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I was lying there, feeling small beneath him, when his hand wrapped around my neck. The pressure wasn’t enough to hurt, but it was a clear message. I couldn’t breathe. His control was absolute, suffocating.
“Understand?” he asked, his fingers tightening just enough to send a jolt of panic through me.
The fear ignited anger within me, and without thinking, my hand flew up, connecting with his cheek in a hard slap. The sound echoed in the room like a warning shot, and for a second, we were both stunned.
“I’m not your property, Tristan,” I spat out, the words sharp and defiant. “I’m still me, and I want to help you, not hide behind you!”
His response was quick, a growl of frustration as he caught both my wrists in one hand, pinning them above my head. “Helping me means keeping yourself safe first, Adriana,” he said, pushing me back down as I struggled against him. “Don’t you get it? You’re my heart outside my body. And if you get hurt, or if you get the twins hurt…”
I tried to wriggle out of his grip, but he was too strong. My body buckled under him as I tried to break free, but he was immovable, his strength too much as he pushed me back down.
“Please, Tristan,” I pleaded, my voice breaking with emotion. “I need to be part of this life with you, not just a bystander. You need to let me make decisions too.”
My eyes searched his for understanding, for a sign that he saw me as an equal and not just a vessel for his legacy.
He paused, searching my face, the storm in his eyes swirling with conflict. Finally, he released my wrists, but his presence remained heavy over me. He was sweet to me, sure, but this was a reminder of the power he had over me.
“Listen to me, Adriana,” he said, his voice low and intense. “Your place is by my side, but that doesn’t mean in the line of fire. You have to trust me to protect what’s mine—and that’s you and our children.”
I lay there, the aftermath of our struggle leaving a tightness in my chest. Outside, the wind howled, and the rain clattered against the roof and rattled the windows.
“Promise me, Ade,” he whispered, brushing a kiss against my forehead, a stark contrast to the severity of moments before. “Promise me you’ll stay safe for our family.”
“Okay,” I relented, the fight draining from me as I realized this wasn’t a battle I could win—not now. “I promise.”
His features softened momentarily, as if my acquiescence offered him some solace. But the storm within him had not yet abated; it lingered like the tempest outside, ready to spill over once more. He lingered above me, his silhouette framed by the gray light of dawn seeping through the window.
“Ade,” he began again, his tone a dark melody that sent shivers down my spine despite the warmth of the room. “You keep promising, but you don’t seem to understand the importance of listening, of obedience in our world. I need to be certain you’ll heed my words.”
The towel came open and I was suddenly totally exposed to him.
I nodded, but the gesture wasn’t enough for him. His hand reached down, and I felt the soft slap against my already sensitive flesh, his palm on my clit for just a second. It was a reprimand, a startling sensation that made my breath catch. The strike was not harsh, but it echoed a warning as clear as the clap of thunder outside.
“Are you going to do this again?” he asked, slapping my pussy again, a little harder this time.
“No,” I breathed out, the sudden shock melting into a spreading warmth in my lower belly. My body responded to his touch in spite of the situation, awakening a familiar hunger.
“Good,” he murmured, his hand returning to stroke me gently, causing my body to shudder beneath his touch. “You’re mine, Adriana. I can’t lose you.”
His fingers moved with a knowing expertise that left me squirming beneath him, the fear and anger from moments before slowly seeping away as pleasure began to build. He circled his thumb over my clit, lightly, slowly. Until he slapped my pussy again, a little sharper this time.
It made me whimper. “I’d rather have you pissed at me than in mortal danger,” he said.
“Just remember that,” he added, his voice a low growl as he continued his ministrations. His touch was all over me, rough then gentle, a contradiction that mirrored his own character. It was overwhelming, consuming, and under the weight of his gaze and the insistence of his hands, I forgot about our argument, my fear.
“Who do you come to when you’re in danger?” he asked.
Before I could answer, he smacked my pussy hard. “Fuck!” I said.
And again.
“Answer me, Adriana,” he demanded, his tone sharp as he delivered another stern slap. His fingers resumed their careful circling, building the warmth back up within me.
“You,” I gasped, my body aching for release. “I come to you.”
“Good girl,” he murmured, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. His thumb moved faster over my clit now, keeping the rhythm while his other hand explored the rest of my body, claiming each inch as his own. “And don’t you ever forget that.”
My mind was swimming with sensation, every touch sending jolts through my system. Outside, the storm had grown louder, each clap of thunder matching the pounding in my head.
