Page 75 of Misconducts & Temptation

The sight of her submitting to me like that pushed me to the edge. I lost myself in the rhythm of our bodies moving together, each thrust bringing us closer to the brink.

“You’re mine,” I whispered harshly against her lips. “All fucking mine.”

She cried out as she reached her climax, her body convulsing around me. The sensation was overwhelming, pulling me over the edge with her. My release hit hard and fast, a wave of intense pleasure that left me breathless.

We stayed locked together for a moment, riding out the aftershocks of our shared orgasm. Her nails were still embedded in my back, and I welcomed the lingering sting—it grounded me in reality.

Finally, we collapsed against each other, spent but content. For once in my life, I felt something real—something that made all the bullshit worth enduring.

I kissed her face, then her neck, feeling the shiver that ran through her body. The reaction was intoxicating.

"Why… why did you call me that?" she asked shyly, her voice barely above a whisper.

I looked at her, taking in the uncertainty in her eyes. "There's nothing to be ashamed of," I told her, my voice firm. "You should be my whore. I'm your husband."

She looked at me with wide eyes. "But… doesn't it mean?—"

I cut her off with another kiss, this one deeper and more demanding. "It means you belong to me," I told her when I pulled back. "It means you want to please me."

She pursed her lips and nodded slowly. "You won't call me that?—"

"Anywhere but when my dick's inside of you," I replied, a smirk playing on my lips. "I like to talk during sex."

Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and she looked away for a moment before meeting my gaze again.

"And I know you like it when I do," I whispered, my breath warm against her skin. "You like when I call you names. You like when I tell you you're mine."

She looked at me, speechless but not needing to say anything. Her eyes told me everything.

Suddenly, an overwhelming urge to kiss her washed over me again. I leaned in and captured her lips with mine, feeling the connection between us intensify.

I didn't know how I'd wound up with Elodie as my wife, but in that moment, I was grateful. She was mine, and I would never let her go.

The kiss deepened, our bodies pressed together as if trying to merge into one. Her hands roamed over my back, pulling me closer still. The intensity of our connection was unlike anything I'd ever experienced.

I pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes once more. "You're mine," I murmured softly against her lips. "Always."

Chapter 23

Elodie

Keaton drove us back to the mansion, the silence between us heavy and thick. I was still breathless, my mind reeling from what had just happened. Intimacy had always seemed like a distant concept to me, something I read about in books or overheard in whispered conversations. But now, it was real, tangible, and it left me both confused and exhilarated.

"What?" Keaton asked gruffly, his eyes flicking toward me briefly before focusing back on the road.

I hesitated, unsure how to put my thoughts into words. "Does it always feel that way?" My voice sounded small, almost timid.

Keaton grabbed a cigarette from the console and dangled it from his lips. He didn't light it; it hung there like an unspoken question. He stared out the window for a long moment before answering.

"No," he murmured, almost too quietly to hear.

The rest of the ride back to the manor was steeped in silence. I stared out my own window, watching the dark landscape blur past, trying to make sense of the feelings swirling inside me. The night air felt cold against my skin, so different from the warmth that lingered from our closeness.

As we pulled up to the grand gates of the mansion, Keaton finally broke the silence. "We're here," he said flatly, killing the engine. He didn't look at me as he spoke, his expression masked by shadows.

I nodded, fumbling with my seatbelt. The reality of where I was and what lay ahead began to sink in again. The brief escape we'd shared now seemed like a fragile dream ready to shatter under the weight of my everyday life.

We stepped out of the car and walked up to the imposing front door. Keaton's footsteps were steady and sure, while mine felt hesitant and uncertain. He pushed open the door without ceremony, leading us back into the world where our roles were clearly defined: him as the powerful heir, me as just another girl caught in his orbit.

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