Page 48 of Owned

My instinct was still to say yes, purely to show him he couldn’t push me around, but arguing for something I didn’t want to was pointless. Besides, I was sore between my legs and what he’d said about a bath sounded far too good.

I sighed and shook my head, deciding to leave it for the moment.

His smiled deepened, making warmth bloom in my chest. “What? No fight? Not even a ‘how dare you, Atlas?’”

A smile of my own crept out, no matter how much I tried to stop it. “Later,” I said. “I can’t be bothered now.”

“Good.” He shifted, getting up off the couch with me still in his arms. “Let’s get you into that bath.”

I expected him to put me down, but he didn’t.

“You can put me down you know,” I said, a little uncomfortable as we approached the stairs. “I can walk.”

“Sure,” he said without looking at me. “But I want to carry you.”

“Still, I’m not completely helpless.”

He glanced down as he started up the stairs, lazy amusement lurking in his golden eyes. “What’s wrong with being completely helpless?”

“Atlas—”

“Remember what I said about not denying me anything?”

Oh, I remembered. I remembered every word of that particular monologue and a dart of heat shot through me.

You like it. You like being carried by him and you like the thought of being his. He likes it too, so why fight?

There were reasons, I was sure, but I couldn’t think of any. In fact, in that moment all I could think about was him telling me that there wasn’t anything wrong in admitting what I wanted. That there wasn’t anything weak about it either. So maybe I did like being carried by him. Maybe I liked feeling helpless too, and admitting that didn’t make me any less strong. Besides, he was very, very strong and his chest was hot and hard, and he smelled phenomenal.

So I relaxed, leaning back against his shoulder, looking up at him, my gaze helplessly drawn to the hard line of his jaw and the sharp jut of his cheekbones. To the finely carved shape of his mouth and the proud blade of his nose.

He was so beautiful my heart ached.

“Keep staring at me, beauty,” he murmured, his gaze on the stairs in front of him. “You know how I like it.”

I waited for the discomfort to hit that he’d caught me staring, but instead the ache in my chest deepened. He did like it. Just as he liked my desperation for him. It got him off, made him hard. No one else had ever given him what I had, that’s what he’d told me. I was his fantasy. Me and my desperation, my need, my obsession. That was his fantasy.

I relaxed even more, another tight knot inside me untangling. .

“I can’t help it,” I said. “You’re beautiful.”

We’d come to the top of the stairs that led to long, wide hallway, painted white, where he paused a moment, glancing down at me. “Saying that kind of thing will get you into serious trouble, beauty.” His eyes glittered with a flare of heat. “The kind of trouble you’re in no condition to deal with right now.”

There was no doubting what kind of trouble he meant, which delighted me. If he got off on the way I wanted him, then why hide it? Especially when it got me off too.

“Many apologies,” I murmured. “It will happen again.”

He laughed, adding to my delight as we continued on down the hallway until we came to a heavy-looking wooden door that stood open.

Inside was the biggest bathroom I’d ever seen.

It was industrial in style, black pipes standing out against the white walls, with a polished wooden floor. A huge black stone tub stood before the tall windows and there was a massive shower with multiple shower heads. Against one wall, opposite the shower, was a big black marble vanity which Atlas carried me over to and set me down on the top of before going over to the tub to get the water running.

Abruptly, I remembered something.

“You didn’t use a condom,” I blurted out.

Atlas put his hand beneath the water to test the temperature and didn’t look up. “No, I didn’t. But don’t worry, I’m clean.”

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