Chapter 3: The Possessive Touch
The Claim
The moment Elias's bare chest slammed against Aria's thin slip, her breath dissolved. The cool air of the room vanished, replaced entirely by the scorching heat of his body, the hard ridges of his muscles pressing into her softness.
His hand, which had gripped her waist, slid lower, pressing her hips firmly against his. Aria could feel the hard, undeniable evidence of his reaction, a shocking confirmation that his claim of 'control, not sex' was already being tested.
"Elias," she gasped, using his first name instinctively, a raw plea escaping her lips.
He stiffened momentarily at the sound of his name, then gave a sharp, rough laugh. "Good. Say my name.
Learn it. It is the only name you will utter in moments like these."
His head dipped, and he attacked her mouth. It wasn't a tender kiss of affection; it was a brutal, possessive claim. His lips were hard, demanding, and his tongue immediately plunged inside, overriding her protests, tasting her fear and submission. He kissed her until her knees went weak, until the blood roared in her ears and she had no choice but to grip the muscles of his shoulders just to stay upright.
He broke the kiss suddenly, leaving her breathless and disoriented.
The Mark of Ownership
Elias's eyes were blazing, dark pools of desire and dominance. He pushed her back a single step, giving her just enough space to breathe.
"Remember this feeling, Aria. It is the feeling of surrender. My possession."
He didn't give her time to compose herself. His hand swept down her back, finding the thin strap of her slip. With a single, sharp motion, he pulled.
The cheap fabric gave way with a tear. The right strap of the slip snapped, and the material instantly slid lower, exposing the curve of her breast just above the lace of her bra.
Aria cried out, mortified, clutching the broken strap. "Elias!"
"Hush," he commanded, his voice suddenly soft, dangerously smooth. He used his thumb to gently push the fabric of her bra aside, his eyes locked on hers as he deliberately exposed her skin.
"This body belongs to the Thorne name now," he stated, his voice a low growl of ownership. Then, without hesitation, he lowered his head and took her nipple into his mouth.
A white-hot streak of pure pleasure and shock shot through Aria. She arched against him, a startled cry escaping her lips. This wasn't what she signed up for, but the intensity of his possessiveness—the sheer, raw force of his claim—was shockingly addictive.
He suckled briefly, marking her, asserting his dominance before pulling away, a faint, satisfied smirk on his face.
The Rule Book
He didn't continue the intimacy. Just as quickly as the moment had erupted, he retreated, putting emotional distance between them. This, Aria realized with cold dread, was his mastery of control—pushing her to the brink, then snatching the release away.
"That was a lesson, Aria. You do not touch me first. You do not disobey my commands. You respond when I decide, and how I decide. Understood?" he demanded, stepping over to the walk-in closet.
Aria, still trembling, managed a strangled, "Understood."
He returned, holding a silk nightgown—expensive, pure white, and surprisingly modest.
"Go to the bathroom and put this on," he ordered, tossing it to her. "You are Mrs. Thorne. You will look the part, even when asleep."
While she was in the bathroom, changing with numb fingers, she listened to the sounds of him moving around the bedroom. When she returned, the lights were dimmed, and Elias was already in the massive bed, propped up against the pillows, reading a financial report. His gaze, when he saw her, was distant, professional, as if the last ten minutes of raw passion had never happened.
"Get in," he instructed, pointing to the spot beside him.
Aria slid into the bed. The sheets were crisp, and the sheer proximity to the powerful man made her entire body tense.
Elias lowered his tablet, his eyes suddenly sharp and focused. "One final thing about Clause 10, Aria. We will be intimate when I decide we need to be intimate to sell the illusion.
But every night, you will wear this," he reached under the pillow and pulled out a delicate, silver chain with a small, discreet pendant, "and you will sleep close to me."
He leaned over her, his scent overpowering, and clasped the chain around her neck.
The pendant was cold against her skin. Aria looked down at it. It wasn't jewelry. It was a sophisticated, high-tech tracking device, discreetly disguised.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide with horrified understanding. "What is this?"
Elias smiled—a purely possessive, cold-hearted smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"It's a reminder, my contract wife," he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of the pendant over her pulse point. "You are under my control. Every second of the 180 days. You cannot run, you cannot hide, and you certainly cannot cheat. Welcome to your golden cage."
A tracker? Elias is taking control to a terrifying new level! Will Aria find a way to remove the device?