Chapter 115 Possession
Julian: POV
I stayed inside her even after I came.
My cock pulsed with the aftershocks, her inner walls still fluttering around me.
She was crying—not the loud, broken sobs from earlier, but quiet tears that slid down her temples and disappeared into her hair.
"Let me go," she whispered again. "Please, Julian. Just let me go."
No.
The word screamed through my head, but I didn't say it.
Instead, I pulled out slowly—she gasped at the loss—and scooped her up before she could scramble away.
"What are you—" She tried to push at my chest, but her arms were weak. Exhausted. "Put me down."
"Not yet." I adjusted her weight, hooking one arm under her thighs and the other around her back. Her legs instinctively wrapped around my waist. My cock, still half-hard and slick with our combined fluids, pressed against her ass. "We're not done."
"Julian—"
"Bathroom," I said, carrying her across the room. "You need to see something."
She stiffened. "See what?"
I didn't answer. Just kicked open the bathroom door and flicked on the light. The mirror above the sink reflected both of us—her flushed face, swollen lips, hair a mess. And me, holding her like she was mine.
Because she is.
I set her down in front of the mirror, her back to my chest. She tried to turn away, but I caught her chin.
"Look," I commanded.
"I don't want to—"
I slid my hand between her legs. She jerked, a sharp inhale catching in her throat.
"Look at yourself," I repeated, my fingers finding her clit. She was still so wet. "Look at what I do to you."
Her eyes squeezed shut.
"Elena." My voice was rough. Warning. "Open your fucking eyes."
She did. Slowly. And what I saw in the mirror—that mix of shame and arousal and fury—made my cock harden fully again.
"That's it." I rubbed slow circles, watching her face in the reflection. Her lips parted. A small, helpless sound escaped. "See that? See how your body responds to me?"
"Stop..." But her hips rocked forward, seeking more pressure.
"You think he could make you feel this way?" I bit out, my free hand sliding up to cup her breast. Her nipple was hard against my palm. "You think Ethan could fuck you until you're shaking? Until you're begging?"
She tried to turn her head. I caught her jaw, forced her to keep looking.
"Answer me."
"Fuck you," she choked out.
I pinched her clit. She cried out, knees buckling. I held her up easily, my arm banding around her waist.
"Wrong answer." I turned her head toward me, catching her mouth in a brutal kiss. She whimpered—whether in protest or need, I didn't care.
My tongue pushed past her lips, claiming every inch. She tasted like salt and desperation.
When I pulled back, we were both breathing hard.
She bent. Her palms flat on the counter, face turned to the side so she could still see the mirror. I kicked her legs apart, positioned myself behind her.
My cock nudged her entrance. She tensed.
"Relax," I murmured, one hand stroking up her spine. "You know you want this."
"I hate you."
"I know." I pushed in slowly. Inch by inch. Watching her face in the mirror as her mouth fell open. "But your pussy doesn't lie."
She was so tight. Still swollen and sensitive from earlier. I groaned, bottoming out inside her.
"Fuck."
"Julian..." Her voice broke. "Please..."
"Please what?" I pulled back, thrust in hard. She gasped. "Please stop? Please fuck you harder?"
I didn't wait for an answer. Just started moving—deep, punishing strokes that made her whole body jolt. The counter edge dug into her hips. Her fingers scrabbled for purchase on the smooth surface.
"Watch," I growled, grabbing her hair and forcing her head up. "Watch yourself getting fucked by me."
In the mirror, I could see everything. The way her tits bounced with each thrust. The flush spreading down her neck and chest. The tears still sliding down her face.
And me—jaw clenched, eyes dark, looking like a man possessed.
Because I am.
Possessed by her. By the need to make her remember who she belongs to.
"See that?" I panted, slamming into her. "See who's inside you? Making you feel this way?"
"Stop—" But her hips pushed back to meet me.
"Can he do this?" Another hard thrust. "Can he make you this wet? This desperate?"
"Shut up—"
I reached around, found her clit again. She cried out, her inner walls clenching around me.
"Admit it," I demanded. "Admit you're mine."
"No..."
I rubbed faster. Fucked her harder. Her legs started shaking.
"Admit it, Elena. Say you're mine."
"I'm not—oh god—"
"Say it!"
"You bastard!" She screamed it as she came, her whole body convulsing. Her pussy locked around my cock like a vice. I felt her wetness dripping down my thighs.
"That's right." I kept thrusting through her orgasm, prolonging it. "Come on my cock. Let me feel it."
She was sobbing now. Full, broken sobs that shook her shoulders. But her body kept responding—kept squeezing me, milking me.
"See?" I kissed her shoulder blade. "Your body knows who it belongs to."
"I hate you," she whispered.
"I know." I pulled her upright, back against my chest. My hand wrapped around her throatg. Claiming. "But I'm not letting you go."
I came inside her again. Hard. My vision went white. I buried my face in her neck, groaning her name.
Elena. Elena. Elena.
When I finally stopped shaking, I realized she'd gone completely still.
"Baby?" I loosened my grip on her throat. "You okay?"
No answer.
"Elena?"
"Just..." Her voice was flat. Dead. "Just get out of me."
Fuck.
I pulled out slowly, carefully. She didn't move. Didn't look at me.
"Come on." I turned her around, trying to meet her eyes. "Let's get you cleaned up."
"I can do it myself."
"Let me help."
"I said I can do it—"
"Let me fucking help you."
She flinched. I immediately softened my tone.
"Please." I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Let me take care of you."
She stared at me for a long moment. Then, finally, she nodded.
I turned on the shower, waited for the water to warm. When steam started fogging the mirror, I guided her under the spray.
She stood there like a ghost. Arms limp at her sides. Eyes unfocused.
What have I done?
I grabbed the soap, lathered my hands. Started washing her—gently now. So fucking gently. Her shoulders. Her back. Between her legs, where I'd left my mark.
She didn't protest. Didn't react at all.
"I'm sorry," I murmured, rinsing the soap away. "I'm so fucking sorry."
"For what?" Her voice was hollow. "For raping your ex-wife?"
"I didn't—" I stopped. Had I? "You wanted it too."
"Did I?" She finally looked at me. Her eyes were empty. "Or did you just fuck me until my body forgot how to say no?"
Jesus Christ.
"Elena—"
"Save it." She turned her face into the spray. "Just... just finish washing me so I can sleep."
I did. In silence. Shampooed her hair. Rinsed it out. Dried her off with a towel.
She let me dress her in one of the hotel robes. Let me guide her back to the bed.
But when I tried to lie down beside her, she kicked out—her foot catching me in the ribs.
"Ow—what the fuck?"
"Don't." She pulled her knees to her chest. "Don't you dare lie next to me like everything's fine."
I caught her ankle before she could kick again. Brought it to my mouth. Pressed a kiss to her arch.
"Good girl," I murmured. "Get it all out."
She stared at me like I'd lost my mind.
Maybe I had.
I crawled into bed anyway, pulling her into my arms. She fought—elbows jabbing, fists hitting—but I just held on.
"Let go—"
"No." I buried my face in her hair. Breathed her in. "No."
"Julian—"
"Stay," I whispered. "Just stay with me tonight. Please."
She went still. "What?"
"I can't sleep anymore." My voice broke. "Not since you walked away. Not since—" The words wouldn't come. Not since I lost you.
She froze for a moment, then I held her tighter. "Don't leave me."