Page 34 of Owned

“You have to tell me, Rowan,” he went on, implacable. “Because I’m not playing these fucking guessing games with you. Not when I’m much too old for you and you’re much too inexperienced for me.”

My breathing had become short and fast, my mouth sensitized, the ache between my thighs almost unbearable. I was tired of fighting and not just Atlas, but fighting all my desires. Telling myself I didn’t want the things I wanted. Telling myself I didn’t need them, that I didn’t have time for them, that they were wrong or frivolous, or too expensive.

“I want you,” I said huskily. “And I don’t care if you’re too old for me. I don’t care that I’m too inexperienced. I don’t care that you were my step-father. I don’t care.”

His hand in my hair tightened fractionally, a muscle leaping in the side of his strong jaw, his relentless gaze searching my face. “You need me to touch you, don’t you? Because if you want that, you’re going to have to ask for it.”

12

Atlas

I stood bent over Rowan on the couch, a fistful of her silky black hair in my grip, her eyes wide and dark as they stared into mine. She was looking at me as if I were the only sun in her sky, desperation and desire flaming in her gaze, red staining the pale skin of her cheeks.

Fuck, those words said aloud and her voice all husky and desperate…

This is what you wanted all along.

No, this was exactly what I didn’t want, and I should have pulled back the moment she’d kissed me, but… Fuck, her desperation and those sweet words about how she wanted me slid under my skin and stayed there, waking the beast inside me, hardening my cock and making my blood pump faster and faster.

One little kiss from a pretty, unspoiled girl shouldn’t have tossed twenty years of control into the garbage, twenty years of caging the beast my father had raised, yet somehow it had.

All week since I’d seen Ten, I’d been trying to find some way out for her from Charlotte’s plots. Some way that she’d accept that wouldn’t have some kind of blowback from Charlotte, but I hadn’t been able to find one. Or at least not one that wouldn’t involve Ten going to jail.

In the end I’d had to accept what Ten had said about her being an adult and making her own choices. But I’d already decided that since she was going to marry me, I’d protect her as much as I could from any other machinations Charlotte might undertake.

I’d also decided that since she’d likely white-knuckle her way through this wedding the way I suspected she white-knuckled her way through the rest of her life, it wouldn’t hurt to make things a little easier for her. So I’d bought her the dress and the flowers so she’d have something pretty to wear at the very least, because she used to love pretty things.

I’d see her eyes light up when Cait dressed up for a night on the town, often helping her mother with choosing her jewelry. But she never had pretty things of her own. I assumed it was because Cait didn’t have any money to buy Rowan anything nice, so I’d bought her a birthday gift once of a necklace that spelled her name. I never saw her wear it, though.

Whether she was refusing the dress and flowers out of some kind of penance or sheer bloody-mindedness, I didn’t know. But refuse them she did, even as I’d seen how that refusal had hurt her — there had been tears in her eyes when she’d looked at the gown, even though she’d done her best to hide it — and I was tired of her hurting. I was tired of her pretending she was fine when she wasn’t. And I was tired of her refusing my help, when it was obvious she needed it. All I ‘d wanted was for her to let me in, to be honest with me, but instead of fighting, she’d kissed me and in that moment the monster, the beast half-awake in its cage, woke up, and it was even hungrier than it had been last week in the restaurant bathroom.

I couldn’t fight it. It was too strong even for me. But I still had control of the reins so it wouldn’t get too out of control at least. Giving her a physical release was just like the gown and the veil and the flowers. It would be a gift. For this one day, her wedding day, she could have it all, and it would cost me nothing. The one thing my conscience demanded though, was that she had to say it. She had to tell me exactly what she wanted.

The pretty violet of her gaze had darkened, and she smelled of flowers and musky feminine heat, and I could feel the monster inside me tugging on the reins, wanting me to feed her desire, build it until I was the only thing she could think of. But I ignored it, keeping tight hold of the reins.

“Well?” I demanded. “Tell me what you want.”

Her pale throat moved as she swallowed, the deep flush in her cheeks making her eyes somehow look even darker and more vivid. She was such a pretty, pretty thing.

The blood pounded in my head, the press of my dick against my zipper insistent, but I ignored both sensations. She had to be honest about what she wanted and I was going to insist. I didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us, not about this and not with her.

What you really want is for her to beg.

No. Honesty, that’s all I required.

“I…I…” she whispered uncertainly. “I need to…to…”

“To what?” I kept my grip on her tight, kept my voice firm, and I didn’t look away. She had to say it. She had to tell me, unequivocally.

“A-Atlas…”

Hearing that slight stammer had desire sinking sharp claws into me, but again I dismissed it. This wasn’t about me. This was about her. “Say it,” I growled, pulling at her hair a little. “I want the words. Out loud.”

She gave a soft gasp, the cracks in her self-contained facade beginning to get wider, deeper. She liked being held this way, that was obvious and that made the beast roar louder.

She’ll look so pretty on her knees begging for your cock.

Yet again I shoved that thought away. “Rowan.” I used her name, sharp and hard as a whip crack. “Say it.”

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