Chapter 7: Possession
The city sprawled beneath Granit’s penthouse like a glittering circuit board, lights bleeding into the twilight. Vanja stood before the expansive glass wall, the panorama doing nothing to calm the frantic drumming in her chest. She clutched her tablet like a shield, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat radiating from her skin. Behind her, Granit moved in the open-plan kitchen, the clink of glassware unnervingly loud in the minimalist space. Leather sofas, low-slung and expensive, looked sterile. Untouched.
"Reports are loaded," she announced, her voice clipped, professional. Too professional. She didn't turn. "Fan engagement metrics post-match are strong, but the sentiment analysis on Leverkusen forums shows lingering concerns about midfield cohesion against high-press teams." She recited the data, a familiar armor against the memory of his whispered filth in the Bayern boardroom that morning. The sound you made.
Granit set down two tumblers of amber liquid. Ice clinked. He approached silently, his presence a physical weight against her back even before his hands settled on her shoulders. She stiffened.
"Later," he murmured, his thumbs digging into the tense muscles at the base of her neck. The touch was possessive, intimate, completely at odds with the sterile surroundings. His breath warmed the sensitive skin below her ear. "You’re wound tighter than a fucking drum, vranjan"
She tried to shrug him off, a jerky movement. "I’m working, Xhaka. This isn’t… Basel." The name hung there, sharp-edged. A reminder of his blindness, her invisibility.
His hands tightened, preventing her escape. He spun her around, forcing her to face him. His dark eyes scanned her face – the carefully applied makeup, the severe knot of her dark blonde hair, the defiant set of her jaw. But his gaze lingered on the pulse hammering visibly at the base of her throat. On the slight tremble in her fingers still gripping the tablet.
"Basel," he echoed, his voice low, rough. A flicker of something complex – regret, frustration, hunger – crossed his features. "You think I don’t see you now?" He took the tablet from her unresisting hand and tossed it carelessly onto the pristine leather sofa. It landed with a soft thud. "You think I don’t fucking feel you?" His hand slid down her arm, over the sleeve of her silk blouse, fingers tracing the frantic beat at her wrist. "Every time you walk into a room? Every time you try to freeze me out with that sharp tongue?"
Vanja’s breath hitched. The proximity, the intensity in his eyes, the sheer size of him blocking out the city lights… it was overwhelming. The resentment warred violently with the treacherous pull he exerted, the heat coiling low in her belly ignited by his words in the boardroom, by the phantom ache still lingering deep inside her from the media room door. She lifted her chin, green-gold eyes blazing. "What do you want, Granit? Another quick fuck against a wall? Another reminder that I’m just convenient?"
His expression hardened. "Fuck convenient." He stepped closer, eliminating the last sliver of space. His hands slid down to her waist, fingers splaying possessively over the curve of her hips beneath the tailored skirt. "I want you. Not vranjan the PR strategist. Not the ghost from Basel I was too fucking stupid to see." His gaze dropped to her lips, plump and slightly parted. "Vanja." Her name was a rasp, a command, a plea. "Stop fighting it."
He leaned in, his intention clear. Vanja reacted instinctively. Not retreating. Not yielding. Attacking. Her hands flew up, not to push him away, but to fist in the front of his dark Henley. She yanked him down with surprising strength, meeting his descending mouth not with submission, but with a fierce, claiming kiss of her own.
It wasn't gentle. It was teeth and tongues clashing, a desperate battle for dominance fueled by years of frustration, humiliation, and undeniable, burning lust. She poured every ounce of her anger, her hurt, her pent-up desire into that kiss, biting his lower lip, tasting the faint salt of his skin. Granit groaned, a deep, guttural sound of pure shock and unleashed hunger. His arms locked around her, crushing her against him, one hand tangling violently in the knot of her hair, pulling her head back to deepen the kiss, to devour her.
Vanja tore her mouth free, gasping. Her eyes were wild, pupils blown wide, her lips swollen and glistening. "You want me?" she panted, her voice thick, raw. Her hands slid down his chest, over the hard planes of muscle beneath the soft fabric, down to the waistband of his trousers. Her fingers fumbled with the buckle, her gaze locked defiantly with his burning stare. "Then take me. Right here. Right now. Prove you see me now."
She didn't wait. Her fingers found the hard ridge of his cock already straining against the confines of his trousers and briefs. She palmed him roughly through the fabric, feeling the thick, rigid length, the heat radiating from him. Granit hissed, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. "Fuck, Vanja..."
"Shut up," she breathed, her voice trembling with adrenaline and need. She shoved his trousers and briefs down over his hips in one rough motion. His cock sprang free, thick, flushed, and brutally hard, veins standing proud against the rigid shaft. Pre-cum glistened at the swollen tip. She wrapped her hand around him, her fingers barely meeting around his girth. Hot. Heavy. Velvet skin over iron. She squeezed, her thumb brushing roughly over the slick head, smearing the pre-cum.
Granit threw his head back, a ragged groan tearing from his throat. "Jesus Christ..."
Vanja dropped to her knees on the cool polished concrete floor. The city lights painted streaks of color across his thighs, her face. She didn't hesitate. Didn't tease. She leaned forward and took the swollen head of his cock into her mouth, her lips stretching wide to accommodate him. Her tongue swirled fiercely around the sensitive ridge beneath the head, tasting the salty tang of pre-cum.
Granit’s hands slammed onto her shoulders, fingers digging in. "Fuck! Vanja!" His hips bucked forward, driving more of his thick cock into her hot, wet mouth.
She took it, gagging slightly as the blunt head nudged the back of her throat. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she pushed forward, hollowing her cheeks, sucking hard. Her hand worked the base of his shaft in rhythm with her mouth, twisting, squeezing. She looked up at him, her green-gold eyes locked onto his, filled with challenge, defiance, and raw, desperate hunger. The sight of her, on her knees, taking him deep, her lips stretched obscenely around his cock, her eyes daring him… it was incendiary.
Granit tangled both hands in her hair now, gripping tight, controlling the pace. He pulled her head back slightly, then thrust forward, fucking her mouth with short, brutal strokes. "Suck it," he growled, his voice thick, ragged. "Suck my cock like you fucking mean it. Like you wanted to in Basel." The reminder was deliberate, cruel, stoking the fire.
Vanja moaned around his shaft, the vibration sending a jolt of pure electricity up his spine. She increased her suction, bobbing her head faster, taking him deeper each time, her throat working to accommodate him. Saliva dripped from her stretched lips, slicking his cock, her chin. Her free hand slid between her own legs, under her skirt, rubbing frantically at her clit through the damp silk of her panties. She was soaking wet, aching, the friction only intensifying the desperate need coiling tighter and tighter inside her.
Granit watched her hand move, saw the flush spreading down her neck, heard the muffled, desperate sounds she made around his cock. "That's it," he rasped, thrusting harder, deeper. "Rub that pretty little cunt. Get yourself ready for me." His balls tightened, the pressure building unbearably. "Fuck, you look so goddamn good like this… taking my cock… fucking yourself…"
He pulled her head back sharply, his cock slipping wetly from her mouth with a lewd pop. Her lips were red, swollen, glistening. Her eyes were dazed, unfocused with lust. Granit hauled her up roughly, spinning her around to face the vast window overlooking the city. He pressed her front against the cool glass, her cheek flattening against the smooth surface. His hands shoved her tailored skirt up around her waist, exposing her ass clad only in sheer black panties, already dark with her arousal. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and ripped them down her thighs, the delicate lace tearing easily.
Vanja gasped, the cool air hitting her wet folds. Granit’s hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh. She felt the thick, slick head of his cock nudge against her dripping entrance, parting her slick folds. He paused, grinding against her clit, making her whimper. "Say it," he demanded, his voice a harsh rasp against her ear. "Say you want it."
"I want it," Vanja gasped, pushing her hips back against him, desperate for the stretch, the fullness. "Fuck me, Granit. Please!"
He surged forward.
One brutal, powerful thrust buried him to the hilt inside her tight, wet heat. Vanja screamed, the sound muffled against the glass. The stretch was immense, burning, filling her completely, deeper than before. Her inner walls clamped down instinctively around the invading thickness. Granit roared, a sound of pure, primal satisfaction. He held himself deep for a heartbeat, buried to the root, letting her feel every inch of him stretching her impossibly wide. The wet, obscene sound of their joining echoed in the cavernous room.
He withdrew almost completely, leaving her gasping at the sudden emptiness, then slammed back in with the same brutal force. Again. And again. His pace was relentless, punishing, each powerful thrust driving her body against the unyielding glass. His hands gripped her hips, lifting her slightly with each downward plunge to meet his driving cock, maximizing the depth. The wet slap of flesh on flesh, the rhythmic thudding of her body against the window, filled the penthouse.
"Fuck, you're tight," Granit groaned, his breath hot and harsh against her neck. He bit her shoulder, a sharp sting that dissolved into liquid heat. "Squeezing my cock like a fucking fist." His thrusts became shorter, harder, deeper grinding motions, his pubic bone grinding against her clit with every savage plunge. "Come on, Vanja," he growled. "Come for me. Milk my cock like you did before."
The friction was unbearable. The relentless pounding against her deepest spot, the grinding pressure on her clit, the sheer overwhelming sensation of being filled so completely… it detonated within her. Vanja’s scream tore free as her body convulsed violently. Her inner muscles clamped down on his invading cock in frantic, fluttering spasms. Juices gushed, soaking his cock and thighs, the wet sounds intensifying.
Her climax triggered his own. Granit felt the irresistible pull, the tight suction milking him towards the edge. His rhythm faltered, became erratic, desperate. He buried himself deep and held there, grinding his hips against hers. "Vanja... FUCK!" His roar was raw, guttural, ripped from the depths of him. His cock pulsed violently inside her, thick jets of hot cum erupting deep within her pulsing channel. He shuddered violently, his arms locking around her waist, holding her crushed against him and the glass as he emptied himself, his hips jerking with each powerful spurt.
The intensity was seismic. Wave after wave of blinding release crashed over him, more powerful than anything he'd ever felt. The world tilted violently. Colors swam before his eyes – the city lights blurring into streaks. He felt Vanja trembling against him, felt her cunt still rhythmically clenching around his softening cock, milking the last drops from him. The sensation, combined with the sheer force of his climax, was too much.
His grip on her hips slackened. His vision tunneled, darkness crowding the edges. A strange buzzing filled his ears, drowning out Vanja’s ragged breathing. He tried to hold on, tried to speak, but his legs buckled. He felt himself falling backwards, away from the warmth of her body pressed against the glass.
Vanja gasped as the crushing weight against her back vanished. She turned, her legs trembling, just in time to see Granit stagger backwards, his eyes rolling back in his head. He hit the polished concrete floor with a heavy thud, limbs splayed, utterly still. His softening cock lay against his thigh, glistening with her juices and his own release.
Silence. Deafening silence, broken only by Vanja’s own harsh breathing and the frantic hammering of her heart. She stared, frozen in shock, at his prone form. "Granit?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper. Panic clawed its way up her throat. She stumbled forward, dropping to her knees beside him. "Granit!" She shook his shoulder, her fingers trembling as she pressed them against the pulse point in his neck. It was there – strong, rapid. Relief washed over her, cold and shaky. He was breathing. Just… out.
She crouched beside him, her torn panties around her thighs, her skirt bunched at her waist, her blouse askew. The city lights painted surreal patterns on his still face, on the sweat-slicked planes of his chest. Minutes crawled by, each second stretching into an eternity. She watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, the faint flutter of his eyelids.
Finally, a low groan escaped him. His eyelids fluttered open, blinking slowly, dazedly, up at the high ceiling. Confusion clouded his dark eyes before they focused on her face hovering above him, pale and stricken.
"Vanja?" His voice was thick, slurred.
"You… you fainted," she whispered, her voice trembling. Tears, hot and unexpected, welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. The adrenaline crash, the shock, the sheer overwhelming intensity of everything – Basel, the media room, the boardroom, this brutal claiming – it all crashed down on her. A sob escaped her lips.
Granit pushed himself up onto his elbows, wincing slightly. His gaze locked onto her tear-streaked face, the genuine fear and confusion in her eyes. He saw the vulnerability beneath the defiance, the raw emotion she couldn't hide. The sight pierced through the lingering haze of his climax, through the possessiveness, straight to something deeper, more terrifying.
He reached up, his hand rough but gentle as he cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear. His dark eyes held hers, stripped bare, filled with a bewildering mix of awe, exhaustion, and a terrifying, undeniable truth.
"Vanja," he breathed, the word raw, stripped of all pretense, all aggression. "Fuck. I love you."
The words hung in the air, fragile and immense. Vanja froze. The tears stopped mid-track. Her breath caught in her throat. She stared down at him, kneeling beside him on the cold floor, surrounded by the evidence of their raw, violent coupling, the glittering city sprawled beneath them a silent witness. His declaration wasn't a growl, a command, or a boast. It was a surrender. An admission ripped from a place deeper than lust or possession.
A choked sob escaped her, but it wasn't fear this time. It was something else entirely. Something that cracked open the dam of years of resentment and hurt. She didn't speak. Couldn't. She just stared at him, her green-gold eyes wide, shimmering with unshed tears, reflecting the impossible truth echoing in the silent, shattered space between them. The echo of his words – I love you – vibrated in the air, louder than the city below, louder than the frantic beating of her own heart.
The echo of his words – I love you – vibrated in the air, louder than the city below, louder than the frantic beating of her own heart. Vanja stared, frozen, kneeling beside Granit’s prone form on the cool concrete. His hand still cupped her cheek, rough skin against her tear-streaked face, his dark eyes wide, stripped bare, reflecting the impossible truth he’d just hurled into the space between them. The scent of sex hung thick – sweat, her arousal, the sharp tang of his release – mingling with the sterile luxury of the penthouse.
Granit blinked slowly, the haze lifting, replaced by dawning horror at his own vulnerability. He tried to pull his hand back, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "Fuck," he rasped, voice raw. "Vanja, I—"
She caught his retreating hand, pressing it harder against her cheekbone. Her own fingers trembled. "Don't," she whispered, the word cracking. "Don't take it back." Her gaze locked onto his, searching the depths for sincerity past the aggression, the possessiveness, the years of being unseen. "Basel," she breathed, the name a blade twisting between them. "You really didn't see me? Not once?"
He flinched as if struck. "I saw someone," he admitted, the confession ripped from him. "Quiet. Smart. Always watching." He swallowed hard, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone. "But I was fucking blind. Arrogant. Lost in my own bullshit." His gaze dropped to her lips, swollen from his kisses, then travelled down her body – skirt bunched at her waist, torn panties around her thighs, blouse undone, skin flushed and marked. "I see you now," he growled, the possessiveness returning, laced with something desperate. "Every fucking inch."
The raw need surged back, hotter than before, fueled by the terrifying intimacy of his confession. Vanja leaned into his touch, a low moan escaping her. "Prove it," she challenged, her voice thick. "Again."
Granit surged upwards, grabbing her waist, hauling her onto his lap as he sat up. His cock, still slick with their mingled fluids, sprang back to life against her inner thigh, thick and insistent. He fumbled with the remaining buttons of her silk blouse, tearing it open, exposing her lace bra. "Fuck the reports," he muttered against her collarbone, biting down hard enough to bruise. "Fuck Basel." His hands shoved the bra cups down, freeing her breasts. He palmed one roughly, thumb scraping over her hardened nipple. "This," he breathed, hot against her skin. "This is all I see."
Vanja gasped, arching into his touch, grinding her soaked core against his hardening length. "Granit," she pleaded, beyond thought, beyond resentment. "Please. Inside me. Now." She reached between them, guiding the thick, flushed head of his cock to her slick entrance. She was swollen, sensitive from her earlier climax, but aching for the stretch, the fullness only he could give.
He didn't hesitate. Gripping her hips, he lifted her slightly and slammed her down onto him. Vanja cried out, head thrown back, as he filled her impossibly deep in one brutal thrust. "Christ, you're still so fucking tight," Granit groaned, his head falling forward against her shoulder. He held her impaled, letting her feel every pulsing inch buried inside her trembling heat. "Clenching around me like a fucking vise."
He began to move her on his cock, lifting her hips and pulling her down with relentless force. The angle was deeper, more intimate than against the wall. Vanja braced her hands on his broad shoulders, meeting each downward plunge, grinding her clit against his pubic bone. The wet, rhythmic slap of their bodies filled the silent room. "Harder," she gasped, nails digging into his skin. "Fuck me harder, Granit. Make me feel it."
He obeyed, his thrusts becoming savage pistons, driving up into her with bruising force. His hands gripped her ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh, spreading her wider. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice guttural. Vanja forced her eyes open, meeting his burning stare. Sweat dripped from his brow onto her chest. "See me?" he demanded, punctuating each word with a deep, grinding thrust that hit her cervix. "See me fucking loving you?"
The raw intensity of his gaze, the brutal possession of his body inside hers, the terrifying truth in his words – it shattered her defenses completely. Tears welled again, blurring the harsh lines of his face. "Yes," she sobbed, the word torn from her soul. "I see you." She leaned down, capturing his mouth in a desperate, messy kiss, tasting salt and desperation. "Granit," she breathed against his lips, her hips rolling frantically against him. "I... I love you too." The admission was a whisper, fragile and immense, lost in the wet sounds of their coupling.
He froze for a split second, buried deep inside her, his eyes widening. Then a groan ripped from him, deeper, more primal than before. His arms locked around her waist, crushing her against him. "Say it again," he demanded, his voice cracking. "Vanja, say it!"
"I love you," she gasped, the words gaining strength, echoing his own surrender. "I love you, Granit." She kissed him fiercely, pouring every ounce of years of hidden feeling into it.
The confession ignited him. His rhythm became frantic, uncontrolled. He fucked up into her with short, desperate jerks, his cock swelling impossibly thicker inside her pulsing channel. "Fuck! Vanja! I'm gonna—" His warning was cut off by a ragged roar as his orgasm detonated. Hot jets of cum flooded her depths, pulsing violently, triggering her own shattering climax. She convulsed around him, milking him, crying out his name against his mouth as wave after wave of blinding pleasure washed through her, merging with the terrifying, exhilarating truth of their shared confession.
They clung to each other, trembling, gasping, slick with sweat and release, Granit still buried deep inside her softening heat. The city lights blurred outside the vast window. The silence now was different – charged, fragile, filled with the echo of words that changed everything. Granit buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breathing ragged against her damp skin. His arms tightened around her, holding her impossibly close, as if she might vanish. Vanja rested her forehead against his, her fingers tracing the tense line of his jaw, feeling the frantic beat of his pulse beneath her touch. Neither spoke. Words were too small, too dangerous, for the raw, exposed vulnerability humming between them on the cold floor. The future yawned, terrifying and bright, built on shattered walls and a confession screamed in the midst of brutal, desperate coupling. They just held on.