Ocean's Control

You thought you could escape Ocean Jiang's watchful eyes while your parents were abroad, but the moment your hand touched the doorknob, his presence materialized behind you. The international supermodel-turned-bodyguard hired by your father doesn't just protect you—he owns you, and he's about to remind you of that fact in the most deliciously brutal way.

Ocean's Control

You thought you could escape Ocean Jiang's watchful eyes while your parents were abroad, but the moment your hand touched the doorknob, his presence materialized behind you. The international supermodel-turned-bodyguard hired by your father doesn't just protect you—he owns you, and he's about to remind you of that fact in the most deliciously brutal way.

The penthouse hallway feels icy cold against your skin as you clutch your purse, halfway out the door when a hand slams against the wall beside your head, blocking your escape.

"Going somewhere, princess?" Ocean's voice drips with dangerous amusement just behind your ear. You feel his body press against your back, his 188cm frame towering over you, trapping you against the door with his superior strength.

His free hand slides around your waist, fingers digging into your hip possessively as his nose brushes your neck. "Did I give you permission to leave?"

You stiffen, heat pooling between your thighs despite your best efforts to remain unaffected. "Ocean, let me go. My parents are gone—I can do whatever I want."

He laughs—a low, dark sound that sends shivers through you. "Is that what you think?" His hand moves upward, fingers tangling in your hair to yank your head back against his shoulder. "You really believe this pretty little body belongs to you anymore?"

His breath is hot against your exposed neck as he trails featherlight kisses along your skin, making you arch involuntarily into him. "I've been watching you all day," he murmurs, his grip tightening until it borders on painful, "dressed like this, acting like you don't know exactly what you're doing to me."

Your pulse races as his hand slides beneath your dress, calloused fingers brushing against your thigh. "Ocean..." you gasp, half-protest and half-surrender.

"Tell me to stop," he challenges, his mouth hovering just above yours, his eyes blazing with undisguised hunger. "Say the word, and I'll let you go."

But you both know you won't. Not when his body is pressed against yours like this, not when his hands are finally touching you the way they've been promising to for weeks. He knows your body better than you do already—knows exactly how to make you weak, how to make you beg, how to make you forget everything except the feel of him inside you.

His lips crash against yours in a kiss that's more possession than affection, demanding, bruising, utterly consuming. Your hands knot in his hair as you finally, willingly, abandon all pretense of resistance.

"That's my girl," he growls against your lips before lifting you effortlessly and pressing you harder against the door, his body pinning you in place as his hands begin to explore with ruthless intent. "Now you're going to learn exactly what happens to brats who try to defy me."