Chapter Ninety-Nine: Yours
852 Words
-----Helen’s POV-----
Helen stood in the hallway, eyes glassy with disbelief.
The girls’ room. The nursery. The soft lighting, the perfect touches, the scent of lavender and honey in the air—it was like stepping into a dream crafted from every quiet longing she’d never dared voice.
Each room whispered love.
And she hadn’t even said yes yet.
She turned to look at him.
Axton.
This man—this obsessive, dangerous, heart-wrecking man—stood there like he was bracing for rejection. Eyes watching her like she was divine punishment and salvation rolled into one.
“You did all this...?” Her voice cracked.
“For you,” he said softly. “For the girls. For the life I want with you.”
Her hand covered her mouth as tears spilled freely down her cheeks. She couldn’t stop them. Didn’t even try.
And Axton—
Axton dropped to his knees.
Right there, on the carpeted hallway, between the life they had and the life they could have.
“Forgive me,” he whispered. “Please, Helen. For all of it. I’ll spend every day making it right. I don’t want your mercy—I want your ownership. If you’ll have me, I’ll be yours. Completely.”
Her breath hitched. “Axton...”
“Make me pay. Make me feel. I want you to punish me. Show me you own me the way I’ve owned you in every secret thought.”
Helen blinked at him. “Punish you?”
He nodded, voice rough. “I’ll teach you. If you want to learn.”
Her heart thundered.
And she nodded.
---------------------------
He led her into the bedroom like it was sacred ground.
The room was dark wood and deep red velvet—lush and sensual. The bed was made. Crisp sheets, silky blankets.
Axton turned to her, eyes holding a storm barely caged.
“Strip,” she said, surprising even herself.
He obeyed without a word. The shirt hit the floor. Then his belt. His jeans. His boxers.
Naked. Hard. Waiting.
A god at her mercy.
He dropped to his knees again.
“I’m yours. Command me.”
Helen stepped forward slowly, her voice unsteady. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I’ll guide you,” he said, voice like silk dragged over gravel. “Touch my face.”
She did, thumb brushing the stubble along his jaw.
“Slap me.”
She hesitated.
“Please.”
Her hand trembled.
He kissed her wrist. “Hard.”
She struck him.
Not enough to hurt—but enough to light fire in his eyes.
His c**k twitched against his thigh.
He moaned.
“Again.”
She did.
His head dropped forward, a low growl in his throat.
“Tell me who I belong to.”
“You’re mine,” she whispered.
“Louder.”
“You’re mine.”
“Again.”
“YOU. ARE. MINE.”
He looked wrecked. A statue undone.
She walked around him slowly, dragging her nails down his back, watching the muscles twitch under her touch.
She leaned in, whispered in his ear. “On the bed.”
He obeyed.
Flat on his back, arms stretched up against the headboard. Exposed. Vulnerable.
She straddled his chest, fully clothed, dragging her wet panties across his skin.
He whimpered.
“You want me to take these off?”
“Yes.”
“Beg.”
“Please. Baby. I need to taste you.”
She slid them aside and lowered herself onto his mouth.
He groaned, tongue lashing her c**t like he’d been starved.
She rocked against him, fingers in his hair, grinding until her thighs trembled and her orgasm hit like lightning.
She didn’t let him breathe.
“Flip over.”
He obeyed.
She dragged the belt he’d taken off earlier along his spine.
He shivered.
Then gasped when she brought it down, just once, across his ass.
“Again?” she asked.
“Please.”
She struck him again.
And again.
Until his moans turned guttural.
She leaned over him, whispering into his ear. “I want to ride you.”
“Please. I need it. Need you.”
She crawled onto him, positioned herself over his c**k, and sank down slowly.
He let out a sound between a groan and a sob.
“Stay still,” she ordered.
She f****d him slowly. Torturously. Letting herself feel every inch. Her nails raked his chest, leaving angry red lines.
“You’re mine,” she whispered again. “Say it.”
“I’m yours. Forever.”
She grabbed his throat—not hard, just enough to own it.
“You don’t get to finish until I say.”
He nodded, panting. “Yes, baby.”
Her orgasm built again—tighter, sharper.
She leaned back, riding him like he was made for her.
Because he was.
And when she shattered again, screaming his name—
“Now,” she gasped. “Come now.”
He did.
Hard. Deep. Eyes locked on hers, shaking under her, breathless and undone.
She collapsed on his chest.
Both of them wrecked.
Owned.
Devoted.
And hers.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD