ᕙ༼Jay Jay's༽ᕗPOV
The night is a marathon of shadows. I lie there, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird, while the silence of the room mocks me. Every time I close my eyes, I see the "Read" receipt on those 106 messages—a digital scar that won't heal.
I am vibrating with a bone-deep exhaustion, yet my mind is a frantic projector, replaying every word I sent, wondering which one finally turned his heart to stone.
The Heavy ApproachWalking into the office feels like wading through deep water. Every step toward the boardroom is a battle against the physical weight in my chest. My skin feels too thin, my nerves exposed.
I'm not just walking into a meeting; I'm walking into a firing squad of cold glances and professional distance. The air doesn't just feel still; it feels hostile, as if the very walls know I'm falling apart.The Boardroom ChillThe atmosphere is clinical, stripped of every ounce of the warmth we used to share.
The hum of the air conditioner sounds like a low-frequency scream. I sit across from him, and the table feels miles wide. Everyone else is discussing numbers and growth, but all I can hear is the deafening roar of what he isn't saying.
The fluorescent lights are too bright, exposing the dark circles under my eyes that I tried so hard to hide with makeup.The Professional MaskWhen our eyes finally meet, I look for a flicker—a momentary glitch in his CEO persona—but there is nothing. It's like looking into a mirror that doesn't reflect me back. His gaze is a polished shield, flat and impenetrable.
My heart drops into my stomach, a cold, leaden ball. I am a ghost in this room; to the company, I am an asset, but to the man I love, I've become an inconvenience to be managed.
The Final RejectionWhen I finally catch him, my voice trembling with the weight of four days of agony, he doesn't even let me finish. "Company first." Those two words are a guillotine.
He isn't just prioritizing work; he is using the hierarchy of the Mariano Company to bury us. He stands there, tall and unyielding, choosing spreadsheets over my shattered spirit. I am standing right in front of him, dying for a single human word, and he is looking at his watch.
°♡˖꒰Author's꒱˖♡° POV
The boardroom doors swung open, but it wasn't a business associate who walked in. It was a ghost from the past.
"Everyone," Jay's father announced, his voice booming with rare genuine warmth, "I've invited a special guest to join our strategy session. Wilson Wilder."
The air left Keifer's lungs. Jay, who had been sitting like a ghost of herself—shattered by his "Company first" rejection moments ago—suddenly bolted upright. Her eyes, once dull with agony, ignited.
"Wison?" she whispered.Wilson didn't wait. He crossed the room in three long strides, a grin breaking across his face.
"In the flesh, Jay-Jay."She didn't hesitate. She threw herself into his arms, hugging him so tightly it looked like she was trying to merge into him.
Keifer's jaw locked. He felt the first prickle of a dark, suffocating heat rising up his neck.
"I missed you so much," Jay murmured into Wilson's chest. "I thought you were still in London."
"And miss your big debut?" Wilson pulled back just enough to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. His voice dropped to a low, intimate rumble. "Not a chance. You look beautiful, though a little pale. Are you eating? Or do I need to start raiding your fridge again?"
She laughed—a sound Keifer hadn't heard in weeks. It felt like a serrated blade across his skin."I'm fine now that you're here," she teased.
"Good," Wilson smiled, squeezing her shoulders. "Can't have my Dainty Doll falling apart on me, can I?"
MyDainty Doll.
The words hit Keifer like a physical blow.
My.
The possessive pronoun felt like a claim, a flag planted on territory Keifer had convinced himself he didn't want, yet couldn't stand to lose.
He stared at Wilson's hands on her, his mind spiraling into a cold, clinical rage. He wanted to reach across the table and tear those hands away. He wanted to remind Wilson that Jay belonged to the Mariano hierarchy—to him.
As the meeting commenced, Jay tried to settle back into her seat, but her excitement made her clumsy. Her heel caught the leg of the heavy mahogany chair. She gasped, her body tilting dangerously toward the floor.
Before Keifer could even twitch, Wilson was there.He caught her mid-air, his arm sliding firmly around her waist to steady her. The movement was fluid and protective, drawing her close as he helped her regain her balance. Wilson kept his arm there for a moment, ensuring she was safely back on her feet.
"Careful, Jay-Jay. I've got you," Wilson said softly.Across the table, Keifer went terrifyingly still. The sight of Wilson's hands on her triggered a cold, suffocating wave of possessiveness.
To Keifer, every second Wilson spent near her was an affront, a challenge to the control he exerted over his world. His pulse thrummed with a sharp, focused anger that blocked out the rest of the room.
CRACK.
The custom-weighted fountain pen in Keifer's hand snapped cleanly in two. Black ink bled across his palm, staining his skin, but he didn't even flinch at the mess or the sharp edges of the broken casing.
He didn't look at the ruined pen. His gaze remained fixed on Jay, his eyes dark with an intense, unyielding jealousy. The realization that someone else could provide the comfort he had withheld made the air in the room feel thin and volatile.The meeting continued, but Keifer was no longer listening to business strategies. His entire being was centered on the woman across from him and the man who dared to call her his own.
The atmosphere in the boardroom was suffocating. Jay's father checked his watch, his expression turning grave."I have an emergency board meeting across town," her father said, glancing worriedly at Jay. "With the recent threats against the family, Jay-Jay can't be left alone. It's too big a risk on her life." He turned toward Wilson with a grateful smile. "Wilson, son, would you mind taking her back to the estate? I trust you more than anyone."Wilson grinned, his arm shifting instinctively toward Jay.
"You don't even have to ask. I'll keep her safe."The words acted like a match dropped in a pool of gasoline.
"That won't be necessary."
Keifer's voice was like ice cutting through glass. He stood up, the ink from the broken pen still staining his hand like a dark omen. He didn't look at Jay's father; his eyes were locked on Wilson's hand, which was still hovering far too close to Jay's waist."The Mariano Company takes care of its own," Keifer said, his tone low and dangerously smooth. "The security protocols are my responsibility. I will take her home myself. Safely."
Jay looked at him, her eyes wide with shock. Just an hour ago, he had treated her like a nuisance, a distraction from his spreadsheets. Now, he was stepping forward with a territorial intensity that felt almost predatory.
"Keifer, you're busy," Jay's father started, but Keifer didn't let him finish.
"I said, I'm taking her." He moved around the table, his presence looming and cold. He stepped directly between Jay and Wilson, physically breaking their line of sight and forcing Wilson to step back.
Deep inside, Keifer was burning. The jealousy wasn't a spark; it was a silent, psychopathic roar. Every time he looked at Wilson, he saw the man who had touched what belonged to him.
He felt a sick, twisted need to reclaim her, to lock her away where no "childhood best friend" could ever call her a "doll" again.
He grabbed Jay's wrist—not roughly, but with an iron grip that brooked no argument."Let's go," he muttered, his voice vibrating with suppressed rage. As he led her out, he didn't look back at Wilson, but his shoulders were rigid, his heart hammering against his ribs in a rhythm of pure, unadulterated possessiveness.
Keifer didn't say a word as he hauled her toward his sleek, black sedan. His grip on her wrist was like a shackle—firm, hot, and unyielding. He shoved the passenger door open and practically forced her into the leather seat.
"Keifer, you're hurting me," Jay whispered, rubbing her reddened skin as he slammed the door shut.He ignored her. He rounded the car, climbed into the driver's seat, and floored it. The engine roared, reflecting the violent storm brewing behind his dark eyes.
"This isn't the way to my house," Jay realized, her voice rising with panic as the city lights blurred past at a dangerous speed.
"Keifer? Where are we going? My father told you to take me home!"He didn't blink. He didn't even look at her. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his jaw so tight it looked like it might shatter.
Every time she asked a question, he just pressed his foot harder on the gas. The silence in the car was heavy with his suffocating, psychopathic jealousy. In his mind, he was still seeing Wilson's hand on her waist, hearing that voice call her his doll.
He wasn't taking her to her father. He wasn't letting her out of his sight.He pulled up to the private entrance of his luxury hotel. Before Jay could even process where they were, he was at her door, dragging her out. He didn't use the lobby; he led her straight to the private elevator, his grip on her wrist tightening every time she tried to pull away.
"Keifer, stop it! You're acting crazy!" she cried out as the elevator dings.He pulled her down the hallway of the penthouse suite.
ᕙ༼Jay Jay's༽ᕗPOV
The moment they stepped inside his room, he threw the door shut with a deafening bang and locked it. He finally turned to her, his face a mask of cold, terrifying possessiveness. The "Company first" man was gone; in his place stood a man driven purely by the need to reclaim what he had almost lost.
Keifer's jaw remained tight, his eyes dark with a cold, simmering resentment that made my skin prickle. He didn't just want me; he wanted to reclaim every part of me that Wilson had dared to touch.
"You let him put his hands on what is mine," he hissed, his voice a dangerous, low vibration that sent a shiver down my spine.
He didn't bother with buttons or zippers; the sound of fabric snapping filled the room as he moved with a frantic, desperate hunger. The bed hit my back before I could draw a breath, and then he was there—his mouth crashing against mine not with a kiss, but with a claim that tasted of pure, unadulterated rage.
Before I could even find my voice to protest, he slid a single finger deep inside my core. He didn't ease into it; he began moving it with a fast, ruthless rhythm that was fueled entirely by his jealousy.
The sudden, frantic friction caught me off guard, forcing a sharp, broken moan from my throat."Keif... ah!... please, it's too fast," I sobbed, my hips bucking instinctively against his hand as the sensation turned into a blurring, electric heat.
"I don't want it to be slow," he growled, leaning down so his hot breath fanned over my skin. "I want you to feel how much you belong to me. I want his memory burned out of you by the sheer force of how I take you."
He didn't slow down. If anything, his finger moved even faster, a territorial pace that demanded my total, frantic focus. I thrashed against the sheets, my breath coming in jagged, shallow hitches as the world outside his touch simply ceased to exist. Every fast, deep stroke was a physical declaration of his ownership, a beast-like demand that I remember exactly who I belonged to.
"Keifer... I'm yours... only yours!" I cried out, my voice breaking as the pressure built into a tidal wave I couldn't escape.
Keifer's eyes turned a shade of black that looked like a void, his beast-like jealousy finally taking total control. He didn't care about my protests; he only cared about the fact that Wilson's shadow was still lingering in his mind.
"Still too much?" he rasped, a dark, dangerous smirk tugging at his lips. "Good. I want you to feel every bit of me."Without a second of warning, he slid a second finger deep into my core.
"Fuck...Ahh!"
The sudden, blunt fullness made me gasp, my head snapping back against the mattress. He began to move them in a fast, scissoring, ruthless rhythm that bypassed all my defenses. The friction was incredible—a blurring, electric heat that made my skin flush a deep, frantic red.
"Keif—! Ah, God, Keifer...like that!" I screamed, my voice a wrecked, messy sob as I called his name over and over. I was a shaking, gasping mess under him, my hips stuttering in a desperate attempt to keep up with the territorial speed of his hand.
"That's it," he growled, leaning down so his lips were mere inches from mine, his breath hot and ragged. "Scream my name. Make sure it's the only thing that fits in your head. I want you so overwhelmed by me that you can't even think about that man hand without shaking."
He didn't slow down; if anything, his fingers moved faster, his thumb bearing down on my peak with a heavy, crushing pressure. I was blinded by the sensation, my vision fracturing into sparks as I spiraled toward an edge I couldn't escape. My moans were no longer words—just raw, rhythmic sounds of a woman being completely reclaimed by a man who refused to share.
"I'm yours... Keif, please! I'm yours!" I cried out, my body coiling like a spring, ready to snap under the weight of his possessive love.
The friction of his fingers was a blurring, electric torture that had me arched so high my shoulders were the only things touching the mattress.
I was right there—suspended over the deepest cliff of the night—my core pulsing frantically around his hand as I reached my peak.
"Keifer... now! Please... I want you... all of you!" I sobbed, the words breaking apart as the first tremors of my release began to rack my body.
He didn't wait. In one fluid, predatory motion, he withdrew his fingers and surged forward, replacing the focused ache with the heavy, blunt reality of his full weight.
He entered me in one smooth, powerful drive that hit the very back of my core just as the climax shattered through me.A high, wrecked scream tore from my throat as I came undone for the fifth time, my vision whiting out.
"Ohh!Ahh!....."
The sensation of him filling that space while I was still shaking was too much—it was heaven and a territorial claim all at once.
"You've got me," he growled, his voice a jagged, animalistic rasp against my neck. He didn't let the rhythm slow, his hips driving into mine with a relentless, heavy force that kept the waves of my release crashing over me again and again.
"I'm not leaving. I'm staying right here until you're marked by every inch of me."His jealousy had transformed into a raw, driving hunger.
He wasn't just moving; he was anchoring himself inside me, his chest slamming against mine with every deep, possessive thrust. My moans were a messy, incoherent chant of his name, my fingers digging into his back as he pushed me further than I thought possible.
"Kei–keifer...Ahh".
My head thrashed against the pillow as Keif's rhythm shifted from steady to savage. I was already raw, my body buzzing with the aftershocks of so many peaks, but he didn't care.
Every time he drove forward, he hit that deep, aching spot with a precision that made my breath hitch and then shatter into a million pieces.
"Keifer... Keif!" I sobbed, the sound of his name vibrating in my throat. It was the only word I had left.
I reached out, my fingers searching for the corded muscles of his arms, needing something to hold onto as the world began to dissolve into pure, white heat.
His name was a plea, a prayer, and a surrender all at once. Every time I cried it out, I felt his grip on my waist tighten, his fingers digging into my skin as if he were trying to physically mark the fact that I was his. The jealousy that had been driving him all night felt like a living thing between us, pushing him to hit harder, deeper, and more relentlessly.
"Again," he rasped, his chest slamming against mine. "Say it again."
"Keif... ah!... please... Keifer!" My moans were a messy, broken rhythm that matched the frantic pace of his hips.
I couldn't think about Wilson, or my father, or the world outside this room. There was only the weight of him, the searing friction of his body against mine, and the way his name felt like the only truth I'd ever known.
I felt that familiar, terrifying tension coiling in my gut again, tighter and more electric than before. He wasn't letting me breathe; he was dragging me back to the edge, his movements rough and possessive, ensuring that the only thing I felt—the only thing I could feel—was him.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯aftet an hour⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The room felt like it was vibrating with the sheer force of his possession. My body was a raw nerve, screaming with a mix of pleasure and exhaustion.
It had been over an hour and a half of this relentless, jealous heat, and I was physically and mentally at my limit.
My muscles were trembling so hard I could barely keep my legs hooked around him, but Keifer didn't care about the clock. He didn't care about the time. He only cared about the territory.
"Keif... please... it's been so long... I can't take anymore," I sobbed, my voice barely a whisper as I tried to push feebly against his chest.He didn't listen.
Instead, he adjusted his grip, pulling my hips even higher to change the angle. He found that deep O-spot again, hitting it with a heavy, blunt force that made my entire world turn into white static.
Every time he struck it, a fresh, sharp jolt of electricity shot through my spine, forcing a wrecked, rhythmic moan from my throat that I couldn't suppress.
"You'll take as much as I give you," he rasped, his eyes dark and fixed on mine with a terrifying intensity. "I don't care how long it takes. I'm going to make sure that when you close your eyes tonight, the only thing you feel, the only thing you taste, and the only thing you hear is me."
He hit the spot again—harder this time—and my head thrashed against the pillow, my mouth falling open in a silent scream in pleasure.
I was drowning in him. Every rough thrust was a reminder that he loved me to the point of madness, and tonight, that love was a beautiful, punishing weight.
"Keifer... ah!... please... Keif!... don't stop then" I chanted his name, my fingers digging into his shoulders, leaving red marks that matched the ones he was leaving on me.
I was completely spent, hallowed out by his need, yet he kept driving me toward that third, impossible peak, refusing to let the fire die until he was satisfied that he had erased every other man from my mind.
The room felt like it was vibrating with the sheer force of his possession. My body was a raw nerve, screaming with a mix of pleasure and exhaustion.
The air in the room was stifling, saturated with the scent of salt and the heavy, electric charge of Keifer's unchecked jealousy. I was a fractured mess beneath him, my voice nothing but a raw, broken echo of his name.
As he drove into me one last, punishing time, he let out a low, animalistic growl that vibrated through my chest.
I felt it then—the sudden, searing warmth of his release flooding deep inside my core, right against the oversensitized O-spot he had been hammering for nearly two hours.
The heat was staggering, a thick, pulsing brand that made my vision whiten. But because he was so far gone, so lost in his need to reclaim me from Wilson's memory, it happened again.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
I felt that staggering heat a second and third time, his body refusing to empty itself of the possessive fire he felt for me.
Each time he flooded my core, the warmth pooled deep against my most sensitive nerves, making me sob with the sheer, overwhelming fullness of him. I thought that would be the end. I thought he would finally let me breathe.
"Keif..Ah!... please...let me....rest... if you're done" I sobbed, my head falling back, my body limp and trembling from the third peak that had just finished tearing through me.
But Keifer didn't pull away. His eyes, dark and glazed with a lingering, possessive madness, stayed locked on mine. Instead of softening, he gripped my hips even tighter, his knuckles white.
To my horror and disbelief, he didn't stop. Even with the evidence of his multiple releases still warm and heavy inside me, he began to move again—not with the slow afterglow of a man satisfied, but with a renewed, rough intensity that ignored every one of my pleas.
"I told you, princess," he rasped, his voice a jagged blade. "I'm not leaving. I'm going to stay until there isn't a single part of you that doesn't feel like me."
He kept moving for another hour, his rhythm relentless and territorial. Every time I whimpered for mercy, he simply drove deeper, hitting that same internal mark until I was sobbing his name in a daze of pure overstimulation.
"Fuck...Ahhh... keifer. There Ahh!..yes there".
He was out of his mind with the need to own me, erasing every thought of the outside world with the sheer, exhausting weight of his love.By the time he finally slowed, the sun was almost hinting at the horizon, and I was completely hollowed out, carrying the heavy, warm evidence of his multiple claims deep inside me.
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Making keifer jealous .the Idea is giving by Asif_khan_7833🤭😊
There is the jealousy part .