His Dangerous Love On Ice Chapter 156: Olive's Pov

I arched off the bed with a cry, my hands pulling uselessly at the belt binding my wrists as his tongue moved against me with devastating precision.

This wasn't gentle exploration. This was a claiming.

His hands gripped my thighs hard enough to leave bruises, holding me open and still while he devoured me like a man starving.

"Zane—" His name came out broken, desperate.

He hummed against me in response, the vibration making my hips buck.

He'd done this before—used his mouth on me until I was mindless and begging—but this was different.

This was punishment and possession all wrapped into one.

Every time I got close to the edge, he pulled back, slowing down just enough to keep me hovering without letting me fall.

"Please," I gasped. "Please, I need—"

"What do you need?" He looked up at me, his lips glistening, eyes dark with lust. "Tell me."

"You. I need you."

"Be specific." His tongue flicked against me once, twice. "What exactly do you need from me, Olive?"

I was past the point of embarrassment. Past the point of pride.

"I need you inside me," I begged. "Please, Zane. Please."

He smiled, slow and predatory.

"Since you asked so nicely."

He stood up, his hands moving to his zipper, zipping it down, and I watched with desperate anticipation as he stripped his pants, and off the rest of his clothes.

And then he was there—gloriously, overwhelmingly naked—and I had about two seconds to appreciate how unfairly perfect he looked before he was climbing onto the bed and settling between my thighs.

"Look at me," he commanded.

I met his eyes.

"You're mine," he said again, and there was something almost vulnerable in his voice beneath all that possessive fury. "Say it."

"I'm yours."

"And who do you belong to?"

"You. I belong to you."

"That's right."

He pushed into me in one hard thrust that made me cry out, made my back arch off the bed, made every nerve ending in my body light up at once.

"Fuck," he groaned, his forehead dropping to my shoulder. "I forgot how good you feel."

He didn't move for a moment, just stayed there, buried deep inside me while I adjusted to the fullness of him.

Then he pulled out almost completely and slammed back in.

I screamed.

"That's it," he growled against my neck. "Let them hear you. Let everyone in this building know who you belong to."

He set a brutal pace—hard and fast and claiming—and I couldn't do anything but take it, my hands still bound above my head, my body completely at his mercy.

"Is this what you needed?" he asked, his voice rough with exertion. "Is this what you were thinking about on your date with him?"

"Yes—" I gasped.

"Did you think about me fucking you like this?" Another hard thrust that made stars explode behind my eyes. "About me making you mine?"

"Yes, god, yes—"

"He could never do this for you." His hand fisted in my hair, pulling my head back so he could bite down on my exposed throat. "Could never make you feel like this. Could never own you the way I do."

He was right. God help me, he was right.

No one had ever made me feel like this. No one had ever taken me apart and put me back together with such devastating precision.

"Please," I begged, because I was so close, so desperately close. "Please, Zane, I need—"

"I know what you need." His hand slid between us, fingers finding that spot that made my vision go white. "But you don't get it until you promise me something."

"Anything," I gasped. "I'll promise anything."

"Promise me you'll never leave me again." His thrusts were getting harder, faster, more desperate. "Promise me this is real. That we're real."

"I promise—"

"Say it properly." His fingers moved faster, pressure building to an almost painful degree. "Say 'I promise I'll never leave you again.'"

"I promise I'll never leave you again," I sobbed out, right on the edge of breaking. "I promise, Zane. I'm yours. I'm yours."

"Good girl." His voice was rough with something that sounded almost like relief. "Now come for me."

His fingers pressed down hard at the same moment he hit that spot deep inside me, and I shattered.

The orgasm ripped through me so hard I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but scream his name and shake apart while he kept moving inside me, dragging it out until I thought I might actually die from the pleasure.

"That's it," he groaned. "Fuck, Olive—"

His rhythm faltered and then he was there too, burying himself deep as he came with a sound that was half-groan, half-growl.

For a long moment we just stayed like that, both of us breathing hard, his weight pressing me into the mattress, my wrists still bound above my head.

Then he reached up and undid the belt, freeing my hands.

I immediately wrapped my arms around him, holding him close even though my muscles were shaking from the strain of being held in one position for so long.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, his lips brushing my temple.

"I'm perfect," I whispered.

He rolled to the side, pulling me with him so I was tucked against his chest, and we lay there in the darkness while our breathing slowly returned to normal.

"I meant what I said," he said finally. "About you being mine."

"I know."

"And I meant what I said about never letting you go."

I looked up at him, at the fierce possessiveness still burning in his eyes.

"Good," I said. "Because I don't think I could leave you even if I wanted to."

His arms tightened around me.

"You're not allowed to want to," he said, and there was something almost playful in his voice beneath the intensity.

I smiled against his chest.

For the first time in almost two weeks, I felt like I could breathe.

Like maybe—just maybe—we were going to be okay.

Even if I was keeping secrets about Judy Byron and Klaus and connections I didn't understand or trying to bury.

Even if Zane was keeping his own secrets about whatever the hell had happened between him and my brother if they were true.

For now, in this moment, we were together.

And that was enough.