Bound by Contract, Owned by Hate

I Finally Taste My Enemy

Chapter 6

(Xander's POV)

The bedroom door slams so hard the sound reverberates through the entire penthouse like a gunshot.

I stand there in the middle of my living room, c**k throbbing so painfully against my zipper I have to clench my jaw to keep from growling. My lip is still bleeding where she bit me. I swipe the drop of blood with my thumb and stare at it, tasting her fury on my tongue.

"Fuck."

Sophia Laurent just slapped me, threatened me, and walked away like she still has control.

She doesn’t.

Not anymore.

I loosen the rest of my shirt buttons, chest rising and falling hard. The city lights blur beyond the glass where I had her pinned just minutes ago, her body soft and trembling against mine, n*****s hard through that emerald dress, thighs pressing together like she was fighting not to rub herself on me.

She wanted it. She hates that she wanted it.

Good.

I like her angry. I like her vicious. I like her pretending she isn’t dripping for the man she’s spent fifteen years cursing.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. Richard's sent a text.

Richard: Marriage certificate filed. Phoenix Holdings notified. Media leak drops at 8 a.m. tomorrow. You’re officially the most hated and envied man in New York.

I don’t reply. I toss the phone on the couch and walk toward the master bedroom like a predator stalking prey.

The door is locked.

Cute.

I pull out my master keycard, because everything in this penthouse belongs to me, including the woman behind that door and slide it through the reader. The lock clicks open.

I push the door slowly.

Sophia stands by the floor-to-ceiling windows in nothing but a black silk slip that barely reaches mid-thigh. Her back is to me, shoulders rigid, arms wrapped around herself. The city lights paint her skin in gold and silver. Her dark hair cascades down her back like ink.

She doesn’t turn around. “Get out.”

“No.”

I step inside and close the door behind me. The click sounds final. Irrevocable.

“You think locking a door will stop me?” I ask, voice low. I shrug off my shirt and drop it on the floor. “You signed the contract, Sophia. Same bed. Every night.”

She spins around. Her eyes rake over my bare chest, the hard ridges of muscle, the V that disappears into my pants. For a second her gaze darkens with raw hunger before she forces disgust back onto her face.

“I signed under duress. Touch me and I’ll scream this entire building down.”

I stalk closer. Slowly. Giving her time to run. She doesn’t.

When I’m right in front of her, I reach out and trace one finger down the strap of her slip. Her skin is burning.

“You can scream,” I murmur. “I’d love to hear it. Especially when you’re coming on my c**k with my name on your lips.”

Her hand flies up to slap me again.

This time I catch her wrist mid-air and twist it behind her back, pulling her flush against me. Her breasts press into my chest. Her hips brush my aching erection and she gasps.

“Keep fighting me,” I growl against her ear. “It only makes me harder.”

“I hate you,” she breathes, but her voice cracks.

“I know.” I bite the shell of her ear. “I hate you too. I hate how you’ve haunted me for years. I hate how f*****g perfect you feel against me right now.”

I spin her around and bend her forward over the wide windowsill. Her hands slap against the glass as the city sprawls beneath us, thirty floors up, exposed, vulnerable. I press my body against her back, grinding my c**k against her ass through the thin fabric.

“Anyone with binoculars could see us right now,” I whisper, dragging my hand up her thigh, pushing the slip higher. “They’d see me claiming my wife on our first night.”

“Xander” Her voice is half warning, half moan.

“Say it again.” I slide my fingers between her legs and curse under my breath. She’s soaked. Drenched. Her panties are useless. “Say my name while you’re this wet for the man you want to destroy.”

She whimpers as I stroke her through the silk, circling her c**t with slow, deliberate pressure. Her hips rock back against me involuntarily.

“I still hate you,” she gasps.

“Good.” I rip her panties down in one brutal tug. “Hate me while I f**k you.”

I free my c**k and drag the thick head along her slick folds. She’s trembling. So am I—pure raw need I’ve never felt this violently.

One thrust and I’m buried halfway inside her tight, scorching heat.

Sophia cries out, forehead pressed to the glass. “Oh God...”

“Not God,” I snarl, pulling back and slamming in deeper. “Me. Say it.”

I start moving hard, punishing strokes that make her breasts bounce against the cold glass. Every thrust is revenge and obsession and fifteen years of foreplay finally snapping.

“Xander f**k you’re too big...”

“You’ll take every inch, wife.” I grip her hips hard enough to bruise and pound into her, the wet sound of our bodies obscene in the quiet penthouse. “This p***y is mine for the next year. Mine to ruin. Mine to fill.”

She pushes back against me, meeting every thrust, cursing me between broken moans. Her walls flutter around my c**k, gripping me like she never wants to let go.

I reach around and rub her c**t fast and rough.

“Come for me, Sophia. Come hating me.”

Her orgasm hits like a explosion. She screams my name, body convulsing, p***y milking me so tight I see stars. I follow right after, burying myself to the hilt and spilling deep inside her with a guttural groan.

For a few seconds there’s only heavy breathing and the distant hum of the city.

Then reality crashes back.

I stay inside her, chest pressed to her back, lips against her shoulder.

“You’re going to regret this,” she whispers, voice hoarse.

“Too late.” I kiss the bite mark I left on her neck. “You already belong to me.”

I pull out slowly, watching my c*m drip down her thighs. The sight is primal. Satisfying.

She turns around on shaky legs, eyes glassy, lips swollen. For a moment we just stare at each other; enemies, spouses, lovers, whatever the hell we are now.

Then she slaps me again. Harder this time.

I laugh darkly, blood on my tongue once more.

“Round two?” I ask, already hardening again.

She backs toward the bed, fire and tears in her eyes.

“This changes nothing,” she says.

But we both know she’s lying.