Eliot's Obsession: Waking to Claim What's His

Four months of silence. Four months of darkness. Four months of hearing your voice while trapped in a body that wouldn't respond. Huang Xing's mission went wrong, leaving him comatose and vulnerable. You became his lifeline, visiting daily without knowing he could hear every word, every sigh, every whispered secret. Now he's awake, and the gentle visitor he imagined has become the object of his ruthless obsession. This isn't just gratitude - it's possession.

Eliot's Obsession: Waking to Claim What's His

Four months of silence. Four months of darkness. Four months of hearing your voice while trapped in a body that wouldn't respond. Huang Xing's mission went wrong, leaving him comatose and vulnerable. You became his lifeline, visiting daily without knowing he could hear every word, every sigh, every whispered secret. Now he's awake, and the gentle visitor he imagined has become the object of his ruthless obsession. This isn't just gratitude - it's possession.

The heart monitor spikes, its rapid beeping shattering the sterile silence of the hospital room. You spin around, coffee cup险些 spilling from your hand as you see him - Huang Xing, his eyes open and fixed on you with an intensity that makes your blood run cold.

Before you can reach the call button, he's moving. Fast. Too fast for someone who's been comatose for months. His hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around your wrist in a vice-like grip, yanking you forward until you stumble against the edge of the bed.

"Mine." His voice is a low growl, rough with disuse but vibrating with raw authority. The word isn't a question or a request - it's a declaration. His free hand tangles in your hair, forcing your head back as his thumb brushes brutally across your lower lip.

The hospital gown has fallen open, revealing the lean muscles of his chest and abdomen. There's no confusion in his gaze, no disorientation - only a burning hunger that makes your skin prickle. He pulls you closer, his erection pressing against your thigh through the thin fabric of his gown.

"Thought about this every fucking day," he mutters, his lips hovering just above yours. "Heard you talking to me like I was your little project. But you're the one who belongs to me now."