Page 27 of In His Name

My other hand explores her body—not to arouse but to remind, to reinforce that every inch of her flesh belongs to me, exists for my pleasure, responds to my touch regardless of her will. She remains passive beneath me, accepting but not participating, embodying the physical surrender without the mental submission I require.

"Not enough," I murmur against her ear, my hand tightening in her hair. "Participation, Hannah. Full engagement. I want your mind present for this, not retreating to whatever sanctuary you've created to escape me."

She stiffens slightly, confirmation that she's been using mental dissociation as a defense mechanism during our couplings. Another strategy that must be eliminated, another barrier between complete possession and the partial control I've established thus far.

"Look at me," I command, waiting until her eyes meet mine. "Stay present. Stay here, with me, experiencing every moment of this. If I sense you retreating, there will be consequences beyond what you can imagine."

I enter her. "Eyes on me," I snap when she looks away. "Feel me inside you," I tell her as I begin to move inside her.

Hannah's gaze flickers, those beautiful eyes searching for escape in the shadows of my bedroom ceiling. She's trying to float away, to separate her mind from what her body is experiencing. I can see it in the way her pupils dilate, in the subtle tensing of her jaw.

"Don't you dare," I growl, gripping her chin between my thumb and forefinger, forcing her attention back to me. "Close your eyes again and I'll make this last all night."

She whimpers, a sound caught between pleasure and defiance. Her fingers clutch at the silk sheets, knuckles whitewith tension. I know what she's doing—building walls, creating distance, trying to pretend this isn't happening to her. That I'm not happening to her.

"You can't escape this, Hannah," I whisper against her ear, driving deeper into her warmth. Her body betrays her, tightening around me even as she tries to mentally flee. "You can't run from what's between us."

I thrust harder, watching her resolve crumble with each movement. Her breathing fractures, short gasps escaping those full lips I've claimed countless times. Sweat glistens on her collarbone, catching the dim light filtering through the curtains.

"This is real," I tell her, my voice a dangerous caress as I increase my pace. "This is us. You're mine, and I need you to feel every second of it."

Her eyes close again—a final, desperate attempt at resistance.

"Look at me," I demand, my voice dropping an octave. My hand slides around her throat, not squeezing, just resting there—a reminder of my control. "See who's inside you. Who owns you."

When her eyes open, they're glassy with unshed tears and something darker, something she doesn't want to admit—desire. Raw and undeniable.

I drive into her relentlessly now, feeling her body respond despite her mind's resistance. Her back arches involuntarily, pressing her breasts against my chest.

"That's it," I murmur, watching the conflict play across her features. "Stop fighting what you feel."

Her breath catches, her body trembling beneath mine as I hit that spot inside her that makes rational thought impossible. Her walls clench around me, her resistance crumbling as pleasure overtakes her defiance.

I suck her neck, her breasts, her chest, leaving hickeys all over her like a crazed animal as I fuck her relentlessly. All the while, her body is arching up into me, begging for me though she’ll never voice the words.

"Who do you belong to?" I demand as I move within her, my rhythm controlled, my focus absolute. "Say it. Mean it."

"You!” she screams. "I belong to you, Dante1”

"Again," I command, increasing the intensity, ensuring her complete attention. "Louder. With conviction."

"I belong to you!" The words burst from her, forced by the physical and psychological pressure I'm exerting. There's surrender in her voice now, real surrender, not just the strategic compliance she's been offering. Something is breaking within her—I can see it in her eyes, feel it in the way her body responds, hear it in the tremor of her voice.

"Come for me," I command, my own control fraying at the edges. "Come while looking in my eyes, knowing exactly who's making you feel this way."

And she does—her body convulsing, eyes locked with mine, her soul exposed in that moment of perfect vulnerability. Her release triggers my own, and I brand her from the inside, marking her as mine in the most primal way possible.

“Stop fighting us,” I tell her, my voice soft but implacable, and then looking down at her, I don’t know what comes over me, but I hear myself begging her, “Please, Hannah.”

Tears slip from the corners of her eyes, tracking silently into her hair. Not tears of physical pain but of something deeper, more fundamental, something that makes my chest ache.

I brush the tears away with my thumb.

Her gaze meets mine, something broken in her eyes that wasn't there before.

I lay down and pull her against my chest.

“Dante…” she says my name softly, but I shush her.

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