"Stop it," I whisper.
"Why?" His breath is on my lips as he forces me to look him in the eyes, the embrace of the dance an intimate prelude to something obscene. There are no other words for it as the contours of my body are molded to his, his erection not going unnoticed as he pushes it into my belly. "It's the truth," he purrs at me. "No one but me can see you naked. No one but me can touch you. And sure as fuck no one but me can fuck you. Is that clear?" His tone takes a harsher note as he spits the last words.
I stare at him speechless.
"You're insane," I shake my head at him. "How about this then, golden boy? Have you earned the right to fuck me?" I ask as I look into his eyes unflinchingly.
If he thinks to intimidate me with his intensity, then he'll have a surprise on his hands. Because I know that if I let him walk all over me now, it's going to set the tone for our entire marriage.
He narrows his eyes at me. "I'm your husband."
"In name only," I roll my eyes at him. "And it's not like I married you because I wanted to."
"Aw, Y/n, is this when you tell me you don't want me? That you're not dying to have my hands on you? I know you're probably dripping right now thinking about my cock pressed into you…sliding into you," his voice is a hypnotizing sound as I find myself lost in his eyes, lulled into a sense of urgency as heat spreads all over my body.
"Shut up," I whisper, mustering all the strength I can to put some mental distance between us.
"You can lie to yourself all you want." The corner of his mouth tugs up in arrogance. "But the truth is that you want me. No matter how much you may hate that."
His words are accompanied by the light caress of his fingertips over my shoulder, that touch leaving a blazing trail in its wake.
"It's purely physical," I thrust his hand aside, struggling to remove the fog that's seeking to cloud my mind. "Isn't that what you said?" I smile when I see him frown. "You're a handsome man," I shrug, "but so are a lot of other people around here. Why, Lyra's husband was quite dashing. There was also the man I was dancing with…"
"Y/n," he grits my name in a strained voice.
"What?" I lift a brow. "Are you going to ask me if I get wet for them too?" I ask brazenly, a need to rile him up and establish some boundaries foremost in my mind.
"Careful, wife. You're going too far."
"Am I? It's just a physical reaction after all," I give a low chuckle, his expression telling me he's one moment away from exploding.
Ah, but isn't he just giving me all the ammunition I need to get to him?
Who knew that golden boy could be so insanely jealous?
"Newsflash, Jungkook," I continue in a staunch tone. Jabbing my finger at his chest, I look him straight in the eyes. "Being my husband doesn't give you any rights to my person. You're being too outrageous right now. First, you order me to lie about finding the rest of the people here attractive just to appease some primitive male ego thing you have going on, and now you prohibit me from talking to anyone because you might shoot them?"
"Lie," he repeats, his tone dead. "Lie?" he asks again, but this time he forgoes any waltz etiquette as he brings his hand to my nape, bringing me closer to his face and holding me there. Staring down at me, I can see the flare of his nostrils and that twitch in his jaw I've come to associate with his barely in control state. "You lied," he gives a dry laugh. "Do tell then. Who else do you find attractive?" he demands in an ominous tone.
"Why, so you can shoot them?" I snicker.
"Careful, little one, you're treading on thin ice," he mutters, his voice ice cold as I realize he's getting increasingly pissed.
"What? Next you're going to hit me, too?" I shoot back unconsciously.
My eyes widen when I realize my words, but it's nothing compared to how Jungkook's entire countenance changes, shock written all over his face.
"I would never hit a woman, Y/n," he states bitterly. "I would never lay a hand on a woman, so don't go comparing me with Danilo."
"Right. Then what is it exactly that you're doing here? Because from where I'm standing it's not that different. All of you want to control me. Tell me how to dress, how to act, and who to talk to. How is that any different, JK? How?" I ask in an exasperated tone.
I'm sick of being locked in a cage. I'm sick of having my every move scrutinized. I'm sick of always messing up and being branded an embarrassment. And most of all, I'm sick of letting it all happen.
"See, that's where you're wrong. I'm not trying to control you," he drawls, his pupils growing bigger right under my eyes. "I'm telling you who you belong to," he says right as he nuzzles his face in the crook of my shoulder.
"What? What are you doing?" I startle as I feel his skin on mine, his mouth a soft caress that makes me weak in the knees.
"This," he whispers before his lips close over the sensitive skin just below my ear, sucking it in his mouth.
My eyes widen in shock as I realize what he's doing.
"You're being indecent," I half-heartedly chastise him, the heat of his mouth on my skin doing things to me—wicked, wicked things that leave me trembling with pent-up longing.
"Am I?" He smiles against my skin. "I think I'm not being indecent enough," he states in a confident tone right before I feel his teeth bite down on my flesh.
I jerk in his arms, but it's not due to the pain. It's because his hand has already wandered lower, cupping my ass as he sucks on my neck like he's out for blood.
Maybe he is…
The realization is startling as he finally comes up for air, the barest hint of blood on his lips as he beams at me in satisfaction.
"And this," he rasps in that suave voice of his, "is how everyone knows who you belong to now."
His tongue sneaks out to lick the drops of blood, but I'm too stunned to react.
I'm barely aware of myself and the fact that everyone is staring at us now, some couples even stopping mid-dance to frown at the display.
Bringing my hand to my neck, I feel for the hickey he left behind, my fingers coming up stained with red.
I raise my head and my eyes meet his. "You're a bastard," I tell him squarely.
"Oh, contrary to common belief, my parents were married when they had me," his lips draw up in an infuriating smirk.
I clench my hands by my side, tears of frustration burning behind my eyes.
Here he is, the man who promised he'd do better—treat me better, the same one who abandoned me in favor of strangers not too long after. And now, the one who humiliated me at my first social event. All in an attempt to lay his claim on me like I were some sort of object to be possessed.
"Gee, I'm surprised you didn't pee on me," I mutter drily, masking my growing ire, "since you're so keen on marking your territory."
"Hmm," he intones, his tongue doing weird acrobatics on his lip and thoroughly distracting my attention, "I think that can be arranged." A slow smile spreads on his face. "But it would be something completely different I'd mark you with," he winks at me.
"What are you talking about?" I frown as I realize he's turned the tables on me somehow.
"Wouldn't you want to know?" he pauses, assessing me intently before coming closer and tipping my jaw up. Then, lowering his mouth to my ear, he whispers the most obscene things I've heard in my life.
"I'll fuck you so hard, Y/n, I'll erase all thoughts of other men from your mind." He pulls me closer, the contact bringing his hardness into me. "I'll fill your sweet little pussy so full of my cum you'll overflow with it. And you'll take it like the bad, bad girl that you are—my bad girl. I'll watch the pretty pink of that gorgeous pussy of yours stained with the white of my seed and I don't think I would ever tire of the sight. Because I'll know that you're mine. Only mine. Fucked, marked and fucked again."
My sudden intake of breath makes him pause, amusement in his voice as he continues.
"But it wouldn't be enough. Oh, no. It would never be enough. I'd paint your entire body with my cum so everyone knows you're mine and mine alone. That you take my cock and no one else's. How does that sound?" His hot breath on my skin threatens to be my undoing. "But that wouldn't be enough either, would it?" He muses, his tongue sneaking out to lick my earlobe. "I'll make you choke on my cock so hard, you'll never be able to utter another man's name."
"Wh—what…" the words tumble out of my mouth in shock.
"That's right. You should be scandalized, Y/n. Because the things I want to do to you—the things I will do to you…" he trails off, and I feel him smirk against my skin. "They will leave you breathless, wordless, but so thoroughly fucked you won't ever think to argue with me again. You'll never question who you belong to, and when my cum covers every fucking inch of your body, no one else will either." He pauses. "You make a savage out of me, pretty girl. And a savage I will act."
To my great surprise, his words don't anger me, they don't leave me afraid. They only leave me…wanting. A rush of heat travels between my legs and I clench my thighs together to find some relief.
He sees it too because he has a smug look on his face, those clear blue eyes sparkling with mischief as he realizes he has me exactly where he wanted me—in the palm of his hand.
"Ah," he cups my jaw, his thumb swiping over my lips. "That expression right there is making me want to take you against the nearest wall," he murmurs as he parts my lips.
The music is playing in my ear, but I can't hear it. I can only hear and see him. Him, with his scandalous words and smoldering eyes. My attention is wholly focused on him.
And as he stares down at me, his irises swirling in a kaleidoscope of blue—every emotion reflected in his eyes—I feel myself falling into him.
Like a black hole, he swallows me whole, every corner of my being touched by his.
How is it possible to want someone so much yet not at the same time?
Because I do want him.
Sometimes I want him more than my next breath.
But I also know that he isn't right for me. If I allow myself to be caught in his web, I won't escape with my life intact.
"You're taking this too far, JK," I manage to string some words together.
"Oh, trust me, I'm not taking this far enough," he gives a dry laugh. "Do you know how torturous it is to sleep beside you but not touch you?"
"Who asked you to sleep besides me," I mumble, though heat travels to my cheeks at his admission.
And here I was wondering if he didn't desire me anymore…
"That's my place as your husband. In your bed. By your side. Between your legs…"
My eyes widen at him only to see him smile in satisfaction. He wants to rile me up, see me turn the deepest shade of red so he can assuage his strange male pride.
"Are you making fun of me now?" I ask in a serious tone. "Is that what it is? You know I'm not experienced with this. Are you trying to make me blush on purpose? Get me out of my comfort zone?"
He blinks at my accusation before his face hardens.
"Yes. I want to make you blush, and I want to take you out of your comfort zone. But I'm not trying to make fun of you, Y/n. Never that," his voice softens. "This innocence that clings to you drives me insane," he rasps. "You make me want to take care of you and surround you in a protective cocoon, but you also make me want to take you over my knee for your impudent tongue."
My eyes flash at him, the memory of his palm on my ass still fresh in my mind. And though I'd never admit it, I liked it. Oh, I liked it far more than I should have. And that is the problem. Because how can someone with my history derive pleasure from it? As if reading my thoughts, he continues.
"But don't worry. I wouldn't hurt you. I would never hurt you. I'd spank your little ass and you'd moan in pleasure, asking me for more…"
My lips part of their own accord, my breath coming in short spurts. It's enough for him to take advantage and push his thumb in, making me suck on it.
His pupils grow larger—if that's even possible—as he stares at my mouth.
"Everyone thinks you're weak," he comments, shaking his head in amusement. "You're anything but, Y/n. You might be innocent but you're certainly not weak. And that's exactly what I admire about you. You're strong despite everything you've been through, and I know you'd be able to take my intensity."
"Jungkook," I whimper as he draws me to his chest, the waltz seemingly continuing as the attention is diverted from us.
He twirls me on the dance floor, and when my body collides with his, the tightness of his embrace makes me light headed.
"Fuck… You make me feel so out of control," he states, almost mad at himself. "So fucking out of control that I feel like I'm going crazy."
"I feel that too," I whisper, our eyes glued to one another. "But you're also driving me crazy with your hot and cold attitude. I don't know where I stand with you, JK. I never do. One moment you're nice to me, the next you're back to being an asshole. I can't read you," I tell him, exasperated.
"Hell, Y/n…" He releases an anguished sound as he brings my face close to his, our foreheads touching. The dance etiquette is all but forgotten as we give in to the moment, shaping the waltz with movements of our own.
"It's not my intention to confuse you. But fuck if I know what's happening half the time. I've never felt like this…this powerless and this fucking angry for no reason at all."