Chapter 18 I know my time alone with Zoya is ending. Today could be the last day I have her before my family comes for me. We're on borrowed time. There's been a whole bleeding clan of bastards trying to shove me off the throne. But I've still got a few loyals. Real ones. And I didn't even bother to hide her. Could've, if I wanted. Hell, part of me still wants to. But I want to claim my wife. I need to. I want Zoya in a way I've never wanted anyone. It's time. She follows me to the bedroom. She's barely dressed, just a T-shirt and a thin pair of panties, and the way she peels them off without hesitation tells me everything I need to know. I can't believe she's mine. Her eyes are dark, heavy-lidded, watching me from the doorway like she's already waiting to be devoured. "Come here," I say, crooking a finger at her. She walks toward me slowly, lashes lowered. The perfect goddamn submissive. She's everything I never knew I needed. When she gets to me, I lift her, and her legs wrap around my waist like we've done this a thousand times. "I have so many things I want to ask you, Seamus," she whispers, her voice hitching in her throat. "Ask me anything, doll." I kiss her forehead. Her temple. Her cheek. Her jaw. Her shoulder. "I told you, I'll answer anything you want. What is it, love?" I murmur. "So, those texts from my family." I go still. "Are you going to intercept my texts?" "Not a feckin' chance," I growl, kissing her hard, right on the mouth. "I came here. I took you with me because you belong with me, Zoya. You know that as well as I do, don't you?" She stares at me, like she's waiting for the catch. There is no catch. "You were set to marry some gobshite who wouldn't know yer worth if it kicked him square in the stones. There's no way in hell my family and yours would've agreed to it. So I made it happen." "Quite a visual..." she mutters, her eyes twinkling at me. I lower my voice. "I made that happen because that's what I bloody do, Zoya. Some people hate that about me. I fucking thrive on it." I lean in, pressing my lips to hers again. "I wanted you. So I took you. And now that I have you, I swear I'll take the best care of you. Take your phone? No. But other things, love..." I kiss her mouth again, my tongue teasing hers, just for a fraction of a second before I pull away. "You may not get the privacy you want. Because I won't be letting you out of me bloody sight." She laughs. "Why not?" I shake my head, walking her into the bathroom with me. My body aches, my muscles are sore, and sweat is soaking my skin. But none of that matters. Not when I want her like this. I turn on the shower, spin her around, and give a sharp slap to her perfect, perky little arse. "You're fair beggin' for a proper putting in your place, aren't you now?" I ask. "Put me in my place," she whispers back, and her eyes flutter half-lidded with anticipation. She likes this. Loves it. "Yes." My sweet, dark little girl. I guide her under the water, letting it soak into her hair, and begin washing her slowly. Reverently. I lather her hair, watching the suds run down her neck, her breasts. Her perfect, upturned breasts. I rinse them off, then bring her nipple to my mouth and scrape each one with my teeth. She moans, head tilting. I take the opportunity to kiss the trail of sudsy water down her neck. "Let me wash you too? Please," she says, her hands already on me, possessive and eager. "Tell me," she murmurs, fingers trailing over my chest, "how you're not going to let me out of your sight, Seamus." "You won't have a bodyguard, Zoya," I tell her. "I'm your shadow, your bloody shield, your man for every damn thing." "And what, you'll be with me all the time?" she teases. "It's feasible now," I say, my voice dark with promise. My hands roam over the curve of her arse, and all I can think about is how fucking deserving she is of a proper spanking. I want to show her what it is to unravel for me, piece by bloody piece. She's been raised hard. Firm. She knows the Bratva's world. She's about to know mine. "What about when you work?" she asks. "I'll take you with me." "And when you travel?" "I'll take you with me." She grins. "What about when I need to pee in peace?" "Now you're just looking for trouble," I say, gripping her arse and hauling her leg up onto mine. Her hands, those wicked, beautiful hands, are gripping my shoulders, my chest, my biceps like she's trying to memorize them. She grabs my arse. I groan. I want to take her right here, right now. But I'm not going to claim her virginity in the bloody shower. No. This is just the prelude. The foreplay. I want to make this last. So I cup her lovely tits in my hands. "Quiet now, love. Remember what I said about obeying me? There'll be time for questions later." She moans as I roll her nipples between my fingers. "What do you say, Zoya?" I murmur, a threat and a promise wrapped in velvet. "Yes, sir," she breathes out. "Yes, sir." She melts against me like honey. "Tip your head back," I say. She obeys. I finish washing her hair, then rinse. She does the same for me while my hands explore her all over again. And this is just the beginning. She's slick between her thighs, so fucking tight I can barely breathe. I slide three fingers inside her, slowly, working them in and out as her hips jerk and shudder. A soft, desperate moan spills from her lips, and I press a thumb gently, reverently, against her clit. She cries out again, a sound that's more than just pleasure; it's surrender. I'm going to make her body sing for me. I'm going to train her to crave my cock, my mouth, my teeth, every dark and dangerous part of me. "This is what you want, Seamus? Me?" she asks, trembling. "Are you sure?" I've never been surer of anything in my fucking life. I shut off the shower, come out dripping, steam curling off our skin, and towel us both off. I wrap her in a thick towel, then lift her into my arms and carry her straight to my bed, where she fucking belongs. We're both clean now. Naked. Exposed. Vulnerable. I take a moment to hold her, then lay her down on my bed like she's the most precious thing in the world. "Hands above your head," I say. "Keep them there until I tell you to move. Aye?" "Yes, sir," she whispers, her eyes locked on mine like she trusts me with everything she is. She's still damp, water droplets clinging to the tips of her lashes like dew on petals. I dry her again, careful, gentle. I kiss each droplet, one by one. I watch her lashes flutter closed under my touch. She looks like she's dreaming, and I want her to feel exactly that. Like this is the best dream, the kind you beg not to wake up from. I'll protect her with everything I have, even when things get brutal. Even when the world outside these walls comes crashing in and tries to take her from me. I'll keep her safe. "Part your legs, wife," I growl into her ear. That one word, wife, grounds me. Feeds something primal inside me. "I want to taste you. I've been fucking dying to taste you. But hear me now, if you come before I give you permission, I will take you over my knee and punish you." She lets out a shaky breath. Her hands stay put, but she arches just slightly. Just enough to test me. "If your hands move, I'll edge you until you're screaming for release. Understand me?" Her reply is a whisper, teasing, defiant. "Tell me how you're going to punish me." I slam my palm against her arse, hard enough to make her gasp, but soft enough to make her wet. "Hush now, love, or I'll have to gag that pretty mouth of yours." Her eyes go wide, but a sly little smile tugs at her lips. She's my sassy little girl. Always pushing. Always testing. I click my tongue and shake my head because she knows what she's doing to me. She wants this. I reach across, grab the pillow and rip the pillowcase off, twisting it into a makeshift gag. I tie it around her head. "Bite that if you need to scream," I murmur, brushing my mouth over her cheek, then down to her throat. "Permission granted," I whisper. Her eyes widen, and I swear she moans. Then I take my time. I kiss down her body, tasting every inch. From the soft curve of her shoulder to the swell of her breasts, to the sweet dip beneath. Her skin is silk beneath my tongue. I press kisses down her stomach, trace the indent of her belly button with my tongue, slide lower, until I'm between her thighs again. I spread her open and breathe her in like she's the only air I want in my lungs. She smells like sin and salvation, like sex and innocence, both wrapped in one perfect fucking contradiction. I groan when I slide my tongue between her folds, slow and deep, and taste her. Fuck. She's everything. I tease her, circle her clit with my tongue, then suck gently. Her hips jerk up, but she can't make a sound with the gag in place. She's squirming, trembling. I brace her with my hands on either side of her hips and start to lap at her again. I'm addicted. My cock is leaking, aching, and dripping with pre-cum. She screams into the gag as I bring her to the edge. And when she starts to come, I don't stop. I ride her through every wave, licking her gently through the aftershocks, kissing her thighs. She tries to push me away, as if she's too sensitive, and it's too much. But I'm not done. I'm nowhere near fucking done. She'll come again. So I worship her... over and over, until she's writhing again. Until she's begging without words and comes a second time on my tongue. Finally, I pull away just enough to remove the gag. She gasps, her breathing ragged. "Oh my god, Seamus... Oh dear god..." She moans it like a prayer, like she's finally seen heaven. I cradle her face and kiss her gently. "I want you to remember this," I whisper. "I need you to remember this. I meant to take my time. I meant to make you come again, but now... now I feckin' need you." My cock is so hard it hurts. I'm shaking with how much I want her. "May I touch you?" she whispers. Her voice is soft, unsure, and so sweet it tears me apart. "Say it again," I murmur, trembling. "Say my name, mo chroí. No one else gets to. Just you." "Please, Seamus," she says. "I want you inside me. I want you to complete me. I've been dreaming about this." "Dreaming about this," I echo, my heart in my throat. She's my sweet, perfect angel. God help me, I don't want to hurt her. She's tight. She's untouched. And she's mine. I'll burn down the whole fucking world before I ever let her go. I want to claim her. I want to pound into her. I want to erase the existence of anything but me from her mind. I want to mark every single thought, every nerve ending, with the weight of me. I want to brand her from the inside out. But I can't... I won't. She needs time and patience. So I take my time. She's so wet, open, and waiting for me. My self-control is hanging by a goddamn thread. I can see the arousal in her eyes, feel it dripping down the curve of her ass. Beautiful, beautiful girl. "I love you, Zoya," I whisper. As I glide the head of my cock to her entrance, emotion chokes me. "I love you so damn much." I can't breathe. I've never cried in my entire life, not once, but now? I feel that pressure building, coiled behind my eyes. I don't let it fall. I can't. Not yet. I clear my throat and push in just the tip, sliding gently, so gently, into her slick heat. It's fucking killing me to hold back, to not bury myself all the way. My restraint feels like punishment. Gently, I glide into her, back and forth, teasing us both. "Oh, darling girl," I whisper, as I slowly push my cock deeper into her. "Oh, my sweet angel..." "Oh god, Seamus. Please..." she moans, her voice trembling, breaking. Her legs wrap tightly around me like she can't bear a single inch of space between us. "Yes... yes," she whispers. Her arms come around my neck, and her soft lips meet mine. I kiss her, deep, consuming, while I move inside her. Slow. Rhythmic. I thrust into her with pure, focused precision. It feels so fucking right. Like the way it was always meant to be. I thrust in gently, shaking with the effort of holding myself back. "Does it hurt, love?" I ask, brushing her hair back. "Tell me if I'm hurting you." I say it again, quieter. "I need you to tell me. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt my angel." "Just a little," she says, biting her lip. "It's just tight... but I'm wet and..." She pauses. "Seamus?" "Yes, love?" I still, waiting for her. "I don't care if it hurts," she whispers, her eyes wide and unwavering. "You're the only one I want to feel this with. Please, take me. Take me with everything." My shoulders are trembling from holding back, from not slamming into her the way my body's begging to. But I glide in again, slow and smooth. Her tight, hot, perfect pussy grips my cock like she was made for me. In and out. In and out. I move in rhythm, matching her moans with every pulse. I continue pushing into her, losing myself. "Oh, yes, please," she pants out. "Yes, that feels so good." I thrust in and out, faster, deeper. I feel like a goddamn boy. I can't hold back much longer. I'm gonna come, and I can't stop it. I have no control. She owns me. She's everything I ever fucking wanted. I'm shaking when I ease into her again, and again. Over and over. I've conquered cities, torn through empires, claimed my entire clan, and yet here, with her? I can't even hold myself together. I'm unraveling. I've always prided myself on self-control. But now? Now it's slipping. It's taking everything in me not to pound into her like an animal. "More, Seamus," she whispers. "I can take it." "Love..." I breathe, then push all the way in. She gasps, sharp, breathless. I reach up, caressing her breasts, holding her with reverence. My large hands curve over her shoulders, anchoring her to me as I begin to build a deeper rhythm. In and out. In and out. Her body trembling under mine, giving herself fully. She lets out a soft, hoarse breath. "I'm going to come again, I think." "You said it, love. Just let go. It's all yours now, every last bit of it." This is hers now. I feel her climax around me, tight, clenched, then softening as she moans and her eyes flutter shut. I can't help it anymore. I spill into her. Claiming her. My hot seed lashes against her walls as I groan, my body bucking with the force of release. Even now, I'm holding back. Still gentle, still careful. Slowly, I thrust into her again, easing out, then in. Soft. Rhythmic. Ecstasy floods me as she holds me. I'm boneless, paralyzed, spent. My forehead touches hers. I'm breathless. "Oh god, Zoya... That was perfect," I whisper. My body's still damp, a sheen of sweat clinging to me, but I don't care. She kisses my shoulder and whispers back, "Perfect." Then she murmurs, "Hold me, Seamus." Still inside her, I fold my arms around her body and hold her close. That's when I notice the tears streaking down her cheeks. "Zoya?" My voice drops. "Oh my god. I'm a fucking asshole. What happened? Are you okay? I hurt you." She shakes her head. "No... no..." she chokes out. Her eyes are wet, and when she blinks, fresh tears fall. "I don't know why I'm crying. But it's not because it hurt, I promise." She clutches me tighter. "I'd do that a hundred times over. It's just..." She sniffs. "When you left... When you didn't come back, Seamus..." She's crying freely now, burying her head in the crook of my arm. My own throat tightens, and my nose starts to tingle. I fight to stay composed. My sweet, sweet girl. "When you left... I thought you were using me. I thought you were just... just trying to get to my family. I thought I was a pawn. That you didn't really want me." I stay silent, even though I want to beg her forgiveness. But she needs to speak. She needs this, and I owe her every word. Of course she felt that. Of course she doubted. "Even on my wedding day... when I agreed to the arrangement," she goes on, "I told myself I'd only fallen in love with an image of you. That it wasn't real. That I was just some foolish girl..." Oh, Zoya. She's twisting that knife, and she doesn't even know it. I nod slowly and hold her tighter to me. "Yes, angel. Go on." "You came to me that night," she continues. "The night before my wedding. And I... I still thought it was a game. That you were playing me. That you were clearing the board for your family." She swallows hard. "And then you took me. And married me." She looks up at me, her voice a whisper, her face shattered. "Even then, Seamus... even then, I wasn't sure. I still had doubts. I still wondered..." Her words fall from her lips like a confession, raw, ragged, and aching. Her heartbeat slows beneath my palm. My hand is perfectly cupped right between her breasts, where I can feel it. My thumb and forefinger curve around her side, instinctive, protective. I want to hear that steady, comforting beat under my touch. "Now there's not a doubt in my mind," she says, with no hesitation. "Not a doubt that you loved me. Not a doubt that you ever wanted me. I know now. I know you wanted me. That you waited for me. That you broke out of a damn prison for me." She sniffs. "And I know, Seamus." She says it soft. Steady. "I know that you love me as much as I love you." I want to burn this moment into my memory. Me, with her. Holding her. Tucking her against my chest like she belongs there. This... this feels like the edge of heaven. But I can feel the tug, the fear of losing her. Of losing this. Raw vulnerability. Certainty. Something's going to drag me under, any second. "I love you, Seamus." But before I can respond, before I can breathe, a sharp sound slices through the air. A Fated Encounter movie summary talks about Emma Brown who is forced by her father Henry to take her sister Bella's place and marry Tommy Anderson to save her business. Unlike the rumor Tommy turns ou...