Chapter 133: Augustine’s possessiveness

Words : 1153 Updated : Sep 21st, 2025

Chapter 133: Augustine’s possessiveness Anne didn’t argue with him this time. She could see it now—his anger came from fear. "I’m sorry too... for making you worry. Next time, if something feels off, I’ll call you first." That small promise loosened the tension in Augustine’s shoulders. He exhaled. Then a faint smile broke through, and he reached over, brushing his fingers softly against her cheek. "You have no idea how scared I was when I heard something happened to you," he murmured. "I wanted to drop everything and just fly to you." What he didn’t say was how he had run red lights, ignored every traffic rule in the book, just to get there faster. Anne blinked, touched by his words. But then her expression shifted, suspicion creeping into her eyes. "Wait... how did you know I was at the hotel? Who told you?" She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "Are you... keeping tabs on me?" Augustine froze. A cold prickle ran down the back of his neck. Damn. He hadn’t meant to say that much. He scrambled to recover. "I—I-uh," he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I went to the hospital first, but you weren’t there. One of the nurses mentioned Lorie had picked you up, and she had heard her say something about the Grand Hotel." He rushed to finish the story before she could question more. "I headed there, and as luck would have it, I ran into Patricia in the lobby. She told me you were upstairs... with a man." Anne relaxed, her doubt slipping away. ’So that’s how he knew,’ she thought, her suspicions settling as quickly as they had risen. His hand reached for hers. "I thought I lost you," he said, his voice low, strained, almost shaking. "I walked into that room and for a second—" He sighed. "I thought it was you in that bed." He shook his head, jaw clenched. "I was ready to tear the world apart. I wanted to kill that man right there." She cupped his face, her thumbs brushing over the tension in his jaw. "You didn’t lose me. I’m still yours." That was all it took. He pulled her into him, crashing their lips together in a kiss that was less gentle and more desperate. His hands gripped her waist tightly, almost like he was afraid she’d vanish if he let go. The kiss deepened, fierce and urgent, full of all the things he couldn’t say. "Augustine..." she whispered against his mouth. "I can’t—" He shook his head, forehead resting against hers. "I can’t stand the thought of anyone else touching you. Even thinking about it makes me insane." His hands roamed her body with desperation, pulling her closer. Anne held her breath as Augustine gripped her tightly. The tension in his body was palpable, like a storm barely contained, his eyes burned with something feral. His hand slid up her spine, firm and commanding, then fisted in her hair, tugging her head back just enough so her eyes met his. "You drive me crazy, Anne. I can’t breathe when you’re not with me." She didn’t flinch. She held his gaze, matching his intensity with her own. "I’m not going anywhere," she whispered. "That’s not enough," he growled, lips brushing her jaw. "I need more. I need to feel it. Claim it." And then he kissed her again—deeper, rougher. There was no hesitation, no space left between them. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a warning. A promise. His hand moved down, his fingers tracing patterns on her thigh. Anne’s body tingled as she felt his fingers moving toward her inner thigh, reaching the waistband of her underwear. Anticipation built up inside her, making her squirm in need. Then she felt his hand slipping inside her underwear, trailing over her vulva. "That’s mine. You’re mine." He trailed kisses along her collarbone, his teeth grazing her skin as he whispered darkly, "No one gets to touch you. No one gets to see you like this. Only me." Anne moaned softly, her body melting into his touch. He pinched her chin, forcing her to look at him. His thumb brushed her lower lip, his eyes locked on hers—burning, wild, and completely raw. "I’ll destroy anyone who tries to take you from me." She coiled her arms around his neck and kissed him as if to calm the fire. "You have me," she whispered. "I am all yours." Something shifted in his expression. The fury softened—just slightly—giving way to something deeper. Something wounded. "I thought I was too late," he said hoarsely. "When I saw you weren’t in that bed... I almost collapsed from relief. And then all I could think about was claiming you right then and there. Letting you feel that you’re mine, tell the world that you belong to me." Anne kissed the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then his neck. And he let go. Whatever control he still had was shattered. In a swift motion, he led her to the back seat. The clothes were removed in a flurry. He gripped her hips and pulled her up on his lap, holding her tight against him. "Can you feet it?" He ground his erection on her core. And then, with a swift motion, he entered her, rocking her in slow, deliberate movements. "Say it," he demanded hoarsely. "Say you belong to me." "I belong to you," she whispered. He groaned deep in his chest, like the words healed a wound inside him. Then he pressed a kiss to her neck as he increased the pace. Anne wasn’t just someone he loved. She was his obsession, his weakness, his salvation. And he wasn’t letting her go. Ever. The car’s interior was humid now, their breath fogging up the windows. He moved with dominance. His touch was commanding but laced with a tenderness that revealed everything he wasn’t saying. That fear he had nearly lost her, the desperation he had buried deep—now it all poured out through his hands, his grip, the way he held her like she was both fragile and sacred. Anne responded to him with equal hunger. She arched into him, gasped against his skin, matching his urgency with her own. She wasn’t afraid of the fire in his eyes. She embraced it because she knew what it meant. She felt the way his breath hitched every time she moaned his name, the way his grip tightened when she whispered she was his. He cupped her breasts and growled, "I want to mark every part of you. I want to burn this moment into you." "You already have," Anne whispered, her voice trembling from the overwhelming way he made her feel. That sent a jolt through him. He moved faster, harder, the tension between them peaking. The car creaked beneath them. And then – it hit, their bodies lost in each other.

Chapter 133: Augustine’s possessiveness

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