His Possessive Ways Novels & Stories

Stella used her hands to push his face up. "Not afraid but don't like to share, understand?" "Your behavior is called ... possessive." She explained the symptoms to the man who never loved anyone. He frowned upon for a minute before nodding, then tucked his face on her shoulder. "Whatever. I'm the owner of you now. You belong to me. I don't want anyone to touch my favorite stuff like cars, or you, the same feeling. Something like that. " He explained. Compared her to favorite his cars!

His hands roamed over her body, caressing, claiming, owning. He could feel her body responding to his touch, the quickening of her breath, the way she trembled against him. His voice was a low, guttural rumble as he spoke against her ear, his words filled with a mixture of desire and dominance. "I'm going to make you mine in every possible way, babe. Every. Possible. Way."

It was delivered not in a shout, but in a low, resonant, utterly certain whisper that carried the weight of absolute truth. “You’re mine. That’s who.” The words were not possessive in a romance, cliche way. They were possessive the way a king lays claim to land. The way a master sculptor lays claim to the clay. It was a declaration of creation, of fact, of sole ownership.

He wasn’t drunk yet today, but the alcohol was surely making itself known. “Wow, I knew you were kinky, but…damn!” I smirked, teasing him a bit just to see him fumble. “This is a whole new level.” But instead of his usual shy, stuttering demeanor, he looked up into my eyes, holding my gaze as he spoke next. “It’s not kinky, it’s called being possessive.” He said fearlessly. “I don’t want to share your laughter, you happiness with anyone else. If they see it, they will want to be with you…and I don’t want that to happen.”

“I didn’t know that possessiveness could be that sexy.” I was a little distracted by that, not thinking when I babbled: “Well, now you know how it feels.” “Yeah?” he smirked. “Do you like when I get possessive with you? Do you like when my wolf practically tears through my chest to make sure every other wolf knows who you belong to?” “Shut up,” I whined, my lower abdomen still warm from their unfinished activities. Even the shower hadn’t helped, and it was something he gleefully pointed out.

‘Yo, stop saying that, if Lady Vero heard that, I am not sure where she’ll put you. “BUT SHE IS MINE!!!” he gritted his teeth when he said that. ‘I know and you are just being a possessive husband. I get that already.’ “Leafa, you know me whenever it comes to my possession. I don’t like to share regardless if it was food, a thing, or a person. If they’re mine, they are mine.” he sighed and reminded her of how he acted around the things or person that was important to him. Overly protective to the point it was looked like a possessive one.

"Amelia your mine not anyone else's, so how can I be jealous of what is already mine?" "First I'm not an object, and second use the second definition for jealous," "My intention was not to make you feel like an object and still I don't believe or have suspicions that you are attracted to someone else," he corrected "Use possessive," I said and he frowned bitting the inside of his cheek thinking it over, moving my feet into his lap. "I think possessive is the right way to describe my selfish ways," he mumbled looking back to me, his eyes running over my body.

Esther shook in fear, “Don't worry as long as someone loves you, they won't think of hurting you trust me” “Really?” “Of course” “Are you possessive?” “Me?” He asked pointing at himself “Hmmm” I nodded “Nhhhh, I've never been in love, I use to be a playboy and I've never loved any of them, so I don't know what being possessive is, maybe when I'm in love I can get to experience that feeling”

Why did he even touch my phone in the first place? “Oh, that.” He shrugs casually as he begins to bring out some knives from a cupboard. “One thing you should know is that I'm the possessive type and I hate it when a little girl keeps fawning over my husband. I hate it!” He deadpans and I scoff. Is he fucking claiming ownership of me?

"You're jealous." "I'm possessive," he corrected, his voice dropping to a growl. "There's a difference. Jealousy makes you weak. Possession makes you dangerous." Harper's fingers tightened on her phone. She could feel the evidence of her arousal between her thighs, the lace of her panties suddenly too damp and...constricting. "You have no claim on me," she whispered, but the words lacked conviction. "Don't I?" He sounded amused again, but his tone was darker now. "You came on my fingers, Harper. You begged me to make you come. That's a claim, darling. A permanent one."