Page 19 of His Order

He doesn’t wait for my body to adjust. Doesn’t give me a chance to breathe. It’s raw and fast, too much, too fucking much, but I can’t escape it. I don’t want to.

His grip tightens on my waist, pulling me harder against him as he forces himself deeper, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge of something I can’t name. My breath comes in jagged gasps, my chest heaving with each stroke. Every part of me is on fire, consumed by the brutal rhythm he’s set, by the way he owns me, body and soul.

"Feel that?" he snarls, his voice low and demanding. "You’re mine, Anya. All fucking mine."

I don’t respond. I can’t. My mouth is dry, my mind spinning, but my body—my body fucking craves him. I can’t help the moan that slips from my lips, low and desperate, a sound I hate because it means he’s winning. It means he’s got me.

“Say it,” he demands again, his hand sliding up to tighten around my throat, forcing my head back so he can look at me, making sure I’m feeling every fucking inch of him. “Say you’re mine.”

I struggle to keep my eyes on his, the weight of his stare making my pulse race. "I’m not yours," I rasp, though the words feel like a lie as they leave my mouth.

He chuckles darkly, a sound that cuts through the thick, oppressive air around us. “You will come to accept what your body already knows.”

With that, he pulls me off the wall, turning me around and pinning me against him, his hands sliding to my hips as he starts to move again, faster this time. I can barely keep my balance, the force of him pushing me toward the edge of sanity. He doesn’t let up. Not for a second.

My hands grip his shoulders, nails digging into the hard muscles as I try to steady myself. I’m spiraling, falling faster than I can control it, but it’s so fucking good. Every inch of me is alive with the burn of him inside me, the tension building in a way that makes everything feel sharp, electric.

"Tell me you want it," he demands, his voice almost a growl, as he picks up the pace.

I bite my lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction. But when his hand moves between us and his thumb presses against my clit, all the resistance crumbles. A broken gasp escapes me, and I curse, my body trembling under the assault.

"Fucking hell, you’re perfect, Anya," he growls, slamming into me harder.

The words rip through me.

“Please…” I whisper before I can stop myself.

He freezes, his face darkening with satisfaction.

"Please, what?" he demands, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "Tell me exactly what you want."

“Fuck me,” I force out, my voice hoarse, broken. "Please, just fucking fuck me."

That’s all he needs. With a growl, he drives into me harder faster, and I’m drowning in it, in him. My body trembles as his cock plunges into me. One wave after the other, I feel him overpowering me.

The world spins as the tension snaps, and my orgasm rips through me. My body is convulsing out of control.

He doesn’t stop. Even as I come, he keeps going, relentless. He’s not done with me. Not yet.

I’m gasping, clawing at his chest, but he holds me firm, forcing me to take everything he’s giving. And when he finally lets go, when he slams into me one last time, I feel him spill inside me, and everything goes white, the room spinning as he stills, his breath ragged against my ear.

We’re both panting, bodies slick with sweat, the air thick with the aftermath of what just happened. Then his mouth slips next to my ear, and he says: "By the way, you’re mine, little rabbit."

I don’t answer. I can’t because he’s right. In ways, I can’t even admit to myself yet.

Chapter 11

Pavel

I give her one lasting look, savoring the sight of her spent and unable to move. Her chest rises and falls slowly, a silent testament to the furious rhythm that had consumed us. I can see the exhaustion in the way her limbs are strewn, the way her skin glistens, still damp, from the heat between us.

Her state feeds an intoxicating surge of triumph within me. Her fierce spirit, the same that spat curses and rebellion at me, lies subdued for the moment. This is the control I have seized, the dominance I have secured in her submission. Every bead of sweat, every rise and fall of her chest, fuels the fire of my conquest.

I turn away and head towards the door, pulling on my clothes as I go. I don't look back at her, not wanting to break the spell of power I have over her. I know she's watching me, her eyes following my every move. But I don't care. I have what I want.

I open the door and step out into the hallway. I opted to have no guards at this apartment building, wanting to keep her away from their eyes. There are only four people who know she is here. Roman, Victor, Mikhail and me. The less people know, the better. The last thing that we need, especially now with everything coming into play so beautifully.

I take the elevator down to the ground floor, feeling a cool detachment wash over any residual heat. I slip inside my car and let the solitude blanket me, the silence seeping in and settling like a haze of smoke. It’s cleansing, the way it fills the space, purging any lingering thoughts of her from my mind. My focus is renewed, unswayed by what I left behind. What happened upthere, what she might hope it means, is nothing but a fleeting moment already fading into irrelevance. A physical exchange, no more significant than a momentary indulgence, a strategic release of energy meant to keep her under my thumb.

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