Todos los capítulos de Forced To Marry: Claimed By The Obsessed Billionaire: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

(Damian’s POV)My patience wore entirely thin. I grabbed Susan by the arm with extreme force, hauling her body off the floor without a shred of gentleness. Grabbing a tissue from the desk, I quickly wiped down the mahogany surface and tossed the paper into the trash. I turned my attention back to the redhead. Wrapping my hand firmly around her throat, I pinned her upright against the desk while using my other hand to squeeze her breast with brutal force.Susan let out a loud groan of mixed pain and arousal, but I wasn't there to be gentle. I didn't make love; I fucked hard, discharging my aggression and rage. I slammed her body facedown onto the mahogany desk, forcing her to bend over. With a swift, brutal jerk, I shoved my hands beneath her red dress, gripped the sides of her panties, and ripped the thin fabric apart without an ounce of mercy.I lifted one of Susan’s legs, propping her foot onto the desk to fully expose her intimacy. Her lips were thin and tight. I slid my middle fin

(Damian’s POV)I locked the heavy wooden door of the red room from the outside. The sharp click of the deadbolt echoed like a death sentence inside the suffocating, dark-leather-lined space. Helen remained frozen near the entrance. Her chin was held high, her jaw clenched, her face locked in a mask of false bravery. But the heavy heaving of her voluptuous chest and the subtle tremor in her shoulders betrayed the raw panic trying to consume her from the inside out.I approached her without rushing, letting my massive silhouette engulf her entirely, trapping her against the wall."What are you going to do to me?" she asked. Her voice tried to come out steady, but it cracked at the very end, her green eyes locked onto mine."I am going to discipline you, Helen," I replied, my voice raspy and low, barely a growl against her face. "The first lesson you are going to learn today is that this body belongs to me. The only person who has the right to touch you, to hurt you, or to do anything to

Helen’s POVThe water in the bathtub had already grown cold by the time the sound of Damian’s footsteps faded down the hallway. I remained frozen, arms crossed over my bent knees, staring at the remnant white foam floating on the marble surface. My skin still burned. Where the patches of red wax had been ripped away by his fingers, circular crimson stains remained—a map of marks covering my thighs and the curve of my belly.I stretched my trembling hands to the edge and anchored my feet against the slippery bottom of the tub. I stood up slowly. My legs wavered, an involuntary tremor in my calf muscles forcing me to brace my weight against the dark tiled wall before I could step out of the enclosure. I grabbed the plush towel he had left on the vanity. The coarse fabric brushed against the marks of the spanking on my buttocks, wrenching a low gasp from my throat as I dug my teeth into my lower lip.In the mirror, my face was entirely devoid of color. My green eyes were wide, my temples

Helen’s POVHis fingers tightened a bit more around my neck, locking my position. Damian’s face came so close that I could see the hard lines etched around his eyes."Listen to me carefully, girl," he whispered right against my ear, his hot breath sending chills down the back of my neck. "The only person who has the right to touch you, to leave marks on this pale skin, or to make you bleed is me. If another man dares to lay a hand on what belongs to me, I kill him. I don't care if he shares your last name. Do you want to find out if I'm bluffing?"My hands dropped against his chest. The absolute absurdity of his words left me breathless, but the physical firmness of his posture left no room for doubt."You're insane..." I murmured.Damian slowly released my neck, his fingers sliding down my skin before pulling away completely. Seizing the opening, I pushed past his arm and walked fast toward the dressing room's private bathroom, locking the door behind me.I braced my hands on the ma

 (Damian’s POV) The wind blowing from Lake Michigan carried the scent of scrap iron and diesel fuel. I stood in the shadows of Terminal 4, watching the endless rows of stacked shipping containers that looked like blocks of dark concrete against the Chicago sky. My knuckles were still red from the force I had used back in the garage, and the taste of Helen Rossi’s blood remained sharp in my memory. The rear door of the black van parked in the darkness opened with a soft click. I stepped inside, leaving the piercing chill of the port behind. The vehicle's interior was illuminated only by the bluish glow of three high-definition monitors. Sitting before them, fingers flying across a mechanical keyboard, was Charles. He wore a ragged hoodie, his eyes locked onto the lines of code cascading down the screen, but he didn't nee