Page 33 of Ruthless Desire

"Liar," I growl, nipping at her pulse point. "Your body doesn't lie, solnyshko. It knows who it belongs to."

I can feel her teetering on the edge, her inner walls fluttering around me. Just a little more, and she'll shatter completely. I slide a hand between us, finding her clit with unerring accuracy.

"Come for me," I demand, my voice rough with need. "Let go, Natalie. Let me see you fall apart."

It's like flipping a switch. Natalie cries out, her whole body going taut as her orgasm crashes over her. The sight of her coming undone is enough to push me over the edge. I bury my face in her neck, muffling my roar of completion as I spill inside her.

For a long moment, we stay like that, panting and trembling in the aftermath. Then reality comes crashing back, and Natalie starts to struggle.

"Let me go," she hisses, shoving at my chest. "Get off me, you psycho!"

I pull back just enough to meet her gaze, drinking in the delicious cocktail of fury and reluctant desire I see there. "Now, now," I tsk, brushing a strand of sweat-dampened hair from her face. "Is that any way to talk to the man who just gave you the best orgasm of your life?"

She flushes, a mix of anger and embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "You're delusional. That was – it didn't mean anything."

"Keep telling yourself that, moy voron," I chuckle, finally setting her down. "Maybe one day you'll actually believe it."

I take a moment to admire the picture she makes – hair mussed, skin flushed, my cum trickling down her thighs. She's never looked more beautiful, more utterly mine.

"Come," I say, offering her my hand. "Let's get you cleaned up and settled in. You've had quite the adventurous night."

Natalie eyes my hand like it's a venomous snake. "I'm not going anywhere with you," she spits. "I'd rather sleep in the fucking forest."

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Always so difficult. Have it your way, then."

In one smooth motion, I scoop her up and throw her over my shoulder. She shrieks, pounding her fists against my back as I carry her inside.

"Put me down, you Caveman!" she yells, kicking ineffectually.

I land a sharp smack on her ass, relishing her outraged gasp. "Behave," I warn, "or I'll have to take more drastic measures."

She falls silent at that, though I can feel the waves of hatred radiating off her. It only serves to stoke the fire of my obsession.

When we reach the master suite, I deposit her none too gently on the bed. She immediately scrambles backwards, putting as much distance between us as possible.

"Now then," I purr, crawling onto the bed. "Where were we?"

The next few hours pass in a blur of sensation. I take Natalie again and again, in every position imaginable. I wring orgasm after orgasm from her trembling body until she's an incoherent, boneless mess.

And still, it's not enough. I want more. I want everything.

As dawn breaks, I finally allow myself to succumb to exhaustion. I gather Natalie's limp form against me, burying my face in her hair.

"Mine," I murmur, more to myself than to her. "All mine."

She doesn't respond, already lost to sleep. But that's alright. I have all the time in the world to make her see the truth of my words.

The next few weeks are a delicate dance as I keep Natalie off-balance, never letting her settle into a routine. Some days, I'm the doting captor – bringing her breakfast in bed, showering her with gifts and tender touches. Other days, I'm the cold, ruthless don she first met – leaving her alone for hours, acknowledging her only with clipped commands and icy stares.

Through it all, I watch. I wait. I catalog every minute reaction, every flicker of emotion that crosses her expressive face.

But Natalie proves to be more resilient than I anticipated. No matter how I alternately pamper and punish her, that stubborn spark of defiance refuses to die. She fights me at every turn – hurling insults, attempting to escape, even trying to turn my staff against me.

It's maddening. Infuriating. And so fucking arousing I can barely think straight.

One month into her captivity, I decide it's time for more drastic measures. I enter her room unannounced, finding her curled up with a book from my library.

"Get dressed," I order, tossing a garment bag onto the bed. "We're going out."

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