Chapter 302

[ 879 words ]

Julian’s POV

The drive back to the estate was silent. She sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window at the blurred lights of the city, her chest rising and falling in quick, uneven patterns. I kept my hand on the gear shift, my knuckles white, the anger still vibrating beneath my skin.

When we arrived at the Windsor estate, I didn’t let her speak. I pulled her out of the car, ignored the staff hovering in the foyer, and marched her up the grand staircase. My focus was singular. I needed to reset the world. I needed to remind her exactly whose air she breathed and whose bed she belonged to.

I shoved the bedroom door open and kicked it shut behind us with a heavy, final thud.

The room was dark, lit only by the sliver of moonlight cutting through the curtains. I turned on her, pressing her back against the heavy wooden door, my hands slamming against the wood on either side of her head.

“You don’t get to choose,” I growled, my face hovering inches from hers. “You don’t get to decide you’re going to ’give him a chance’ when you are already mine, do you understand p>

“Julian, stop,” she gasped, her hands coming up to push against my chest, but I caught her wrists, pinning them easily against the wood.

“I told you,” I hissed, leaning down to trail my lips along the column of her throat, feeling the rapid pulse of her heartbeat against my mouth. “I told you I sleep where you sleep. You are mine, Katia. You were mine before you walked into this house, and you will be mine when you leave it, if that ever happens p>

I didn’t wait for an answer. I didn’t want one. I wanted to feel her, to mark her, to overwrite the memory of his touch with the reality of mine. I ripped the silk of her blouse, the buttons scattering across the floor like teeth. Her skin was cool and trembling, and the scent of her—the scent of home, of danger, of everything I lived for—flooded my senses.

I stripped her; I wasn’t soft. I needed her bare. I needed nothing between us. I pressed my body against hers, my weight pinning her to the door, my hands roaming over her hips and her thighs, mapping the curves I knew by heart. She let out a sharp, ragged sound, her head dropping back against the wood, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Look at me,” I commanded.

She opened her eyes, dark and dilated, reflecting the hunger that mirrored my own.

I didn’t bother with preparation. I wanted the raw reality of the act. I aligned myself with her, my hand guiding my length, and drove into her in one, singular, brutal motion. She gasped, her body surging against mine, her nails digging into my shoulders as she took the full measure of me.

It was intense. It was violent. It was the only way to remind her who she belonged to.

I held her hips, my fingers digging into her soft, yielding flesh, and I set the pace. It wasn’t the slow, lingering exploration we had shared before; this was reclamation. Every thrust was a demand for acknowledgement. Every movement was a reaffirmation of the boundary I had drawn around her.

She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me tighter, her body acting as a vice, clinging to me as if she were drowning and I were the only surface she could reach. She moaned, a low, guttural sound that tore through the quiet of the room, and I answered it with a deeper, more punishing set of movements.

“Who do you belong to, Katia?” I rasped, my voice thick with the effort of control, my eyes locked on hers.

“You,” she sobbed, her grip on me tightening, her head shaking back and forth. “Only you p>

I drove harder, my chest heaving, the sweat slicking our bodies until we were one tangled mass of heat. She was shattered, undone, completely surrendered to the overwhelming reality of my presence.

When I finally reached the end, I didn’t hold back. I took her with me, the release ripping through my frame like a physical strike. I ground into her one last time, pinning her to the door, my muscles locking as I emptied myself into her, marking her, claiming her, and ensuring that every nerve ending she possessed was saturated with the knowledge of who she belonged to.

I stayed there for a long time, my forehead resting against hers, our breathing loud and labored in the darkness. I didn’t move. I didn’t let her go. I felt the slow, steady return of her breath, the way she was finally, fully, mine again.

“You are not going anywhere,” I whispered into the silence. “Not to him. Not to anyone. I sleep where you sleep, Katia. Remember that p>

I lifted her then, carrying her to the bed, and lay down with her still tucked against me, my arm draped over her waist, a sentinel guarding my most precious, most dangerous possession. I was the Windsor, and this was my estate. And tonight, there would be no doubt about who held the keys to her future.

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