บททั้งหมดของ Contract Marriage To The Alpha King : บทที่ 131 - บทที่ 140

Damian's POV Her lips clung to mine like she couldn’t breathe without them, and for a fleeting second, I wondered if I was any better. Every kiss was oxygen, life, fire. I drank her in like a starving man, devouring the sweetness I’d been denied for too damn long, the subtle taste of cherry and something uniquely Ava. Her fingers, delicate yet strong, fisted in the worn cotton of my shirt, pulling me closer until the last sliver of air vanished between our bodies. A soft moan, a sound that ripped through the very fabric of my being, escaped her throat as I deepened the kiss, my tongue tangling with hers in a frantic dance. The sound shredded the last thread of my control. My wolf surged, a primal beast roaring in the confines of my mind, pushing at the surface with savage urgency. Take her. Now. Make her ours. Not yet. She needs to choose this, my human mind fought back, a desperate plea for restraint amidst the rising tide of instinct. I tore my mouth from hers, my chest hea

Damian's POV I spread her legs gently, my fingers parting her, revealing the glistening pink flesh, the tiny, throbbing clit. I leaned down, my breath warm on her, and then my tongue, hot and insistent, found her, swirling, teasing, sucking. She cried out, a sharp, surprised sound, her body arching violently off the bed. I tasted her, sweet and musky, the intoxicating scent of her arousal filling my head. I worked her clit with my tongue, circling, pressing, sucking, while my fingers dipped lower, finding her opening, one finger, then two, pushing slowly inside, stretching her. She bucked against me, her hips grinding into my face, a desperate rhythm building. “Oh, God, Damian,” she sobbed, her voice thick with pleasure, “yes… don’t stop.” I increased the pressure, my tongue a relentless weapon of pleasure, my fingers stroking deep inside her. The squelching sounds of my tongue and fingers against her slick flesh filled the room, punctuated by her gasps and moans. Her body tense

Damian's POV She glared, but it faded into mischief. “Are you going to chase me away with warnings again?” I shook my head. “No. Not this time.” I leaned closer and pressed my lips to her forehead—a promise I never made lightly. “You’re staying. If you want to. All of you. No walls.” Her eyes softened. “I haven’t had a safe place in a long time.” I sat on the edge of the bed, legs sprawled, letting her settle beside me. The sheet pooled and fell to her thighs. I traced idle shapes along her shoulders—mapping every old scar, every freckle. “My mother used to tell me,” she said quietly, “that there would be a day I’d feel at home. I never believed her. Look at me now…” I pressed a kiss to her temple. “Your mother was a wise woman.” She smiled. “She also told me wolves could be gentle.” I snorted. “She was wrong about that.” Ava tucked her knees up, letting the sheet fall. I watched, helpless to the vulnerability she offered. “Last night,” she said, searching for meaning

Damian’s POV The softest thing in the world was waking to her. Not alarms. Not the unrelenting expectations of my title or the pressure of the world outside these walls. Not the echo of my father’s voice or the premonition of violence, always at my doorstep like a faithful hound. Just Ava—warm and real, her legs a subtle knot with mine beneath the linen sheets, her hip pressed trustingly into my thigh, her hair splayed across my chest so every inhale drew me deeper into her. And maybe, for the first time in my life, I did not want to move. I did not want the day to come rushing in and remind me who I was supposed to be—a king, a predator, a man forged from steel and loneliness. The morning sun crept slyly between the blinds, painting gold over her naked back, tracing the elegant line of her spine, catching on the curve of her shoulder. Her breathing was soft and even, lips parted just so—the absolute picture of vulnerability and trust. For a man like me, whose entire life was bui

Damian's POV We tried to work. Ava recited my schedule in that efficient, practiced voice, but the air between us was thick—dangerous, electric. She stayed pointedly professional, but each time she leaned forward or reached across the desk, her perfume hit me like a memory of skin, sweat, and pleasure. I felt the pull of her body, the ghost of her name on my mouth, every nerve in my body tuned to her proximity. I signed documents and listened to her summarize contract terms—her voice soft and low, her brow furrowed in concentration. When she caught me staring, she arched a brow. “Do you glare at all your secretaries like they’ve broken expensive vases?” “Only the ones I want to bend over my desk,” I murmured, voice pitched to wrap around her ears alone. Her eyes widened, color blooming in her cheeks. She glanced at the door as if expecting someone to burst in. “Damian,” she hissed. “Anyone could— Oh my God.” I tilted my head, savoring the way her pulse stammered in her thro