•••
“Let the world starve, let kingdoms fall. If she asks for warmth, I’ll set fire to every goddamn thing to give it to her.”
•••
Her legs trembled violently as his finger plunged deep inside her—deliberate, unrelenting, she felt full. A strangled breath escaped her throat, her body arching instinctively, only for the climax to slip through her fingers as he withdrew—cruelly, without warning.
The soft cry that followed was swallowed against his chest.
Osman’s face dipped close to hers, his breath warm and dangerous. “You thought I’d let you come,” he murmured, voice silk wrapped in steel, “after you whispered another man’s name?”
She couldn’t speak—only shake her head in denial, eyes wide and glistening. But it didn’t matter. He wasn’t looking for excuses. He was teaching a lesson.
Without effort, he scooped her up, her naked body cradled against the hard lines of his clothed frame. She could feel every button of his shirt, every thread of control he refused to surrender. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
He carried her across the room like she weighed nothing and dropped her onto the cold wooden table. The chill of the surface kissed her fevered skin, stealing her breath. She was exposed, helpless, utterly at his mercy.
Still fully dressed, he knelt between her thighs, spreading them wide with a calm so menacing it felt like a warning. His tongue traced her folds—slow, punishing, slowly up and down and then he took his speed, he teeth slowly stretched her vertical lips and his unholy tongue lick every spot of her. She trembled, moaned, reached for release…
Then he stopped. Again.
A sound of anguish tore from her throat, but his hand caught her wrist in midair before she could touch him—before she could seek even a shred of relief.
“You don’t get to touch me,” he growled, voice low and razor-sharp. “Not when you made another man think he can miss what’s mine.”
Then his mouth returned—devouring, dominant, rough in every stroke. She shattered under him, body clenching, desperate. But just when she reached the brink… he pulled away again.
She blinked back tears, her lips trembling—not from pain, but from sheer, unfulfilled need. Her entire being ached.
He rose to his full height, his expression unreadable, gaze burning with something darker than anger—possessive fury.
He cupped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face to meet his eyes.
“Beg,” he commanded, low and lethal. “Not for release. Not for mercy. But to be mine. Entirely.”
Her breath came in ragged gasps, body still shivering from the waves he had unleashed—and yet Osman remained composed, untouched by the storm he’d drawn from her. He stood tall before her, the only warmth in his eyes the flicker of possession, the gleam of power now thoroughly claimed.
Aamirah blinked up at him, wide-eyed and dazed, her thighs still trembling, glistening where he had just been.
She opened her mouth to speak—perhaps to thank him, perhaps to beg for his arms, his approval—but no sound came. Her voice was lost in the aftershocks still rippling through her.
YOU ARE READING
𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬
Romance••• "Just because I haven't touched you as a husband should, that doesn't mean I won't," he said, his voice low and menacing. Her knees felt weak, and she didn't dare move from where she stood, his presence overwhelming her completely. She could b...
