Zayden's apartment was dim, illuminated only by the soft glow of an industrial-style chandelier. Irish stood at the bedroom doorway, her heart pounding faster than usual. Meanwhile, Zayden stood not far from her, staring at her with dark, unreadable eyes—both threatening and mesmerizing.
"Come in," Zayden said softly, yet his tone left no room for refusal.
Irish stepped forward slowly, her feet light but her body burning with adrenaline and desire. She knew this wasn't just any ordinary night. This was the beginning of a world she had never imagined before. Zayden's world.
It didn't matter that Irish didn't know what would happen next—after surrendering herself completely. But she refused to back down. Not after Marisha had confronted her so confidently, without a hint of shame or guilt.
"I'm not forcing you," Zayden murmured, stepping closer. "But once you enter this world… you'll be mine. Completely."
Irish met his gaze with newfound determination. "I know. And I… want this. We already talked about it yesterday. So, Uncle, don't waste any more time!"
Zayden exhaled deeply, then gave a single nod. He turned Irish around gently, positioning himself behind her before sweeping her long hair aside, exposing the nape of her neck.
"Kneel," he commanded, pointing to a plush cushion in the center of the room.
Irish obeyed, her knees touching the cool velvet at first. Zayden walked to a side cabinet, pulled open a hidden drawer, and retrieved a collar—black, glossy leather with a small pendant in the shape of the letter Z.
"You'll belong to me, so you need a mark."
He fastened the collar around Irish's neck in a slow, almost ritualistic motion. His fingers brushed against her skin, sending a jolt of electricity through her—subtle yet scorching.
"From now on, you're mine. No one touches you except me. No one satisfies you… except me."
Irish closed her eyes, her breath trembling, her body burning.
Zayden slowly pulled up the hem of Irish's dress, removing it without haste, his intense gaze tracing her skin as if she were a masterpiece to be admired. He wasn't rushed, not wild, just powerfully in control.
"You're too exquisite to be touched with ordinary hands…" he whispered before lowering his lips to her collarbone, then down to her chest, stomach, and inner thighs, making Irish squirm, her body tensing with anticipation.
He looked up at her, his lips curving. "Don't move unless I allow it."
Their game began. His fingers danced across her skin like a violin's melody, creating notes only her body could understand. Meanwhile, Irish restrained herself. Not fighting, not reaching, not crying out too soon.
Zayden teased her with precision and depth. He bound her wrists with wine-red silk, not too tight, just enough to keep her from touching him back. A symbol of control and surrender.
When Zayden finally pushed inside her slowly, breaching the last barrier she had guarded, time seemed to stop. Irish's body stiffened, her breath caught, and her eyes welled with unrestrained emotion.
"Your first time?" Zayden asked in a rough, almost frustrated voice. He could feel how fragile that barrier had been. His grip on her waist tightened as if debating whether to continue.
Irish shut her eyes, biting her lower lip against the sharp sensation, yet she hooked her legs around Zayden's waist, refusing to let him pull away.
"Just keep going!" she hissed, breathless. "Don't stop! I wanted you to be my first…"
Zayden studied her face, seeing the raw honesty in every silent tear that fell. Slowly, he kissed her cheeks, then her temples, as if soothing the storm he had unleashed.
But his restraint was slipping. He loved her in silence, and tonight, their bodies had sworn an oath to each other.
"You're the first woman… to make me your first man," Zayden rasped before he began moving slow, controlled, and deep.
Every thrust felt like a promise, every breath a prayer. He didn't rush, even as his own desire threatened to explode. He wanted Irish to remember everything.
The pain that melted into pleasure, the tension that dissolved into surrender, the power that transformed into bonding.
Irish writhed beneath him, her body responding to every movement with trembling intensity. Her silk-bound fingers clawed at the air, and when Zayden nipped at her shoulder, her chest, leaving wet, red marks, her body arched perfectly.
"Good girl," he whispered in her ear, making her moan even deeper, melting at those words.
They moved together in a rhythmic, controlled dance. Each of Zayden's thrusts was intoxicating.
"Uncle…" Irish bit her lower lip.
Sweat mingled on their skin. Irish had never felt more alive. When her body trembled and her climax shattered in a long, breathless moan, Zayden held her tighter as if shielding her from the outside world.
After the earth-shattering climax, Zayden slowly pulled away and undid her binds. He laid Irish against his broad chest, stroking her hair gently.
"You're mine now," he murmured.
Irish only smiled faintly, her body still trembling slightly. "And you're mine."
She hugged Zayden tightly, relieved that tonight had finally happened. The warm wetness inside her made her hope—that their child would soon be conceived.
****
Irish's body still trembled softly as Zayden pulled the blanket over their naked forms. But he didn't give her an inch of space to move away. He held her close, letting his fingers trace her spine, down to the curve of her hips, still warm from their earlier passion.
"I didn't expect it to be this beautiful," Zayden murmured, his voice deep and rough, brushing over Irish's skin like magic.
Irish lifted her chin, meeting his dark eyes, still burning, but now softer, gentler.
"Only this beautiful?" she teased, raising a brow. "And I haven't even shown all my pet's sides yet, Uncle! Why is it so hard to match what you want?"
A wicked smirk curled Zayden's lips. He pinched the inside of her thigh lightly, making her jolt with a gasp.
"Bold words for someone still shaking from what I just did to you."
"I loved it," Irish whispered, leaning in, letting her lips brush his jawline in a soft tease. "But you haven't cleaned me up yet… Uncle. Didn't you say you'd soothe me? Take away the soreness?"
Zayden chuckled lowly. "Bratty and seductive. A dangerous combination."
He rose, fetching a warm towel he'd prepared earlier, then returned to the bed.
Slowly, he wiped Irish's body, her neck, chest, down to her thighs and between her legs, where her breath hitched again. But this time, Zayden was only caring for her.
"I love you like this," Irish murmured, her fingers tracing his chest, his muscles. "Warm, caring, but still terrifying. I love this side of you!"
"Terrifying?" Zayden arched a brow.
"In a way that makes me addicted." Irish flicked her tongue, licking his chest lightly. "You're not just my first, Zayden. You're the one I've been waiting for."
Zayden pulled her into his lap, letting her body press fully against his. His large hand gripped her hair, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"And you'll stay mine. Not just in bed, but out there too." He kissed her lips slowly, full of promise. "Are you ready for the consequences?"
Irish licked her lower lip. "If you dare, I dare more."
Zayden let out a low laugh, lifting Irish and laying her back down.
"Don't challenge me… unless you're ready for a long night."
"That's exactly what I want! For it to be even longer!" she murmured, slowly climbing atop him.
Zayden's eyes narrowed as he watched Irish, shamelessly straddling him, her naked body bathed in the dim apartment light.
"I want to know… how it feels to have control over a man like you," Irish whispered, her fingers tracing his jaw, then down his chest, scratching lightly. "Even if just for a moment."
She smirked mischievously. Leaning down, she kissed Zayden softly at first, then deeper, hungrier. She rolled her hips slowly, grinding against his hardening length.
Zayden growled, his hands almost reflexively gripping her hips, but he held back. "You're playing with fire, Irish."
"Then burn me…" Irish whispered the words right into his ear before nipping his earlobe.
With one slow, sensual motion, she guided him back inside her, swallowing him deep, making them both moan. But her control didn't last long.
Zayden gritted his teeth, flipping her beneath him again. "Enough playing."
"I was just starting to enjoy my position--"
"And I'll enjoy you in yours," Zayden hissed before claiming her again... deeper, faster, hotter. His thrusts were harder, stronger, his desire blazing uncontrollably.
Irish clutched the sheets, her body arching under the overwhelming sensations.
"Hey…" Irish gasped between moans and kisses. "If you treat me like this every night… I won't be able to walk tomorrow."
Zayden smirked, biting her shoulder sharply. "That's the point."
He ignored everything else, including Marisha's incessant phone calls.
"You're not going to answer that?" Irish teased.
"You want me to ignore it, don't you?" Zayden thrust harder. "Relax. Tonight is ours."
And in that passion-filled apartment, drenched in sweat and whispered dominance, they lost themselves once more in a wild, heated rhythm.