YOU FINALLY CHOSE TO SUBMIT

Ozan's grip tightened as he loomed over Leyla, his dark eyes burning with something dangerous—something possessive. For the first time, she wasn't running, wasn't resisting. That alone sent a thrill down his spine.

His fingers trailed along her jaw before he tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. His smirk was slow, calculating. "You finally chose to submit, huh?" His voice was deep, teasing, but there was a dangerous edge beneath it.

Leyla didn't reply. She couldn't. The weight of his presence, the intensity in his gaze—it was suffocating.

Ozan leaned in, his lips ghosting over her skin, just to watch her reaction. When she didn't pull away, his smirk deepened. His tongue flicked out, tracing the sharp line of her jaw, slow and deliberate. "You taste just as addictive as I imagined…" he murmured.

Leyla's breath hitched, but she didn't move. She couldn't afford to show any hesitation. This was about survival.

His hands slid to her waist, fingers digging in just enough to remind her who was in control. Then, without warning, his lips found her neck, warm and demanding. He sucked at the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing lightly before he bit down, leaving his mark.

She shuddered beneath him, her fingers curling into the sheets, but she remained silent. Ozan chuckled against her skin. "So obedient now… but I wonder, is it because you want this? Or because you have no other choice?"

Leyla's heartbeat pounded in her ears, but she refused to answer.

Ozan pulled back just enough to look at her, brushing his thumb against the mark he'd left. "Either way."

Leyla's breath hitched as Ozan's fingers ghosted over her wrist, his grip tightening just enough to remind her that she was trapped beneath him. His smirk deepened when he saw her shut her eyes, as if surrendering—though he knew better. Leyla never surrendered. She was just calculating, waiting for an opening.

"Finally," Ozan murmured, his voice laced with amusement and something darker. "You submit so easily when it's on your terms, hm?"

His lips hovered near her jaw before trailing down, pressing possessive kisses along the line of her neck. He felt her tense beneath him. That only made him hungrier. He wanted to carve his presence into her, make her remember who held control now. His teeth grazed her skin, then sank in—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark that wouldn't fade easily.

Leyla inhaled sharply, her fists clenching against the sheets. Ozan smirked against her skin. "Good girl," he muttered, his voice husky. "You taste just as I imagined."

But just as he was about to go further, something shifted in her expression—a flicker of defiance behind those closed eyelids. And Ozan knew one thing: no matter how much she played along, Leyla was never truly tamed.

Ozan's fingers curled tighter around Leyla's wrists, pinning them against the soft sheets of her bed. His breath was uneven, hovering dangerously close to her lips, his dark eyes locked onto hers with a gaze that held something deeper than mere desire—something possessive, something unyielding.

Leyla's chest rose and fell rapidly, her mind screaming at her to push him away, but she knew she had no choice. She had agreed to submit, and now, she had to endure whatever came next.

Ozan smirked as he traced his fingers along her jawline, tilting her face up as if memorizing every inch of her. His lips ghosted over her skin, teasing, before he finally pressed a lingering kiss against her jaw. The heat of his touch sent shivers down Leyla's spine, but she clenched her fists, refusing to react.

"You're quiet," he murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck. "I thought you'd fight back."

Leyla shut her eyes tightly, her breath hitching when she felt his teeth graze her pulse point. A small bite—just enough to leave a mark. He was claiming her, and he wanted her to know it.

Ozan's hand traveled lower, pressing against her waist, pulling her closer as he trailed kisses down the curve of her neck. "You taste just as sweet as I imagined," he whispered against her skin, his voice laced with something dangerously addictive.

Leyla swallowed hard. She had to remind herself that this was a game—a game where she couldn't afford to lose control. She had to play her part, had to let him believe he had won. But deep inside, she knew the real battle had only just begun.

Ozan kissed her lips roughly causing her to open her yes. Her eyes widen as he pushed his tongue in her mouth tasting every inch of her. His hand travelled lower beneath her dress. Leyla's breath hitched. Ozan didn't stop kissing her. His hand grabbing her inner thigh. Leyla pushed him away.

"Ozan" she said scooting away. She seemed innocent and scared?

Ozan tilted his head, watching her with something unreadable in his dark eyes. Amusement? Possessiveness? Annoyance? Maybe all of them at once.

"Innocent little act again?" He leaned forward, caging her against the headboard, his hand pressing into the mattress beside her. "You really think I'll fall for that?"

Leyla swallowed, but she kept her face composed. She had no intention of showing weakness. Not now.

"I just want my ring back," she said, voice calm despite the storm raging inside her. "That's all."

Ozan smirked. "Oh, you'll get it. But I told you—there's a price."

He brought his hand up, trailing his fingers along her wrist, feeling the way her pulse quickened. She didn't pull away this time. She couldn't.

"Submit," he murmured, voice dropping lower. "Or take the other option. A kiss."

Leyla clenched her jaw. He was playing with her. He knew exactly what he was doing—pushing her, testing her limits, making sure she had nowhere to escape.

She had to choose.

And Ozan was watching, waiting, knowing no matter what she picked—he would win.

Leyla didn't speak. Didn't argue. Didn't hesitate.

She moved.

Before Ozan could smirk, before he could taunt her again, her fingers curled into the front of his shirt, pulling him forward. Their lips met, the contact sudden, unexpected—even for him.

Ozan froze.

For the first time, she was the one closing the distance. The one taking control.

His mind went blank for half a second before the realization hit him—Leyla was kissing him. Not out of force. Not out of struggle. But because she chose to.

The grip on her wrist loosened, replaced by something else. Something deeper. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer as he took over, molding the kiss into something neither of them could walk away from.

Leyla didn't pull back. She didn't break first. Because she knew—if she did, she'd lose.

And she wasn't willing to lose to Ozan.