Chased by My Possessive Ex (Dylan) novel Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Chapter 47

DYLAN

I don’t know what came over me, but something inside me snapped–an unfamiliar heat that burned through every ounce of reason I had left. The sight of him earlier, with another woman’s hands on him, had stirred. something deep within me. Something I didn’t even know I was capable of feeling.

It was a primal kind of pull, a raw instinct that clawed its way out of me. A part of me that refused to stay quiet any longer. I wanted to claim him, to make sure he knew exactly who he belonged to. I suddenly had an urge to become territorial. I need to guard what’s mine.

He is mine.

No matter how I tried to twist it in my head, the truth came out the same. He belonged to me now, just as much as I belonged to him. He was my husband–whether he liked it or not–and I wasn’t going to let anyone else touch what was already mine.

I had shared too much in the past. My heart, my love, my patience. I had watched someone I loved choose another woman, and I swore I would never let that happen again. Not with him. Not with Hunter.

He may not have promised forever, but right now, he was mine to hold, mine to want, and mine to keep. And I wasn’t about to give that

up for

for anyone.

“Touch me again, and I’m going to kick you out of this room,” I warned him.

He chuckled, “You’re the one who’s on top of me, sweetheart. You can’t hold it against me if I can’t help myself.”

“Shut up,” I snapped, though it came out softer than I meant. Before he could say another word, I grabbed his face and crushed my lips against his.

The kiss was fierce and desperate. His laughter died beneath my mouth as our breaths tangled, the heat between us swallowing everything else. I didn’t care about his smug grin or his taunting words anymore. I just wanted to feel him–his warmth, his breath, the way his heart thudded against mine.

His hands found my waist, fingers pressing lightly at first, as if testing how far I would let him go. I didn’t stop him. If anything, I moved closer, pressing harder against him, tasting the faint hint of whiskey still lingering on his lips.

He kissed me back then, no hesitation this time. The room seemed to spin around us, the air thick and heavy, every breath a battle between anger and want. I hated how easily he made me feel this way–how a few words, a look, or a touch could break me apart and pull me right back to him all at once.

When I finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, his eyes were on me–dark, hungry, and burning with something that made my pulse race all over again.

“Still want me to keep my hands to myself?” he asked, voice low and teasing, but there was a hint of challenge in it.

I swallowed hard, refusing to answer, because we both knew the truth.

Chapter 47

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His question hung in the air, thick and heavy, like smoke that refused to fade. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, the way his eyes lingered on my lips, then trailed down to where my chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. My heart thudded painfully against my ribs, but I refused to look away.

Instead, I straightened, trying to regain even a hint of control. “You talk too much,” I muttered, though my voice betrayed me, softer than I intended.

Hunter’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “Maybe. But I don’t mind if you would like to shut me up once again.”

My pulse skipped, and before I could think of a comeback, he moved–slow but deliberate. His hand brushed. against my thigh, a light touch that sent shivers up my spine. Every nerve in my body seemed to react to him, every inch of me aware of his closeness.

“You don’t seem to take my warning seriously,” I warned, but it came out as more of a whisper than a threat.

He tilted his head, that maddening smirk still playing on his lips. “That, or I was just a willing victim,” he murmured.

I wanted to be firm, but my body betrayed me before my lips could move. My breath came out shallow, my fingers clutching the sheets for balance.

Hunter tried to pull me closer, but this time, I didn’t let him take the lead. I pressed him back against the bed, my palms flat on his chest, my breath coming out uneven but sure.

He looked at me–eyes dark, surprised–but didn’t stop me. His lips parted as though to speak, but I silenced him with a finger against his mouth. “You’re mine, Mr. De Marco. And I’ll show what will happen when you piss off your wife,” I whispered.

Something in him shifted then. The usual teasing spark in his eyes dimmed into something deeper, heavier. He let his hands fall to his sides, surrendering, watching me with that quiet intensity that always set my skin on fire.

I traced his jaw with my fingertips, letting them travel down his throat, over the rise and fall of his chest. Every touch made him tense beneath me, a shiver running through him that only fed the strange, reckless thrill pulsing through my veins.

All the frustration, the jealousy, the ache I’d tried to bury–it all came rushing to the surface. I kissed him hard, with all the things I didn’t know how to say, all the emotions I’d been too afraid to name. His breath hitched against my mouth, but he didn’t resist. He let me take, let me demand.

I started removing his shirts one after another, which he didn’t protest. I left a trail of kisses from his neck down to his throat up to his chest as I slowly unbuttoned his shirt. With each kiss I planted along the way, I can hear his sharp breathing.

I deliberately make my movement slower, and I can feel his body tense in too much anticipation.

He grunted. “You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he murmured.

I looked at him and replied, “Exactly what I’m aiming for,” as I continued to move lower until I reached the buckle of his belt.

15:42 Mon, Dec 29 d.

Chapter 47

I heard him take a sharp breath as I slowly unbuckled his belt.

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He looked me in the eye before he whispered, “Don’t start something you can’t handle, little dove.”

“Who says I can’t handle it, Mister?” I challenged him.

He smirked as he shook his head, “You’ll be the death of me.”

I proceed to pull his pants down, revealing his shaft–hard and ready. I started licking cock like a popsicle while I maintained my eye contact with him. I saw his jaw clench and his eyes darken dangerously as he watched my every move. I’m not exactly an expert with this thing, but I was trying my best to please him.

He grunted the moment I started swallowing his whole. I almost gagged when I felt the tip of his manhood hitting the back of my throat. I tried to move my head up and down, but I could feel his body wince whenever my teeth scraped against his member.

He pushed himself to sit up. He was grinning like a child as he slowly caressed my head. “You haven’t done this before?” he asked.

I stopped what I was doing and looked at him with pouted lips before I gently nodded my head–feeling embarrassed.

His smile widened before patting my head. “Cute,” he commented, which made me frown in annoyance and embarrassment.

“I’m sorry if I’m not like your other women who were experts on this kind of thing.” I roll my eyes at him. L wanted to leave the room as soon as possible to save myself from further embarrassment. I was about to get off the bed when he grabbed my waist and pulled me back against him.

“Jealous?” He whispered, his breath brushing against my face.

I scoffed, “In your dreams.” I tried to push him away, but he tightened his arms around me.

He let out a low chuckle, his gaze drifting over me with a warmth that made my skin prickle. “Good to know I’m the only man who’s ever been touched by you like this.”

His words settled between us, thick and warm, curling around my spine like a slow burn. I felt my breath catch, not out of embarrassment, but because of the way he said it. There was pride in his voice, yes, but something else too–something possessive, something hungry, something that made my pulse stumble.

I leaned closer, close enough to feel the heat of his breath against my cheek. “Don’t sound so smug,” I murmured. “You’re starting to piss me off. I might decide to stop right now.”

He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in that infuriatingly teasing way he always used to get under my skin. “You really want me to die, huh? You do realize I’m at your mercy?”

“Then quit talking before I change my mind,” I answered.

He smirked. “Got it, boss,” he replied playfully.

That was my cue to continue what I’m doing. I lowered my head once again and started licking his whole.

15:42 Mon, Dec 29 d

Chapter 47

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This time, he didn’t lie down. He watched me intently like he was watching a movie and he didn’t want to miss a thing.

I can hear his sharp breathing as I continue to move my head up and down his shaft. His mouth formed a huge “O” whenever I tried to take his whole deeper into my mouth. It didn’t take long before my jaw started to hurt because of his size. But despite the discomfort, I was determined to pleasure him.

I could feel his breath change, turning sharp and uneven, each exhale brushing the air with a low, helpless sound he probably didn’t even realize he was making. His hands fisted the sheets, knuckles white, his whole body tightening as I continued to suck him whole.

The more he reacted, the more a new kind of confidence sparked inside me. I liked watching him come apart. I liked knowing I could do this to him. I liked the way his control slipped every time I pushed a little further, a little deeper into my mouth.

He throws his head back, letting out a low grunt before looking at me once again. I saw how his eyes immediately rolled back. A slow, wicked satisfaction curls through my chest. Hunter was strong, composed, and stubborn to a fault–yet here he was, trembling for me, unraveling because of what I was doing.

“Dylan…” he breathed out, voice strained and raw. My name didn’t sound like a word anymore. It sounded like surrender.

I felt a small ache forming in my jaw, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to stop. The way he reacted, the way he couldn’t stay still, the way his hips jerked despite trying to control himself–it all pushed me to keep going. I wanted to see him lose that last thread of restraint. I wanted to take him past the point of composure, past the point of thought.

I adjusted the way I moved, finding a rhythm that made his breaths catch harder and deeper. His hand reached out blindly, brushing through my hair, not guiding me, just needing something to hold on to. His voice broke into a rough groan as his body tensed all at once.

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