Chapter 07: Say My Name

Chapter 07: Say My Name

Briella’s POV

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A moan escaped my lips as Braun cupped my breasts, his touch firm yet worshipful. I tugged on his hair, and I could tell he liked it from the low groan that rumbled from his throat.

His lips latched onto one of my breasts while his hand caressed the other, sending waves of pleasure crashing through me. At that moment, all I could think about was him, this man giving me the kind of honeymoon I had only ever dared to dream about.

His tongue teased the sensitive peak of my breast, and I arched my back in response to the jolts of pleasure that spread through my spine.

I bit down on my lower lip, desperately trying to suppress the sounds building in my throat as he continued his delicious assault. Then his mouth returned to mine, and I kissed him back with everything I had. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, needing to feel even closer to him.

When his hand slid down between my thighs, I gasped into his mouth.

“You’re already wet,” he murmured, his voice deep and gravelly as he began to stroke me intimately.

“Oh my—holy fck!” I slapped a hand over my mouth as he slid a finger inside me, stretching and filling me in ways that made my whole body tremble.

My whole body trembled from the overwhelming sensations rushing through me.

So this is what it feels like to have someone inside you! I screamed inside my mind. And yet, it was only his finger. Just one finger and I already felt like I was losing my mind from the pleasure. What more if it was him—that part of him?

The thought alone made my walls clench, and I shivered with anticipation.

“Damn, you’re fu—you’re vi—”

“Yes,” I cut him off, my voice firm but breathless. “And I promised I’d give it to my future husband.”

He curled his finger inside me, and I couldn’t stop the moan that tore from my throat.

Sht! I’m getting dizzy... but I don’t want him to stop... please, don’t stop.

His finger continued moving, faster and deeper, as though he already knew exactly how to make my body sing. My lips parted in a silent cry as pleasure surged through me, hot and blinding. I had to shut my eyes, everything felt too intense. I was afraid if I didn’t, my eyes would roll back from the sheer ecstasy he was giving me.

And then, as if he hadn’t already wrecked my senses, his mouth returned to my breast—sucking, teasing, devouring.

I whimpered, unable to form a coherent thought anymore.

“Braun…” I moaned his name softly.

I heard his low groan, deep and raw, vibrating against my skin as his finger moved faster inside me. I could feel it—my orgasm building, twisting tighter and tighter at my core. My hands clutched at his back as if that could anchor me to this reality.

“Fu…ck, I can feel it. Oh, sheesh…” I gasped, biting my lip, but even that couldn’t stop the moan that slipped from my throat.

His thrusts became quicker more intense, and it didn’t take long before my body gave in—exploding in a powerful release. I cried out, trembling as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through me, breaking over me like a storm I didn’t want to end.

Mouth slightly agape, I looked at him who wore the most satisfied expression on his handsome face, like he knew exactly what he had done to me. He slowly pulled his finger out, and I shut my eyes, still basking in the lingering pleasure. A part of me didn’t want him to stop. I didn’t want to be empty again.

“I won’t take you now,” he whispered, kissing my forehead gently.

I opened my eyes, confused. “But why? You’re my husband now… I’m willing to give myself to you.”

He looked at me for a long moment, then said, “Say my name.”

“Huh?” My brows furrowed at his strange request.

He chuckled softly and gently pinched my nose. That playful, unexpected gesture made my heart stutter.

“You can’t do it yet because you’re not ready to surrender to me completely. When you can say my name wholeheartedly, I’ll know you’re truly mine and no one else can have you. You’ll think of no one but me,” he said, then lifted me effortlessly and carried me to the bathroom.

“We’ll shower. Then you need to rest. You can’t wear yourself out tonight, you have a lot to face tomorrow.”

He bathed me with such care as if I were something precious. I watched him quietly, unsure what I’d done to deserve this gentleness from someone like him. Afterward, he even dried my hair and lay beside me in bed. It was only eight in the evening, still early, but he was right. I needed rest. The vultures would be circling by morning.

As I lay there, close to him, I wondered how a man as powerful and feared as Braun El Cueva could be so gentle… so respectful.

They said he was ruthless. Cold.  A Devil. A force to be reckoned with in the Entertainment Industry. No one dared invade his private life or question his decisions. And yet here he was, treating me with more tenderness than anyone ever had.

***

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Braun’s POV

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I gently ran my fingers through Briella’s long hair. She was sound asleep, her breathing soft and even, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave her side. I just wanted to admire her a little longer. She looked so peaceful, so vulnerable... so damn beautiful.

The first time I saw those hazelnut eyes filled with pain, something in me shifted. I wanted—no, needed to be the one to take that pain away. To replace every scar with happiness. I didn’t think twice about carrying her in my arms that night or letting her kiss me in front of everyone. I didn’t care who saw it. Let them talk.

Who would dare challenge me in the middle of the night anyway? I held a kind of power people only fantasized about.

Once I was sure she was deeply asleep, I kissed her forehead, gently pulled away, and quietly left the room. I brought my laptop and phone into the adjacent study—my private war room.

Those who humiliated my wife will pay, every single one of them.

I tapped the screen, dialing my assistant, the line connected in less than a second.

“Mr. President…”

“Did you do what I asked?” I asked, my tone sharp.

“Yes, Mr. President. The legal team has begun processing the lawsuit against X-Trends. The notice is being delivered as we speak.”

“Good.” I nodded. “And the trending topic? The one I fed under my burner alias?”

“Yes, Sir. Our media asset has ensured it’ll stay pinned. They’ve guaranteed it remains the top story. They’re pushing every angle you approved.”

Perfect. In this world, reputation is everything. I had long since mastered the art of media manipulation—smear campaigns, strategic leaks, and image control. It was a dirty game, but I played it better than anyone.

“Now, listen carefully,” I said coldly, scanning the toxic headlines about Briella and the cesspool of ignorant comments flooding in from online cowards. “Find the former leaders of her fanbase. Reach out discreetly. Have them start reposting her old photoshoots and endorsements. Offer compensation if necessary.”

“Understood, Sir. If they refuse?”

“Then do it yourself. Use archived materials and ghost accounts if needed. Flood the feed with her elegance and grace. I want the narrative changed—now.”

“But, Mr. President, didn’t Madame say she didn’t want—”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Luigi,” I cut him off sharply. “Do as I told you. Let me know if you can’t—I’ll find another assistant who follows orders without questioning them.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. President. It won’t happen again,” Luigi immediately apologized.

“Accepted. She’s my wife now, and I won’t stand by while she’s being humiliated.” My voice was laced with fury. The bruise on Briella’s arm flashed in my mind, darkening my expression even more.

“Make the owner of that trash company pay—triple. Or better yet, make sure he ends up behind bars. He dared to hurt my woman—, he will be punished,” I said with quiet but intense authority.

“Understood, Mr. President,” he replied quickly.

“Be here at eight in the morning. We need to drop Briella off at her agency early,” I added. Once I heard his confirmation, I hung up and returned to my laptop.

I opened one of my anonymous accounts and searched for old photos and videos from Briella’s modeling days. I found a clip where she looked stunning—her eyes, her smile, everything about her was captivating as she walked the runway.

It was from an international fashion show in Paris. The clip had been shared by the wife of one of the Princes of Britain. She had thanked Briella for delivering the wedding gown perfectly. The Duchess even said that when she saw Briella wear the dress on the runway, she saw herself walking down the aisle. That’s why she didn’t hesitate to buy and wear it.

I stared intently at the video of my wife modeling in that wedding gown. My eyes gleamed, and specific thoughts, scenarios only I knew, began playing in my mind. I saved the clip on my laptop and then, using my anonymous account, posted it along with a short video from Briella’s performance earlier today. I uploaded it across all social media platforms with the hashtag: #TheQueenOfCatwalkRunwayReturns

I ensured the IP address couldn’t be traced before closing the laptop. Next, I called one of my contacts, asking for help spreading the post and ensuring it landed at the top of the global trending list. That way, Briella’s international fans would see her return to the catwalk.

Only then did I turn to the stack of documents I had neglected earlier—because I had prioritized watching my wife’s performance. It was her first runway walk as my wife, and there was no way I would have missed it.

It was three in the morning when I finished signing the documents Luigi had brought me. I also read through several contracts from major companies looking to sign the artists I represented. After closing my laptop, I stretched and stood up, seated for several hours.

As I exited the room, I frowned upon hearing noises from the kitchen. I walked toward it and found Briella heating the leftover food from our dinner the night before.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

Briella jumped in surprise, nearly dropping her plate when she heard my voice.

“S-sorry, did I wake you?” she asked with concern.

I shook my head and walked over to her, taking the plate from her hand and helping her sit at the table.

“You should have knocked on my door so I could prepare food for you,” I replied, lowering the heat on the stove.

I couldn’t help but smile when I saw the surprise in her eyes again. It was as if she couldn’t believe what I was saying—just like earlier.

“I-I can take care of myself. Besides, it seems like what you were doing was important since you’re still awake at this hour,” she said.

“Do you want to eat burnt food?” I teased, trying to suppress my smile. “You could’ve used the microwave to heat it. Why the stove?”

“I don’t want to make any noise and disturb you,” she replied, bowing her head.

I turned off the stove, transferred the food into a bowl, and brought it to her. I poured some water and gently lifted her chin, kissing her lips tenderly.

“You’re not a bother to me. Don’t ever think that you are because since you agreed to become my wife, you’ve become a part of my life,” I said softly, kissing her forehead.