become buried in the back of her throat. She bobbed her head and sucked hard just
the way I liked until my self-control met its match. I gripped the sides of her head
and fucked her mouth like the savage I was until my cum was shooting down her
throat. And she swallowed it all as if she were starving for it.
When I was satisfied, I pushed Jaden’s naked body back against the bed and
pried her legs apart. My tongue was inside her in seconds, lapping and sucking at
my own breakfast while her taste drove me insane. She was already soaking wet for
me.
Jaden’s back arched, her hands digging into the sheets as soft moans of pleasure
left her mouth. My hands trailed up her hips, smoothing over her soft stomach
until they were clutching at her breasts, pinching and teasing her nipples and
causing her to twitch under my tongue.
“Oh, God, Darren … please … let me come,” she groaned. If she asked, and I was
happy, I’d give her what she wanted.
“Come,” I ordered her, sucking her clit into my mouth and creating that painful
pleasure she loved so much.
My name left her lips in a cry of ecstasy, and it did things to me I could never
explain. It made my ego soar, knowing I could bring her body to such heights.
“Look at me,” I said, and her eyes immediately found mine.
As I climbed up her body, her eyes never left mine, even as I sunk deep into her
liquid heat, filling her up entirely. Her body arched under me, a soft moan leaving
her lips, while her hands moved up and down my arms.
“Tell me what I want to hear.”
“I belong to you,” she said instantly, but it wasn’t just the fact she said it. It was
the way she said it. I could always taste the disdain in her voice when she said those
words—the reluctance and blatant annoyance when I forced her to say it—but now,
as I was buried deep inside her, she said it with passion, like she was finally happy
to be mine. And hell if that didn’t have me fucking her like I owned her.
I decided to let Jaden out of the room a week later, ready to release my little
hellcat from her conditioned captivity into her old habitat. She’d woken up that
morning in my arms in my bed where she belonged. She’d been so grateful for her
release that she’d cried in my arms, pleading with me never to send her back down
there again. She would be good; she would make me happy as best she could. She
would do anything.
I’d never felt more victorious in my life.
Though I worried this was still all a trick, that she was manipulating me again
and being the best damn actress on the planet. Only time would tell, which was why
Sid watched her every second of every day, especially when she was alone. I wanted
him to assess everything she did. I wanted to know if it was real as I felt it was.
When Clive and Owen came back to assume their positions, she barely even
looked at them, barely even smiled at Camaro. I had Clive and Owen training with
her dog on advanced combative commands while Jaden was away. For a puppy, she
was doing very well.
Daniel and Katheryn had their baby girl a few weeks prior, and I wondered if
taking Jaden to see the baby would entice her motherly instincts, but I thought
better of it, considering her fragile state. In all the years I’d regrettably known
Katheryn, I’d never seen her look happier than when she was looking down at Ella,
sleeping peacefully in her arms. It surprised me when my chest started to ache, and
I realized I wanted that with Jaden. Not now with her so fragile, but within the next
few years, after we were married and happy.
For the next few weeks, I spent as much time with Jaden as possible, which was
difficult to do with everything going on. I discovered my traitor had not been alone
in his schemes, and I was still hunting for his partner, as shipments were still
either getting hit or coming up missing. It was pissing me off, especially because it
took me away from Jaden.
Jaden was still sad when I left her, and sadder still when she was alone. Even
though she was back to exercising in the gym, she still didn’t technically train. She
didn’t even look at the punching bags anymore. She either ran on the treadmill or
practiced yoga. She barely played with Camaro, only taking her for walks or
occasionally petting her. Her paintings held no color, mostly blacks and white,
sometimes gray. She didn’t smile unless I was in the room, not even for Anya and
Irina who still maintained her hair, nails, and skin. She barely even looked at them
and never said a word. Her head was always down everywhere she went, her hands
clasped in front of her. Somehow, in the midst of everything, I’d managed to turn
her from a fiery hellcat into a quiet little mouse. And that was when I realized I
