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Make a mess
Huling Na-update:
2025-07-23 15:34:12
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Claimed by the billionaire No blind spot
I believe there’s a solid reason why you’re here in my office, Lockwood,” I said wryly, the disgust practically dripping off my face. Adrian’s lips tugged into a lazy grin, like this was a social call. “Oh, come on, Christian,” he drawled, sauntering over like he owned the place. “Why so hostile? We’re practically partners now… aren’t we?” I raised a brow, unimpressed. “You only show up when you think you have ammunition. Let’s not pretend this is a friendly visit.” He shrugged, hands sliding into his pockets, his cocky swagger on full display. “Maybe I just missed your charming company.” The simmering in my blood had reached a full boil. “Cut the bullshit.” Adrian’s smug grin didn’t waver as he strolled in like he wasn’t two seconds away from getting his ass kicked out. “You see, Christian, it’s come to my attention that your little wife might not be as innocent as you think.” I exhaled through my nose, bored already. “Why? Still holding a grudge because she threw a dr
Claimed by the billionaire Red
Elizabeth POV Christian is going to leave me… the day he erases his father from the face of the earth. I stirred the boiling pasta, trying to focus, but his words wouldn’t leave my head. I kept hearing them, over and over. Erase someone’s existence from the face of the earth. Erase. Not disown. Not cut off. Erase. Who says that so casually? A normal human being doesn’t. But it’s Christian Reed. And he’s not wired like the rest of us. He’s ice-cold, he doesn’t feel, he’s practically a walking gorgeous robot. He’s ruthless, terrifying… and for some fucked twisted reason, my body still reacts to him like I’m one touch away from melting. Erase his father… or was he adopted? I didn’t even know. The thought of finally leaving this marriage should make me happy. I should be counting down the days to freedom, to going back to my daughter, to having a life that belongs to me. But deep inside, buried under all the reasons I should run, something twisted itself tighter in my
Claimed by the billionaire You enjoyed it
Christian POV The whiskey sat untouched beside me, the ice clinking quietly against the glass. My glass was half-full, the sharp burn of whiskey doing nothing to cut through the irritation gnawing at me. Not from Adrian Lockwood's spiral earlier in my office, he was a laughable pest at this point—but from the spiraling disorder I could no longer ignore. I had come home from work because I couldn’t keep my head straight from the same spiraling disorder. Ever since Red—four years ago—I hadn’t kissed a woman or fucked them face to face. I had a way I did things. Detached. Cold. I fucked from behind because it was easier. No eye contact. No intimacy. Just pleasure, brutal and simple. No one could handle what I liked in bed, and I didn’t care enough to soften it. But the rules… started breaking when a certain blonde walked into my life. Elizabeth Harper. Or should I say Elizabeth Reed? She was cracking my walls, every damn day, without even realizing it. I’d kissed her. Fucking
Claimed by the billionaire Why are you here?
ELIZABETH POV Sam drove us to a small diner tucked into a quieter corner of the Lower East Side. The kind of place with foggy windows and worn-out booths but the best greasy sandwiches you could find. We didn’t speak much on the way there. Just small glances and a few quiet laughs. I think we were both a little overwhelmed. The diner smelled like coffee and old memories. Sam sat across from me, looking so much older but still the same in the ways that mattered. His presence felt like home, something I hadn’t felt in a very long time. “So… how bad has it been?” His voice was soft, but his stare was sharp. I let out a shaky breath, playing with the condensation on my glass. “Bad enough,” I whispered. He didn’t push me,he just waited, looking at me quizzically. “My daughter’s with Grandma,” I said after a moment. “They wouldn’t let me bring or even contact her, father is always threatening me but I guess it’s for the best, I couldn’t risk her seeing me like this, seeing… al
Claimed by the billionaire Twisted
If there’s something I’ve mastered lately, it’s the art of avoiding Christian Reed like a plague. I make sure to stay in bed until ten. He always leaves for work around nine, like clockwork. Very easy. Ever since that night, when he came into my room, tied my wrists, and tongue fucked me with his mouth—I haven’t been the same. I wake up with the ghost of his touch on my skin, shamefully wet and embarrassingly needy. Some nights I leave the door cracked open… pathetically hoping he’ll come back. Maybe he’ll pull me out of bed, pin me down, make me forget how much I hate him. But he never came. Maybe he smelled it on me, my desperation, especially after I asked, like a fool, “No sex?” Maybe he got bored. Maybe I disgust him now. I had shamelessly given myself to him. Not once. But Twice. I should’ve slapped him, pushed him away the moment he kissed me at that stupid event, when his fingers were inside me like he owned me. But I didn’t. I let him in.
Claimed by the billionaire Make a mess
“I kept thinking about you…” His voice was low, dangerous. “Thinking about how you’d sound when I finally fuck you, how your pussy would tighten around me.” I gulped at his words. He pulled out a rope from his pocket. I looked at him puzzled. He grabbed a piece of ice, dropping it in his mouth, he moved closer, lowering his mouth to mine, my whole body went stiff. He placed his lips on mine, before pushing the ice into my mouth. A gasp escaped me, the freezing bite of it shocking my senses just as he shoved me down on the bed. My back hit the mattress, he grabbed my wrists and yanked them above my head before I could react. The Rope. Thick, firm rope wrapped around my wrists, tying me to the headboard, leaving me exposed and breathless in my underwear beneath him. “Christian—” I whispered, my voice shaky but laced with heat. “Don’t interrupt me,” he growled, eyes dark, full of hunger. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.” Heat bloomed in my stomach, movin
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