All Chapters of Contract Marriage To The Alpha King : Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

Damian’s POV The elevator thrummed floor by floor, the metallic hush swallowed by the sound of her breath against mine—quick, uneven, reckless. My reflection flashed in the mirror: jaw clenched, eyes dilated, hair mussed by her hands. I looked like a man possessed. No—worse. A man undone. Ava’s mouth parted beneath mine, her lips yielding with every hungry kiss. The taste of her—clean and sweet, threaded with vanilla and something wild—pulled me deeper. My wolf pressed impossibly close, teeth grazing the inside of my mind, yanking at the leash. Claim her here. Now. Let the whole damn building smell it. Not yet, I ground out, though my restraint was little more than a fraying thread. My hands curved around Ava’s waist, pulling her tighter, fingers splayed to feel every inch of heat. Her fingers knotted in my hair, tugging, spurring me on. I grazed my teeth across her jaw, barely holding back the urge to bite. “You’re supposed to be patient,” she whispered, voice shaking against

Damian’s POV I hold her, my Ava—my wife—between worlds. Heat and water swirl with crushed rose petals around us, their scent thick and heady enough to drug my wolf. The remnants of our night linger in the air, imprinted between the lines of her skin: moans muffled by my mouth, whispered confessions, raw promises made with trembling hands. No one would ever know. The world only saw her as my secretary—obedient, useful, unworthy of a second look—but right now she is everything; she is mine. Her body shivers faintly against mine, the bath gone tepid but the aftermath still burning. I keep tracing slow circles on her back, memorizing every dip and ridge, every freckle hidden beneath damp skin and half-drowned rose petals. She’s more beautiful after pleasure, her guard broken, lips swollen, eyes soft and glazed. Under my palm I feel her pulse—steady, alive, fragile—and my heart threatens to shatter with it. She breathes quietly, breaths feathering my jaw and stirring my chest hair. F

Damian’s POVThe water in the bath had cooled, thin wisps of steam curling above the surface before dissolving in the candlelit air. Ava’s body was draped across my lap, liquid and boneless, her pulse fluttering beneath my palm as I cradled her against my chest. Locks of her dark hair trailed over my arm and floated in the water, catching stray rose petals as she shivered. The scent of those petals wound around us—delicate, intoxicating—woven now with the rawer, hungrier scent of skin and sweat and the lingering echo of her release.My wolf paced, restless, beneath my skin—his satisfaction deep but never sated. I could feel him in my blood, humming with pride, demanding I mark every inch of her. That she was still here, trembling and pliant in my arms, wasn’t enough. He wanted permanence.I pressed my lips to her hairline, inhaling deeply. The rim of her ear was flushed, her breath still uneven against the hollow of my throat.“Mine,” the word left my lips, stripped bare of pretense.

Damian's POV I ran my nose along her jaw, breathing in the scent of her skin and my soap, a combination that made some instinct in me settle, made some other urge burn. “I feel it. God, I do.” I let my hand splay wide over her stomach. “But you’re not a prize, Ava. You’re a partner. When you’re ready, all of you—then I’ll mark you, and the world can go to hell if they try to take you from me.” She stilled, then twisted and pressed her mouth to mine, tasting the promise like it was something sweet she’d spent her life looking for. After a moment, we finished in a haze of giggles and gentle touches, more playful now, more assured. We toweled off. Ava borrowed my old button-down, buttoning it only halfway up her chest—a semaphore of comfort and danger I wanted to bury my face in, even though a clock somewhere was ticking. I slipped into a crisp suit, ran my fingers through my damp hair, and fastened my cufflinks. When I looked up, she was reaching up to pin her hair into a sleek twis

Damian’s POVThe boardroom glass gleamed, sterile and cold. Reflections of the skyline cut across the polished table, sharp as blades—an ironic nod to the way business here was done: surgical, precise, merciless. Blackwood Estate’s penthouse office was designed to intimidate, and it performed admirably. At this hour, with the sky bruised violet behind the city’s towers, only the bravest of fools would willingly sit in front of me.Yet here they were—my legal team, gathered in a half-circle flanked by silent assistants. Glossy portfolios, tablet screens, crystal water pitchers left untouched. Most of them had ditched suit jackets in the restroom, an effort to look informal, trustworthy, harmless. As if anything could soften the impression I’d carved into their minds over years of relentless deals.Tonight, their anxiety hung in the air, thick enough to taste. Sweat prickled above starched collars, and every movement carried the faint tang of fear—exposed throats, nervous glances, minu