Contract Marriage To The Alpha King のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

Damian's POV She bucked beneath me, a desperate, futile attempt to dislodge me, to escape my relentless advance, but I was unyielding, a crushing weight she could not escape. I settled between her thighs, my hands gripping her hips, my fingers digging into her flesh, holding her still. I leaned in, my breath hot and ragged against her most intimate place, the scent of her fear and her rising arousal mingling in the air, intoxicating me further. She tensed, her body coiling with a palpable mix of fear and an unwilling, traitorous desire. I looked up at her, my eyes locking with hers, burning into her soul, and I saw the exact moment she realized there was no escape, no reprieve. The dawning horror in her eyes was a dark, exhilarating triumph. I lowered my head, my tongue darting out to taste her, a single, deliberate stroke. She cried out, a sharp, choked sound, her body arching off the bed in a spasm of pure sensation and terror as I explored her folds, my tongue delving deep, tas

Damian's POV Last night had been different. It hadn't just been instinct, a base biological urge. It was something darker, something twisted and fueled by a depth of rage and humiliation I hadn't known I possessed. And I hadn’t realized just how far it would push me. How far I would push her. I stared at my hands. They still shook faintly, almost imperceptibly, as though echoing the violence of what they’d done, of what I had become. They were the instruments of her ruin. Was it because of what she’d said? The venomous words echoed in my skull. "He’s my life. I love him more than anything. Without him I can’t live." Those words. Her voice saying them, broken yet defiant. The thought of her loving someone else, thinking about someone else when she was mine—my mated omega, my wife—had made something in me snap. It had shattered the carefully constructed facade of my control, unleashing a beast I barely recognized. And I’d shown her, with every brutal thrust, every de

Ava's POV I didn’t know how long I sat there. Time had lost all meaning, dissolving into an endless, agonizing stretch of silence and shame. The tears had long since dried on my cheeks, leaving behind stiff, salty streaks on my skin that felt like physical scars. My body felt hollow, achingly empty, yet simultaneously heavy, weighted down by an invisible burden. My mind was numb, a fragile shield against the raw, screaming pain beneath. At some point, the crushing exhaustion must have pulled me into some form of half-sleep, a shallow, restless oblivion, because the faint, almost imperceptible sound of the bedroom door opening startled me so badly my breath caught, a ragged, terrified gasp trapped in my throat. I froze. Every muscle in my body tensed, rigid and unyielding. The soft, almost silent click of the handle. The heavy, measured footsteps on the polished floorboards—each one a drumbeat against my shattered nerves, growing closer, inexorable. I didn’t look up. I couldn’t. M

Ava's POV By the time I walked out of the bathroom, feeling raw and scraped clean, the bedroom was empty. Just like last night, after he had finished, he was nowhere to be seen. No trace of him remained, save for the lingering scent, the unsettling chill on his side of the bed, and the indelible stain of crimson on the sheets. His absence was a louder statement than any confrontation could have been. I forced myself to move through the motions, each action a painstaking effort, a battle against the overwhelming inertia of despair. I dressed mechanically, my fingers clumsy as I chose a simple, high-necked blouse and a long, flowing skirt – anything to cover as much skin as possible, to create a barrier between myself and the world. I fixed my hair with practiced, numb movements, pulling it back severely from my face, as if to strip away any vulnerability. I applied light makeup, more a mask than cosmetics, attempting to hide the exhaustion that clung to my features like a second skin

Ava's POV The drive to the sprawling Blackwood Industries office complex was silent at first, a fragile, taut quiet that hummed with unspoken words and unresolved violence. I sat rigidly, pressed against the cool, unforgiving leather of the car door, my body instinctively seeking distance, however futile, from the man beside me. My hands were clasped tightly in my lap, fingers intertwined, knuckles white, a desperate attempt to anchor myself, to hold onto some semblance of control in a world that had tilted irrevocably off its axis. Outside, the city blurred into a stream of muted colors and indistinct shapes—buildings rising into the clear morning sky, busy streets teeming with oblivious commuters, their lives untouched by the raw horror that clung to me like a second skin. Damian sat beside me, impossibly close, yet maintaining an illusion of casual detachment. One arm was draped lazily along the backrest, his long, powerful legs stretched out, relaxed, but his presence was so hea