Page 27 of Bound in Possession

Her face flushes a deep, brilliant crimson, her heart hammering wildly beneath her chest, but she tries to tear her hand back. "That is your business!" she gets out, her voice shaking despite her best efforts to sound angry. "You're just an insatiable pervert, Maksim!"

A low, throaty chuckle escapes me at her stubbornness. I don't let go of her wrist, keeping her hand pinned against my heat for just a second longer.

"A pervert? Are you sure about that, princess?" I murmur, my gaze dropping to her parted lips before rising to look deep into her eyes. "Are you absolutely sure that if I reached down right now and checked between your thighs, you wouldn’t be completely wet for me? Because I know for a fact you react to me the exact same way."

Camilla scoffs loudly, tilting her head up defensively, though the frantic pulse fluttering in her throat betrays the sheer intensity of the heat building between us.

I don't give her another second to deny it. I bridge the remaining distance between us, slamming my body against hers until she is pinned entirely between the marble vanity and my chest. I tilt her chin up and bury my face in the crook of her neck, my lips finding the sensitive skin right below her ear.

She lets out a sharp, trembling gasp as I press a fierce kiss there, my teeth grazing her skin before I suck hard on her throat, intentionally leaving a dark, possessive mark that will overwrite her father's jewelry.

"M-Maksim, stop," she whimpers, but her hands are gripping the lapels of my suit jacket, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away.

"I told you I'd make you wear my name," I growl against her skin, my voice a deep, gravelly vibration.

While her mind tries to fight me, my hand slides down, disappearing under the high slit of her gown. I don't hesitate. I slide two fingers beneath her lace panties, directly into her heat.

A loud, breathless moan echoes in the locked bathroom as they sink deep inside her, immediately covered in her slick, dripping warmth.

"Look at you," I whisper darkly, leaning up to lock my eyes onto her flushed, dazed face while my fingers pump into her with a slow, ruthless rhythm. "So fucking wet for me, princess. You're practically begging for it, and you still lie to my face?"

"I'm not—" She chokes on her words, her head falling back against the mirror as I quicken the pace, stretching her open, forcing her to ride my fingers.

"You're soaking through my hand, Camilla," I murmur, using the dirtiest, rawest tone just to see her unravel. "You belong to me, and your body knows it. Every single time I touch you, you're ready to take everything I have."

I pick up the pace, my fingers driving deep into her slick heat, deliberately pushing her right to the edge just to watch her composure fracture.

"Are you really going to let Lydia win, princess?" I taunt, my voice a low, mocking vibration against her ear. "Stalking off like a wounded little girl because another woman looked my way? You’re my future wife. Act like it. Own what’s yours or let me show you exactly who you belong to."

She gasps, her fingers digging so hard into my shoulders that I feel her nails through the fabric of my suit. "I don't... care about her," she pants, her voice cracking as the friction builds into a tight, unbearable coil between her thighs.

"Liar," I growl.

As I lean closer, my chest pressing firmly against hers, the hard contour of the weapon hidden beneath her gown presses into my thigh. I let out a dark chuckle, my hand sliding slightly to the side, my thumb deliberately tracing the hard outline of the sheath strapped to her inner leg.

"And what's this, Camilla?" I murmur, my eyes locking onto her dazed, heavy-lidded gaze. "Sticking a blade from my nightstand under your dress? Tell me, princess... do you even know how to use it?"

She tilts her chin up, a sudden spark of her usual defiance fighting through the haze of pleasure clouding her face. "I know enough," she breathes out, her chest heaving against mine. "I know enough to cut anyone who tries to cage me."

"Good," I whisper, a wave of dark pride washing over me. "I like that you have teeth."

I shift my hand back to her center, curving my fingers inside her and thumbing her swollen clit with a ruthless, targeted rhythm. She completely loses her grip, her back arching off the marble vanity as a high, breathless moan rips from her throat. She is trembling violently, her walls squeezing tightly around my fingers, a single second away from completely shattering into a screaming climax.

I abruptly slow my hand down to an agonizingly cruel crawl, holding her right at the precipice of her release.

"Do you want me to keep going, Camilla?" I ask, my voice rough and commanding as I look down at her flushed, undone face. "Tell me you want it. Tell me to finish you."

Even now, trembling and completely at my mercy, her stubborn pride refuses to break. She swallows hard, blinking through the pleasure blinding her, and glares at me with pure defiance. "No."

I smirk, pulling my hand completely away from her heat for the second time tonight.

The sudden coldness makes her gasp, a look of profound, crushing disappointment flashing through her eyes before she can mask it. I grab a towel from the ring, casually wiping my wet fingers as I watch her try to steady her shaking legs and smooth down her rumpled gown.

"Fix yourself up," I command smoothly, turning the lock on the restroom door and stepping out into the corridor. "We're going home."

CHAPTER TWELVE

CAMILLA