Chapter 59
DAPHNE
I’m angry.
No, scratch that. I’m fucking pissed.
At my mother, yeah, because–well, I’ve been pissed at her my whole cursed life. But more than that by several orders of magnitude is the single name pounding through me with every beat of my pulse.
Pasha.
To steal a phrase from Ophelia: how dare he? How dare he collar me like some fucking mutt? I didn’t
consent to this shit!
Consent. Ha! Does he even know what that is? Or does he just dance through life openly manipulating everyone and everything into doing what he wants?
That thought makes me freeze in my tracks.
Did he manipulate me into believing that he was some kind of hero, just to get in my pants? I’d believe it if anyone told me that’s exactly what happened. The Pasha I met at the auction and the Pasha currently lording over my every inch of existence seem like two entirely different people.
I find charm attractive. Smiles. A great sense of humor. I don’t sleep with insufferable egos.
The back of my mind whispers, Conrad, as a reminder of how I have absolutely slept with insufferable ego aplenty, but I shove that shit back down and tell it to shut the fuck up.
I don’t have time to dig into the past.
I need to put my foot down in the here and now.
I shudder as I enter the penthouse. You know, the one he manipulated me into. Corralled like cattle. At this point, it’s amazing to me that he hasn’t just whipped out a hot poker and told me to bend over so he can stamp his name right on my damn ass cheek.
Teeth clenched, I charge into the steamed–up bathroom and rip open the shower door.
“Did you brand me?”
Pasha wipes his eyes. “The hell are you talking about?”
Boyfriend Let His Side Chick Ruin My Painting, Now He Regrets
51.3%
Chapter 59
“This!” I rip off the necklace, ignoring the painful pinch at the back of my neck where the clasp breaks open. “Is this a fucking collay? Like I’m some property you can just tag as yours? Finders fucking keepover
He sighs. “Daph”
“No. None of this ‘Daph, listen‘ bullshit. I want the truth! Did you mark me? With this?” I shake my fist at him, the necklace dangling from my clenched fingers.
His jaw clenches. I have to make a solid effort to ignore the way the hot water is dripping down his
muscular chest and washboard abs and…
No. No distractions. I’m not going to be manipulated by this pretty man again.
Pasha, however, has other ideas.
He grabs me by the waist and hauls me into the shower, ignoring my yelp of surprise when he moves me under the spray before pinning me to the wall.
“Of course I marked you.” He says it like it’s the most obvious, acceptable thing in the world.
I need to be angry. I should shove against him and tell him to stay the hell away from me.
But if I touch him, I’ll be touching his chest. His naked, warm, wet chest.
It doesn’t help that he’s caged me in. He’s bracing his hands against the wall on either side of my head, and I get the impression that if I were to try to duck under them, he’d just catch me and shove me right back to where I am.
And, God help me, there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to leave at all.
“Well, don’t!” I clench my fists and keep them at my sides. I won’t give in to the growing temptation hammering at the back of my brain. “I am not your property!”
“No,” he agrees, “but you are the mother of my child.” “Like that has anything to do with it!”
“It has everything to do with everything.” The most infuriating thing about this confrontation is how goddamn calm Pasha remains, whereas I’m moments away from screeching like a vulture and slapping that smirk off his face. “If you think I’m going to let you wander around the city unprotected and unmarked, you’ve lost your damn mind.”
My bottom lip trembles. I don’t know if it’s more rage or my willpower crumbling, but he notices. He notices and locks his gaze on my mouth, heat flaring in his eyes.
“Do you not realize how fucking tempting you look?” Pasha lowers his hands, but only to graze down my sides and pin me closer to the wall with his body. “Do you not even notice the way men stare at you, just as hungry for you and your beautiful moans as I am?”
51.5%
Chapter 59
My breath catches in my throat.
Can’t say I’ve noticed that in particular, nope.
“So forgive me,” he drawls sarcastically without an ounce of actual apology, “for wanting to make sure that no one in their right mind gives in to any wrong
any wrong ideas,”
I swallow back a moan. His hands keep rubbing, stroking, caressing me as he speaks.
“You’re mine,” Pasha rumbles in my ear. “And I can think of so many different ways to make sure the whole world knows it. This is only the beginning,”
I scoff, but only so he doesn’t notice how close I am to moaning. “Is this just some one–way street, then?”
He pulls back, but only far enough to look me in the eyes. Like he’s waiting for me to do something
Like he’s waiting for me to answer that question for him.
My lips crush against his in a searing, angry kiss. I don’t just thread my fingers through his wet hair–I tug and pull him to me so he knows I’m not playing around.
He wants to stake his claim? Fine. I’m staking mine.
I suck on his tongue until I feel him moan. Only then do I ease up enough to nibble and tease around his mouth. Pasha presses me harder against the wall and wastes no time in peeling off my soaked dress, careful around my baby bump but possessive and firm everywhere else he touches.
“You think you’re the only one who’s been marked?” he growls against my neck as he rips down my panties. The second I kick them off, his hand cups my pussy in a way that feels like claiming. “You think you haven’t done the same to me?”
My head is swimming with pleasure. Just his touch on the surface, just that press of his hand against my heat, has my lashes fluttering closed and my lips parting in soft gasps. “Wh… what? What are you talking
about?”
“I had a meeting today.” Pasha kisses a fiery path down to the tops of my swollen breasts. My bra is barely containing them at this point; I’m gonna need to replace it with a maternity version soon. “Had to deal with this desperate cougar who keeps trying to get in my pants.”
The hand between my legs slowly starts tracing my outer lips. Against my better, more logical judgment, my hips start rolling and soon I’m grinding myself against his palm.
“She kept throwing herself at me,” he continues. “Again and again and again. And all I could think about was you.”
He works my bra open and tosses it aside, replacing it with his mouth on my nipple. Ohmygod, it feels
51.8%
Chapter 59
even more sensitive there now than it did a few days ago. Every warm, deep tug sends ripples of intense pleasure skittering down to my clit.
“Not exactly a turn–on,” I pant. “Talking–fantasizing–about some other woman…while you’re… you’re…”
Pasha switches breasts; his hand delves two fingers inside my wet slit. And yet I still find myself feebly trying to push at his shoulders. We need to talk about this… We need to… unh, fuck…
He captures my wrists in his one hand and cages them to the shower wall above my head. With a mournful sigh, he lets my nipple fall from his mouth and rises up to press his forehead against mine. He
sighs in a way that makes me pause.
Is he… is he as breathless as I am?
Am I underestimating how much I affect him?
“You’re not hearing me, Daphne.” Pasha slows his fingers inside me until they’re pressed against that sweet spot I need him to rub–but he won’t move. Only the heel of his palm works my clit in slow, intentional agony. The cruelest tease. “I’m not fantasizing about another woman. I’m telling
you that I could have any woman I want, and I want you. They’re all nothing to me. Ashes. Dust. Meaningless. Useless. There’s only you. Not some desperate heiress or giggling, insipid socialite. You.”
He captures my shuddering moan within another possessive kiss. When he lets my wrists go, he eases his fingers from me and I almost beg him to go back to what he was doing.
But then he’s gripping my ass and lifting me in his arms. My legs spread around him, draped over each
arm.
“Look at me, Daphne.”
