Claimed By A s*x Animal

Heat Of The Trap

The banging wouldn’t stop.

At first, I thought it was my pulse—loud, frantic, trying to climb out of my chest. But no, it was real. Urgent. Demanding. Shaking my apartment door like whoever was on the other side owned the right to break in.

I froze in the middle of my living room, phone still lighting up with the message I’d stupidly opened again and again:

**I told you to walk away.

You didn’t.**

My throat went dry. The room felt smaller—like the walls were slowly squeezing inward, trapping me with my choices, my curiosity, my stupidity. I should've listened. I could’ve pretended I saw nothing in that alley. I could’ve gone home, laid in bed, let the world stay dark and blissfully ignorant.

But no—my brain never shut up. Now someone wanted me gone because of it.

The pounding stopped.

Silence—sharp, thick, horrifying—wrapped around me like a noose.

Then—

“Sienna.”

My breath left me in a harsh gasp. Not because I didn’t recognize the voice, but because I did—too well.

Adrian Kane.

I should’ve felt relief. Safety. Gratitude.

Instead, I felt… cornered.

I moved toward the door, cautious. “How do I know it’s actually you?”

A beat of silence—then a low exhale, irritated and darkly amused.

“Because if I wanted in, sweetheart, the door would already be off its hinges.”

A shiver raced down my spine—not fear… something worse. Something reckless.

I unlocked the door.

Adrian didn’t wait for an invitation. He pushed inside, jaw tight, eyes sweeping the room like he expected a corpse on the floor. His presence swallowed the entire space—broad shoulders, expensive charcoal coat, more dominance than any man should legally carry.

When his gaze finally landed on me, it was razor-focused. “Why didn’t you call me?”

I scoffed. “Oh, sorry. Next time I'm being stalked, I’ll schedule it around your availability.”

His jaw flexed—once, sharply. “This isn’t a joke, Sienna.”

“No, Adrian. It’s not. Someone wants me dead, and I’m supposed to just—what? Sit here and hope they change their mind?”

His expression shifted—less anger, more… something complicated. Something he didn’t want me to see.

“Show me the messages,” he said.

I handed him my phone. His eyes scanned the screen, turning colder, sharper, lethal. Like violence existed in his bloodstream.

“Pack a bag.”

My stomach dropped. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not staying here tonight.”

“Why? So you can babysit me?”

His gaze lifted—slow, piercing, intentional. “So you stay alive.”

The words hit me harder than they should’ve. Not because he cared—he didn’t, not really. Adrian Kane didn’t care about people. He cared about control. Power. Calculated outcomes.

I crossed my arms. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He stepped closer—too close—heat radiating off him like a warning or a promise. “Someone was at your door, Sienna. Someone bold enough not to hide it. If they wanted to scare you, they already succeeded. If they wanted inside, you’d be on the floor instead of arguing with me.”

A chill rippled through me.

He was right—god, I hated that.

“And don’t pretend you aren’t terrified,” he added, voice softer, dangerous in a different way.

I swallowed hard. “Fine. One night.”

His lips twitched—not a smile, just acknowledgment. “One night’s all I need.”

The double meaning landed in the air between us, electric and unwelcome.

I turned away before he could see the heat rush to my cheeks. “I’ll get my bag.”

I moved into my bedroom, tossing clothes into a duffel with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking. Not from fear—no, that would’ve made sense. But because going with Adrian felt like stepping into something irreversible.

Something I wasn’t ready for.

When I returned, he was standing at the window, staring into the street below like he could see threats the rest of us couldn’t.

“Two cars,” he muttered. “Neither belong here.”

My stomach twisted. “You think they're watching me?”

“I don’t think, Sienna. I know.”

He took the bag from my hand like it weighed nothing and placed a steady palm on the small of my back. Guiding. Claiming. Infuriatingly natural.

“Stay behind me.”

Outside felt like stepping into a sniper’s scope. The air was too cold, too sharp, too aware. Adrian moved like a man who’d survived danger before—calm, calculated, a shadow built for violence.

I didn’t realize I was gripping the back of his coat until he opened the passenger door of a black SUV.

“Get in.”

I did.

The windows were tinted, the leather warm, the scent of him clinging to every surface.

He shut the door, rounded the hood, and slipped into the driver’s seat. The moment his door closed, the world felt temporarily—dangerously—sealed away.

I exhaled slowly. “Where are we going?”

He started the engine, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Somewhere no one can touch you.”

My chest tightened—fear mixed with something hotter, heavier, something I shouldn't want.

“Why are you helping me?” I whispered.

Adrian didn’t look at me—not immediately. But when he did, it was devastating.

“Because you matter more than you think.”

The words stole my breath.

Before I could respond, his expression shifted—steely, unreadable, strategic.

“Buckle up.”

“Why?”

“We’re being followed.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. I twisted in my seat, spotting headlights behind us—too close, too familiar.

Oh god.

His next words were a quiet, lethal promise:

“They want you?”

His hand gripped the wheel, knuckles white.

“They’ll have to go through me first.”

We sped into the night—toward safety or disaster, I wasn’t sure. But one thing was undeniable:

I was no longer just running from danger.

I was running straight into him.

**And God help me—I didn’t want to stop.**

The drive blurred into nothing—streetlights, dark pavement, the hum of the engine. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until Adrian finally turned into a secluded driveway surrounded by towering pines.

Not a mansion.

A glass-and-stone house tucked into the cliffside, modern and silent, overlooking the city like a predator waiting to pounce.

He cut the engine. The quiet felt louder than the chase.

“You brought me to your home?” I asked, my voice barely there.

“No,” he said, stepping out of the car. “I brought you somewhere no one else gets to be.”

Something low in my stomach tightened.

Inside, the house wasn’t cold like I expected—dim lights, exposed brick, whiskey bottles on shelves, records stacked messily. Lived-in. Human. Too human for someone like him.

He locked the door, then looked at me—really looked—and suddenly the air thickened.

“You’re shaking.” His voice was softer, almost… reverent.

“I’m not,” I lied.

Adrian stepped closer, enough that the heat of him seeped through my clothes. “Don’t lie to me. Not tonight.”

I inhaled sharply—cedar, smoke, danger.

And him.

He lifted his hand slowly, like giving me time to pull away. I didn’t. His thumb brushed my cheek, tracing dried fear like it offended him.

“You shouldn’t have had to run,” he murmured. “Not because of me. Not ever.”

Something inside me cracked—weeks of confusion, adrenaline, betrayal, wanting him and hating that I did.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” I whispered.

His jaw flexed, pained. “Believe what your body tells you. It’s the only thing that hasn’t lied.”

I should’ve stepped back.

Instead, I let him guide me deeper into the house—past the living room, past the kitchen—until we stopped in front of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city.

Like he wanted me to see how far away the rest of the world was.

“How’s your shoulder?” I asked, trying to breathe like a normal person.

He smirked—slow, sinful. “You’re worried about me?”

“No,” I snapped too quickly.

His eyes dipped to my mouth. “That’s another lie.”

The tension shifted—no longer fear, no longer confusion.

Hunger.

I felt it in his stare, in the way my pulse stuttered, in the way my thighs pressed together without permission.

He reached for me again—this time gripping my waist, firm, possessive, like he’d been starving and finally found water.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice wrecked, “and I will.”

I opened my mouth—but the truth slipped out instead.

“I don’t want you to.”

His breath hitched—the first crack in his control I’d ever seen. He stepped closer, chest brushing mine, heat sinking through fabric.

“Careful, Sera,” he whispered against my lips. “I don’t do slow.”

“Maybe I don’t want slow,” I breathed.

He cursed under his breath—dark, hungry—then tugged me forward, my body colliding with his like it was meant to happen.

His hand slid up my spine, fingers threading into my hair, guiding my head back—claiming, not asking—and his lips grazed mine, barely there, cruelly teasing.

I shivered.

“See?” he murmured. “Your body knows me.”

And then he kissed me—deep, devastating, like he’d been waiting for this since the moment we met. My knees nearly buckled, heat flooding everywhere, his tongue sweeping mine, slow and commanding.

His hands explored—waist, hips, the curve of my ass—pulling me flush against the hard length pressing into me.

I gasped, and he swallowed the sound like it was his favorite sin.

He broke the kiss only long enough to drag his mouth down my throat, sucking hard enough to bruise, to mark, to warn the world.

“f**k,” he growled, voice rough. “You taste like trouble.”

My fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate, trembling, wanting more—wanting him.

He caught my wrist, eyes burning into mine. “If I take you to my bed, I won’t let you go after.”

My pulse thundered. “Then don’t let go.”

His control snapped.

Adrian lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me through the house—breathing hard, kissing me like he owned every inch.

My back hit a wall, his mouth on mine again—deeper, hungrier—his hands sliding beneath my shirt, palms hot against bare skin, claiming territory he had no right to.

He pulled off his T-shirt slowly, I found myself tongue tied, his abs were visible well built and his biceps and triceps, made my insides churn with excitement.

His tanned skin looked so smooth and well taken care of and my gaze trailed slowly to his face.

“What are you doing?”, he said. His lips moving and my wet thighs subconsciously clamped together as I felt it throb!. My p***y throbbed!!, just by his voice.

“Get over here”, he said. I moved closer to him, my wet thighs brushing each other. I wanted him so bad, I reached down for my knees… feeling the heat coming out my p***y.

He loosened his belts and pulled down his pants, revealing his c**k to me.

It wasn’t big, it was huge!!! with veins around it and it is just semi hard how huge would it be when it fully erects?.

“Take my c**k in your hands and put that mouth into a good use”, he said. I felt a warm liquid in my p***y, oh my god!… I am completely soaked in my juice.

My n*****s had hardened and were pushing the fabric of my dress. My both hands wrapped around his c**k as that was the only way I could get his c**k wrapped.

“f**k your hands feels so good” he said, I moved my hands on his c**k and moved my face closer to breathed in the manly scent of his c**k before spitting on it.

I had watched this in a few porn video and I have never thought I would be doing this soon.

Fuck, it felt so good.