⚠️ Reader Warning: This chapter contains explicit adult content, sexual tension, and steamy smut. Reader discretion is advised. If you blush easily… you've been warned. 😈
"All that is mine… will remain mine."
—Aurielle discovers just how far a wife can test her husband's obsession.
The morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, catching on the polished marble and making Kieran's presence even more imposing. He was in his usual tailored black suit, the kind that could make the world bow if he wanted.
"I'm going out tonight," he said casually, his voice smooth as silk over steel. "I want you to come with me."
I froze mid-step. My mind flashed back to last night—the way his hands had claimed me, the way he'd made me forget everything but him. My cheeks burned. I still remembered everything. All of it. And for some ungodly reason, I wanted more.
"I… I don't think I should," I murmured, pretending to be hesitant.
"Hmm?" His sharp gaze found mine. "Aurielle… you never think. You follow me. That's what you do."
I huffed, crossing my arms. Stubbornness was my default mode, especially around him. Every time I went out with Kieran, something always went wrong. Humiliation, tension, chaos. And yet… he was offering me a night where none of that would happen. "None of your family will be there. Just a business meeting, nothing more. Dress nice. I'll be waiting downstairs."
I considered arguing, but then… shopping. A sly smile tugged at my lips. "Fine. But only if we shop first."
He smirked. "Whatever you want, my wife."
⸻
Shopping with Kieran was its own kind of dangerous. I took my sweet time picking out everything I wanted, knowing full well I was trying to drain his bank account on purpose. Gucci, Saint Laurent, Balmain—I grabbed it all. He didn't flinch. The guards carried my mountain of bags while I strutted down the aisles, each step a little catwalk. Kieran's hands stayed buried in his pockets, calm, unbothered, while I smiled devilishly.
Outside, I found a little ice cream cart, and the moment of temptation was too perfect to resist. Licking the ice cream, my eyes met his as I slowly moved it over my lips.
"Stop it," he warned lowly. "One more move like that, and I'll—"
I cut him off with a wicked grin. "And what, exactly?"
"You'll regret it," he said, voice dropping. "Over my lap. Ass red as fire."
I smirked, almost daring him. I wanted him to.
⸻
Later, the club wasn't the main event. The real show began at the D'Angelo firm, in the boardroom. I followed Kieran inside, heels clicking against the marble floor, black dress hugging every curve. Every pair of eyes in the room snapped toward me—especially the ones that had once looked down on me at my interview.
Oh, they remembered. And now? I was untouchable. I held the papers like a queen claiming her throne. Kieran's hand rested possessively on my waist, refusing to let go, and I felt a surge of power. Everyone gasped, whispering under their breaths. The assistant who dressed like a rag? Look at her now.
I walked past them, hips swaying deliberately. I loved the way they looked down, the way the air changed when I passed. I loved this life—the attention, the power, the control. The thrill of knowing I could ruin or elevate anyone with just my presence.
⸻
Then came the moment.
Delivering Kieran's papers, I pressed myself just slightly against him, letting my cleavage brush over his chest. His sharp inhale didn't go unnoticed. I dropped a pen "accidentally" at his feet, and as I bent down to pick it up, my hand brushed over him in the most calculated way.
Kieran's knuckles hit the table. A sharp knock that made every person in the room jump. "Everyone… out."
The room emptied like clockwork, leaving only the two of us. His eyes darkened, scanning me from head to toe.
"Not a single man looks at my…" His words dropped, his tie coming off, his hand lingering over my chest. I swallowed, heart pounding. He wasn't just protective—he was claiming, asserting, dangerous.
And I? I was ready to play along.
"Is this really necessary?" I murmured, the curve of my smile daring him to act.
"Yes," he said simply, his voice low and commanding. "Because you, Aurielle D'Angelo, belong to me. And no one—no one—lays eyes on what's mine."
I leaned in, whispering, "I think you like it when I test you."
His lips twitched into a dark, satisfied smirk. "Oh, believe me… I love it."
You want to tease me?" he hissed. "Fine. Take responsibility."
Before I could react, he grabbed my wrist, "Where—Kieran—?" I started, but he silenced me with a sharp look that made my knees wobble.
"Somewhere… more private."
My heels clicked sharply against the marble as he marched me down the hallway. People glanced, but wisely pretended not to notice, their whispers swallowed by the tension around us.
He threw open the door to his private office—glass walls from floor to ceiling—and pushed me against it, holding me tight.
Before I could even think, his lips were on mine, teeth nipping, tongue dominating, crushing me against him. My hands went to his chest, feeling every hard line of muscle, the tattoos, the heat of him pressed so close I could barely breathe.
One of his hands slid under my dress, fingers tracing over bare skin, teasing, brushing over my panties. He pushed the thin fabric aside in one swift, possessive move. My breath hitched, a shiver running through me as I pressed back into him, desperate.
"You wanted to tease me… now you take responsibility," he whispered, lips brushing my ear, teeth grazing my neck.
I whimpered, my hands tangling in his hair as he pinned me against the glass, pushing me onto the edge of the desk. Papers scattered, pens rolled. He flipped my dress slightly, exposing skin to the cool air, while his fingers teased, explored, claimed.
Every movement was deliberate, controlled. His mouth devoured mine again, teeth biting, tongue swirling. My moans bounced off the glass, loud enough to make the shadows outside seem like voyeurs, but blurry enough that no one could see the mess we were making.
He dragged a hand down my thigh, then under my panties, pressing, teasing, owning me, and I shivered, begging silently as he made me lean back against the desk, heels digging into the wood. His other hand gripped my waist, tilting me perfectly into him.
"Say it, Aurielle," he growled. "Say you're mine. Only mine."
I shuddered, hips moving instinctively, voice trembling. "I'm yours… only yours…"
His laugh was low, rough, satisfied. "Good girl. That's what I like to hear."
He kissed me again, rougher this time, grinding against me, marking, claiming, reminding me that I was his, every inch, every curve.
I moaned, loud and wet, biting my lip as he continued—hands roaming, teeth teasing, clothes half torn, my back arched on the desk. Each thrust of his hips against me was precise, testing me, claiming me, making me whimper and clench around him.
The shadows outside shifted as some employees passed by, catching only silhouettes.
My breath hitched as his hand slid further between my legs, fingers teasing, sliding, plunging—so impossibly precise I could barely think. I moaned his name, arching, helpless, completely caught in the storm of him.
He whispered again, low and rough, right against my ear:
"You wanted to play… now you pay for it. Mine, Aurielle. Every inch. Only mine."
And I… I couldn't stop trembling, couldn't stop whining his name, couldn't stop wanting more.
My pulse was still shaking when I finally slumped back on the desk, breathless, legs barely working.
That was when I heard it—
a single buzz.
I frowned.
My phone was right there on the corner of the table, exactly where I had dropped it earlier when Kieran dragged me into the room. I hadn't even remembered leaving it there.
The screen lit up.
A message.
From someone I trusted.
Jason:
Watch your back, Aurielle.
Your relationship with Kieran won't last. I'll make sure of it.
I'll make sure you pay for every heartbreak you caused me.