

His hands tighten on my hips, snapping me flush against him as my whole body quivers, and I can feel the bruising grip of his fingers, the way he stakes his claim on my skin. He’s rough, but not in a way that hurts, in a way that leaves me craving more. His lips follow his hands, leaving a trail of heat as they move lower, his kisses turning rougher, more demanding.

Somehow he drives me faster, until my thighs ache and my pussy feels raw, but I still need more. I moan, my body arching into his, giving him everything he wants, everything he demands. There’s no space between us now, no room for hesitation or second thoughts.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice full of satisfaction. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

I swallow, my heart pounding in my chest, unsure of how to respond. There’s a softness in his voice that I’ve never heard before, and it makes something inside me flutter even as my body aches.

We come in tandem, my whole body singing his praise as my orgasm takes over; I strangle a gasp as he pumps his seed into me, my vision going white.

Silence settles over us in the aftermath. He withdraws his cock, and I whine in complaint at the emptiness.

Then, Timur pushes me back against the bed, his body covering mine as he leans down, his lips brushing against my ear. “You’ll remember this,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, “every time you look at those bruises, you’ll remember who you belong to.”

My breath catches in my throat as he moves against me, his grip tightening on my hips, and I can feel the heat building between us, the tension reaching its breaking point.

I lose myself in him, in the way he touches me, the way he makes me feel. It’s overwhelming, consuming.

When it’s over, he lies beside me, pulling me against him, his arm wrapped possessively around my waist. I feel his breath against the back of my neck, steady and calming, but the weight of his presence makes me wonder…

What now?