Page 82 of The Anchor Holds

As much as I enjoyed Elliot taking control in sexual situations, I didn’t like him literally leading me into the woods for reasons unknown. Unless those reasons were fucking in the dirt. And it was cold. It had rained last night, so the ground was too muddy for that.

“For a walk,” Elliot stated blandly, as if it was obvious. As if us going on a fucking walk after one of the most pivotal points in my life was second nature.

“Awalk?” I tried to pull my hand from his grip, but he only tightened his fingers.

I could’ve tried to plant my feet on the ground like an unruly toddler, but I wasn’t ready to get that undignified, and I liked Elliot’s warm, dry hand in mine. The crunch of dirt under my shoes, the light filtering through the canopy of the trees.

“We’re not having sex?” Despite all of the nice things, none measured up to sex with Elliot.

I’d set this whole fucking forest on fire if it meant sex with Elliot.

I felt his low, throaty chuckle in my lower belly. “We’ll be having a lot of sex, Calliope.” He glanced at me, dark and hungry. “I may take you right here in the dirt if I feel like it.”

My body rejoiced at him verbalizing what I’d dismissed only minutes ago. I instantaneously changed my mind. Who cared about a little bit of mud?

“I’m in charge,” he reminded me as he kept our pace. “You coming here was agreeing to that, was it not?”

I pursed my lips together, not doubting my decision for a moment. Because instead of stoking the fire of feminism in mybody by suggesting he was in charge of me, it only served to electrify my salacious nerve endings.

"I'm going to fuck you good, Calliope,” he continued. “But you made me wait three days. So I’m gonna make you wait just a little. I’m going to make you go on a walk with me.” He paused, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. “I may make you beg.”

Again, in theory, such a statement should’ve filled me with revulsion. Not bone-clenching need. Every cell in my body swelled at the thought of begging Elliot.

I swallowed thickly, keeping up with him as he walked us through what I assumed was his path through the woods. His property spanned about an acre. The rest of it was state land, some nature preserve or another.

I’d already done my due diligence on Elliot. I knew about the mortgages he had on this place, the debt he’d accrued to cover Clara’s medical bills, to keep their fishing and restaurant businesses afloat. Elliot was barely making ends meet. He was struggling. Yet there hadn’t been even a crease of worry between his brows as long as I’d known him.

“How is she?” I blurted. “Clara?”

If Elliot thought it was odd for me to be asking about his niece when we’d been discussing me begging him to fuck me moments ago, he didn’t show it.

His expression switched back to tender, loving uncle mode. I liked that almost as much as the hungry Dom.

“She’s great.” The palpable weight on his shoulders the last time we’d spoken about her was gone. “More than great. Healthy. Her blood cell count is recovering faster than the doctors had hoped, which hopefully means she’ll be discharged from the hospital, back home and to some semblance of normalcy soon.” He side-eyed me. “She’s been asking about when you’re coming over next. You made an impression.”

“I tend to do that,” I shrugged cockily.

He didn’t smile. “Yes, you do,” he uttered seriously.

I tripped on something underfoot, being caught unaware by the seriousness of his tone. Elliot didn’t miss a beat as he took my weight, stopping me from falling.

I struggled to even my breathing. Such a simple thing, him catching me without a second thought, like it was natural. I’d never experienced a relationship where I knew I’d be caught before I could fall. Never let anyone think I was capable of falling.

“We’ll have dinner with them when she’s cleared for visitors,” he continued.

“We will, will we?” I asked, voice sharp. “You’re in charge of when I come, not who I have dinner with.” I didn’t even bother addressing the use of the royalwe,since it equally scared the shit out of me and pleased me. Nor did I admit that I wanted to have dinner with Clara, to lay eyes on her and bask in the glow of knowing she was healthy, recovering. It was a balm to my ruined soul.

“You want to say no to dinner with Clara?” His hand tightened around mine.

“Of course, I won’t.” My teeth found my lip as I navigated the terrain, both physically and emotionally. “I’m just saying no to the concept of you monopolizing my time.”

Elliot stopped us abruptly, turning to face me. “Me planning a dinner with my woman and my family isn’t me monopolizing your time.” There was no hint of teasing on his face. “It’s me ensuring that you understand what I’m doing. You’re in my life, Calliope. Not half in, half out. You’re gonna be in my bed, naked, begging me for my cock. You’re gonna eat my food. Sit at a table with my family. Sleep next to me. That’s happening.”

I sucked in air. Or attempted to. It felt as if I were suffocating on his words. So plain yet so determined.

I liked that he controlled sex. But this was something else. This was controlling the whole direction of my life. Who I was.

Acting like I was his woman.

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