Chapter 157 - 0157: Is That A Promise, Elena?

Chapter 157: Chapter 0157: Is That A Promise, Elena?

Jaxx’s Point Of View

"I’ll let you go."

The words hung between us, thick with challenge, with promise, with the kind of dark amusement that made her eyes flash with defiance. She stared at me like I’d lost my mind, her chest rising and falling with sharp, uneven breaths.

I could see the calculations running behind her gaze, the way she weighed whether to call my bluff or bolt for the door. Even now, cornered and half-undone, she couldn’t quite let go of the need to fight me on principle.

"You’re insane," she hissed, her voice trembling, but her eyes... fuck, her eyes were dark with something else. Something hungry. Something that betrayed every word coming out of her mouth. She could snarl all she wanted; her body had already surrendered long before her pride caught up.

I arched an eyebrow, my lips curling into a smirk. "Oh, really?" My hand slid up her waist, my fingers tracing the curve of her hip before gripping it possessively. I felt her breath catch beneath my palm, a small tremor she couldn’t quite hide. "Let me bend you over this counter and smack that pretty ass five times."

My voice dropped, low and rough, my breath hot against her ear. "If you can take it without squirming, without moaning, without trembling..." My thumb brushed against the hem of my shirt where it rode up her thigh, teasing the bare skin beneath. "And without soaking that sweet pussy of yours, then I’ll believe you’re not affected."

She blinked at me like I’d grown two horns, her pupils dilating, her lips parting as her breath hitched. The war in her expression was almost beautiful to watch... pride battling against something far more primal. I could practically see the arguments forming and dying behind her eyes, each one crumbling before she could voice it.

Then, her voice came out shaky, her thighs pressing together like she was trying to ease the ache between them. "Why are you doing this, Jaxx?"

I leaned in closer, my voice a dark purr. "It all depends on you, sweetheart." My hand moved away from her waist, dragging along her sides, letting my fingers hover near her ass, teasing, tormenting. "You disobeyed, Princess. I told you not to move. When I give instructions, I expect them to be followed."

My grip tightened just enough to make her gasp, the sound punching straight through my resolve. "And going against them comes with punishment."

I could see it... the way her body trembled, the way her breath came faster, the way her pride warred with the need pooling between her thighs. It was intoxicating, watching her unravel one heartbeat at a time, watching the careful mask she wore slip further with every second I kept her waiting. "And also..." My lips brushed the shell of her ear, my voice dropping to a growl. "You’re so fucking irresistible."

She trembled, her body wanting this even if her pride still tried to protest. But I straightened, pulling back just enough to let the cool air hit her skin, raising my hand like I was offering her a way out. "But if you don’t want this, it’s fine."

I started to move away, my steps slow, deliberate, like I was giving her a chance to run, to escape, to deny this thing between us. Part of me almost hoped she would take it, if only to prove I still had some restraint left where she was concerned. The other part of me, the part that had already claimed her in every way that mattered, prayed she wouldn’t.

But then... her fingers locked around my wrist. Her gaze burned into mine, dark and defiant and fucking needy.

"Go ahead," she whispered, her voice shaking but her eyes unwavering. "You can spank me."

A slow, dark smirk spread across my lips as I leaned back in, my voice a low, dangerous growl. "And I’ll prove to you that you don’t affect me?"

"Exactly."

I chuckled, dark and low, my hand sliding back to her waist, my grip possessive, my touch claiming. "Oh, Bambina..." My voice was a dark, velvety growl as I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. "You’re about to learn just how wrong you are."

I leaned back against the cool edge of the marble, letting my weight settle while my hand stayed locked firmly around her waist. The silence in the kitchen felt heavy, almost suffocating, broken only by the erratic rhythm of her breath hitting my neck.

Somewhere beyond the walls, the city hummed on, indifferent to the storm building between us, oblivious to the fact that an entire war was being waged in this one small room.

Her grip on my wrist was tight... tight enough that her knuckles were turning pale, her nails biting into my skin through sheer instinct. She was trying so hard to project control, to stand her ground like a woman who hadn’t spent the entire night undone beneath me.

But I could feel the tremor running through her arm, the subtle, betraying shudder of her body against mine. It was a small thing, that tremor, but it told me everything her words refused to admit.

"You’re very confident for someone whose pulse is beating like a trapped bird right beneath my thumb," I murmured, my voice dropping into a rough, lazy drawl.

I didn’t pull my wrist away. I let her hold onto me, let her pretend for a second that she was the one anchoring us here.

There was something almost tender in letting her have that illusion, even as I dismantled it piece by piece, watching her cling to the last scraps of a control she’d already lost.

Elena swallowed hard, her jaw tightening as she forced herself to meet my eyes. The flushed heat on her cheeks had spread all the way down to her collarbone, disappearing into the dark cotton of my shirt. "It’s not confidence, Jaxx. It’s logic. You think you have this complete, absolute hold over me just because of... last night. You think because I let my guard down for a few hours, you suddenly own every reaction my body has."

"I don’t think, Princess. I know." I tilted my head, my eyes dragging slowly down her face... from the stubborn set of her chin to the swollen, bitten curve of her bottom lip, down to where her chest heaved against the thin fabric. "Look at you. You’re sitting on my counter, wearing nothing but my clothes, holding onto me like a lifeline while telling me to prove you wrong. Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds coming out of your mouth?"

"I am holding onto you to keep you from touching me where I don’t want to be touched!" she snapped, her voice rising, though the crack at the end betrayed the sudden spike of panic in her chest. She tried to push against my wrist, trying to create distance, but I didn’t budge an inch. I remained a solid, unyielding wall of muscle between her thighs.

"You set a challenge because you’re arrogant. You want to humiliate me. You want me to break down and admit that you have some dark, tragic power over me, but you don’t."

"Is that what you think this is? Humiliation?" A dark, genuine laugh rumbled from deep in my chest. I stepped a fraction of an inch closer, crowding her until the space between us evaporated completely, my chest pressing against hers until I could feel the rapid, frantic thump of her heart. "Elena, if I wanted to humiliate you, I wouldn’t be standing here wasting my breath negotiating with you. I’d have already turned you over, stripped this shirt off your back, and taken every single thing I wanted until you were screaming my name so loud the front desk could hear it."

Her breath hitched sharply, a soft, involuntary gasp catching in the back of her throat. Her eyes dilated, the dark pupils swallowing the hazel ring around them until they were almost entirely black.

For a moment, neither of us spoke, the tension coiling tighter with every passing second, thick enough that I could practically taste it in the air between us.

"You’re a lunatic," she whispered, her hands scrambling off my wrist to press flat against my chest, her fingers digging into my chest as if trying to push me back, even though her body inclined toward mine. "A complete, utter lunatic. You talk like you’re some kind of tyrant."

"I am a tyrant when it comes to what’s mine," I growled, sliding my free hand up the back of her thigh, my fingers splaying wide across her smooth, feverish skin, gathering the heavy cotton of the shirt in my fist until it bunched at her waist. "And right now, every square inch of this skin is marked with my scent, my hands, my mouth. You think you can just wake up, put on my shirt, walk out that door, and reset the clock? You think you can pretend yesterday never happened?"

"It was a mistake!" she cried out, though the words sounded thin, devoid of any real force. Her thighs twitched reflexively as my calloused thumb smoothed over the delicate skin near her inner hip. "We were elevated. We were out of our minds. It was adrenaline and... and physical impulse! That’s all it was, Jaxx! It doesn’t mean I belong to you. It doesn’t give you the right to lock doors and treat me like a prisoner!"

"If you were a prisoner, you’d be in chains, Bambina," I whispered, leaning down until my lips brushed against the sensitive shell of her ear, my breath heavy and hot against her skin. "Instead, you’re sitting on imported marble, bargaining for five slaps like it’s a game you actually have a chance of winning."

She shivered, a deep, violent shudder that started at the base of her spine and rippled all the way through her frame. "It isn’t a game," she stammered, her hands slipping slightly against my chest as her strength seemed to leak out of her. "I’m telling you... I can take it. I can sit here, and I won’t give you the satisfaction. I won’t cry out, I won’t beg, and I definitely won’t... I won’t react the way you think I will."

"Is that a promise, Elena?" I pulled back just far enough to look her directly in the eyes. The defiance was still there, but beneath it lay a sprawling, turbulent ocean of raw, unfiltered desire. She was terrified... not of me, but of how easily her own body betrayed her the second I came near.

I found myself almost admiring her for still trying, even now, for refusing to fold completely even when we both knew how this would end. "Because if you break that promise... if you make so much as a single, sweet little sound... the deal is off."

"And what happens if the deal is off?" she challenged, her chin lifting, though her lower lip trembled subtly.

"If the deal is off," I said softly, my voice dropping an octave into a low, uncompromising threat, "I take you right here on this cold stone until you remember exactly who you belong to. I don’t stop when you ask. I don’t stop when you pretend to hate it. I stop when I’m satisfied that you’ve erased the word ’mistake’ from your head forever."

Silence stretched between us again, heavy and charged with static. She stared at me, her chest rising and falling in shallow, desperate hitches, her mind racing, fighting a losing battle against the heat pooling between her legs.

I watched the exact moment her resolve began to crumble, the fight draining out of her shoulders even as her chin stayed stubbornly raised, a final, useless flag planted in ground she’d already lost.

"Five," she whispered tightly, her voice cracking under the weight of her own pride. "Five times. And then you open that door."

"Five," I agreed, a slow, dangerous smirk spreading across my face as I shifted my grip, hooking my arms beneath her knees to shift her position. "Let’s see how long that brave little mouth stays shut."