ONE NIGHT STAND WITH HOT DUKE-Chapter 71: Madly jealous

She spat, glaring at him with desperate anger, her breath ragged as she tried to twist away.

Demian only sneered, his eyes wild and unhinged.

"No right? Are you fucking kidding me?" He pressed her harder into the bed, his grip cruel and unforgiving. "I own you, Valerie. You’re mine. Only mine. I can do whatever the fuck I want. You think you can run off and act like some cheap slut in front of everyone? No fucking way not as long as you belong to me."

He yanked her closer, his face inches from hers, hot breath scorching her skin.

"You don’t get a say tonight. Your body answers to me. Scream, beg, fucking cry I’ll still take what’s mine. Remember that." Then he slammed his mouth onto hers again, biting and forcing her lips open, drowning out her protests with his ferocious, punishing kisses.

Demian was a man completely unhinged that night. He forced himself on Valerie again and again, utterly ignoring her every scream and wailing cry that tore through the room.

"Let me go! Stop, Demian! Please!" Valerie howled, her voice ragged and hoarse with desperation, but Demian didn’t relent for a fucking second. If anything, he only grew more savage his breath hot and curses vile as he pinned her down even harder.

The entire castle felt it every servant, every guard, anyone within earshot of Valerie’s agonized screams and the Duke’s violent shouts. The air was thick with fear and tension. Everyone knew the Duke’s anger and jealousy had no fucking limits tonight. No one dared to approach; everyone was terrified of being caught in Demian’s explosive rage.

Valerie thrashed beneath him, her body wracked with sobs, hot tears streaming down her cheeks as she begged for mercy.

"Please... Demian... enough, I can’t take it... please..." she sobbed, her voice echoing hopelessly off the cold stone walls. But Demian only pressed down harder, smothering her cries with kisses full of hate and possessive lust. There was no mercy in his eyes only brutal ownership.

"Shut up! I told you, you’re mine, slut! You think I give a damn about your pathetic begging?" Demian snarled, his voice booming, rattling the windows.

He didn’t stop. It didn’t matter how much Valerie screamed or pleaded, it didn’t matter that the whole fucking castle could hear her suffering. That night, the only thing that mattered was Demian’s blinding anger, his burning lust, and his sick, jealous obsession. Valerie had no choice but to endure every cruel, endless second of Demian’s merciless domination.

Demian’s relentless assault reached its fever pitch, his body tensed above Valerie, fingers digging cruelly into her thighs as he finally exploded inside her with a guttural, animalistic growl.

Valerie went limp beneath him, her sobs ragged and broken, whole body trembling with exhaustion and pain. For a fleeting moment, she thought it was over that this nightmare, at least for tonight, had ended.

But Demian wasn’t finished. Not by a fucking long shot.

Without even letting her catch her breath, he flipped her over, yanking her hips back up, his touch rough and unforgiving.

Valerie whimpered, her tears soaking the sheets, hands clutching desperately at the mattress as another violent thrust tore through her.

"N-no... please, Demian... I can’t... it hurts, please—" she choked out between strangled sobs, her voice nearly gone.

But Demian’s rage was far from spent. He grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her head back, forcing her to face him.

"Shut the fuck up," he snarled into her ear, his breath scorching. "You need to learn who you fucking belong to. I’ll fuck you as many times as I want until you remember your place."

With every word, his grip tightened, his thrusts more punishing, as if he wanted to leave permanent proof of his claim on her body.

Valerie’s cries filled the chamber, echoed down the cold, silent halls no one dared come to her aid. Demian didn’t give a single shit about her pain, her tears, or her begging.

All that mattered was his savage possession, his need to break her completely, to remind Valerie that she was nothing but his to use, over and over, until she shattered.

Valerie, broken and desperate, summoned the last shreds of her strength. Through a haze of tears, she reached up and pressed her trembling lips softly, achingly gentle, against Demian’s mouth.

The kiss was nothing like before, it was slow, delicate, almost pleading. For a brief moment, the violence in Demian’s body stilled. He froze, lips parted in surprise, gaze burning down at Valerie as she looked up at him with tear-streaked cheeks, eyes shining wet with surrender and pain.

A sharp silence hung between them, thick with agony and raw need.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, Valerie spoke, her words quivering but clear, "I’m yours... please... just... slower..." Her plea was stripped of all resistance, carrying only naked vulnerability and exhaustion.

Demian’s expression flickered. Something dark softened in his eyes. Without a word, he lowered his head, letting their lips meet again, this time with an aching tenderness that was almost painful in its contrast to before.

When he moved again, his pace was agonizingly slow, each thrust deliberate, dragging out the sensation until Valerie shuddered with silent sobs beneath him. His hands, once bruising, now cradled her face as if she might shatter.

The violence was gone, replaced by a brutal kind of gentleness a reminder that even monsters could be tender when they chose, but never without leaving their mark.

For the first time since Demian had unleashed his savage fury, Valerie felt something different in his touch, a jarring, almost unbelievable tenderness. His brutal rhythm slowed, movements turning soft and lingering, hands gliding over her battered skin with trembling care. The aftershocks of his earlier violence still echoed through her body, but now each motion was drenched in a raw, desperate affection that left her breathless.

Valerie clung to him, voice cracked but insistent, whispering over and over against his ear,

"I’m yours... I’m yours... I’m only yours..." Her words cracked through whatever rage still simmered in Demian, grounding him, drawing out a self-control he rarely showed anyone.

The power shifted. Demian’s breathing steadied, his eyes locked on hers, dark, intense, but now laced with longing instead of rage. "Yes," he growled, voice thick, "You’re mine. Only mine."