12. Atticus
Chapter 12
Atticus
S unlight streamed through the large windows of my office, illuminating the room that had been washed in darkness hours ago. Thinking about last night has me ready to call Ezra in here to crawl under my desk. His hands on Lemon, their laughter mingling with the heavy music of the club. My jaw tightens as I rewatch, possessiveness flaring hot and ugly in my chest. The scent of leather and expensive cologne fills the room, but all I can focus on is the way Lemon's body moved against his.
"Fuck," I mutter, running a hand through my hair, my eyes glued to the screen. Every touch, every stolen glance; they're etched into my brain, driving me mad. It's not just jealousy. It's desire boiling my blood hot and thick and making my fists clench.
The door creaks open, breaking my concentration. Lemon steps in, her presence instantly shifting the atmosphere. She looks small and delicate against the backdrop of my office. But her body is a living piece of art and I’m going to enjoy giving it every inch and watching it break for me over and over as I rebuild her up. She looks as if she’s just entered the lion's den with all five-four of her giving off vulnerability and uncertainty. Her dark, wavy hair cascades down her back, framing a face that's both innocent and goddamn defiant. I can’t wait to paint it with cum and watch her mascara run before I make Ezra lick it up.
"Uncle Atti?" Her voice is soft, almost shaky. She worries her lip, a nervous habit I've noticed many times before.
"Come in, Lemon," I say, my tone calm, controlled. I lean back in my chair, twirling my Montblanc's Meisterstück as I study her body language. "Close the door."
She does as she’s told, her movements hesitant. The room feels stiffer now; the tension thickening the air. I watch the way she twirls a strand of hair around her finger. Her anxiety must be at an all-time high.
"Sit." I gesture to the chair opposite my desk. She moves slowly, her eyes flicking to my screen for a brief moment before settling on me.
"Atticus, I…I need to talk to you," she begins, her voice trembling slightly.
"Hmm? Is that so?" I ask, keeping my tone casual, but there's an edge of sarcasm there. I can't help myself. Seeing her with Ezra has stirred primal feelings in me. Last night, I wanted to drag them both into my room and tie them together as I took my frustration out on both of their firm asses.
"Last night, with Ezra..." she trails off, her cheeks flushing with guilt and a little bit of defiance.
"Ah, yes. Mr. Stratton," I interrupt, a sarcastic edge to my tone. "How was your little rendezvous?" I raise an eyebrow, inviting her to lie. Just try it.
Her cheeks flush crimson. It makes me want to kiss away her doubts and devour her innocence in one go. "We were just hanging out, and he was right. I needed to get out of the house," she says, her words barely audible. “Nothing happened.”
"Just talking?" I mock, letting out a dry laugh. "Do you think I'm that gullible, Lemon? I saw it." My eyes narrow, and I can see her squirm under my gaze. "Care to revise your statement?"
“You were there?”
"No, but I didn’t need to be," I cut in, leaning forward. "I watched the whole thing. Club cameras are really a wonderful thing. How else am I supposed to keep an eye on my pets and make sure they do as they’re told?"
Her eyes widen, shock and fear swarming them. Or is it excitement? It's hard to tell, and that only fuels me to push further.
"Every. Single. Touch." I emphasize each word, my voice dropping lower, more intimate. I want her to feel the weight of my possessiveness, to understand just how deep it runs.
"Atticus, I—" she starts, but I hold up a hand, silencing her.
"Don't," I say, my tone sharp. "Not yet. Just listen. Every little grind you did on my playboy. Every time he touched you, my lemon drop. I saw it all."
She swallows hard, her gaze waffling. Yet I can see the vulnerability lurking just beneath the surface. It makes me want to devour her, to claim her in ways she can't even begin to comprehend. I’m going to chew her up and spit her out and when it’s all said and done, I’ll hold it over Lawson’s head just how much I debased his sweet little girl. No one fucks with Atticus Reid.
"You're mine, Lemon," I continue, standing up and moving around the desk. "And I don't share well unless I’m leading the show. Ezra knows this but you, you’ve been a very bad girl. You touch him when I give you permission, and only then."
"Atticus, please," she whispers, but there's no mistaking the tremor in her voice. Whether it's fear or arousal, I can't be sure. Maybe both. I can’t wait to find out all her little tells.
"Please what, Lemon?" I ask, stopping just inches from her. I tower over her, my presence dominating the space. "Tell me, what do you want?"
She looks up at me, her green orbs wide and full of conflicting emotions. "I…I don't know," she admits, her voice barely audible.
"That's okay," I murmur, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. My touch is gentle, but there's an underlying possessiveness to it. "I'll decide for you."
My fingers trail down her cheek, skimming the curve of her jaw and tracing the outline of her trembling lips. Her breath hitches, but I continue, my touch light yet deliberate, mapping every inch of her skin with a clinical precision. I lean in, my lips hovering just above her ear.
"You think you can play innocent," I whisper, my voice a low growl. "But I know better. Deep down, you crave it. Control, dominance. You want to be owned."
Her eyes flare with a need she can't quite hide. But then, something changes. Her shoulders straighten slightly, and a spark of rebellion ignites in those emerald depths.
"Watching without permission," she starts, her voice gaining strength with each word, "is an invasion of privacy. It makes you a creeper, Atticus."
The audacity of her words makes me pause, my hand stilling on her face. I raise an eyebrow, impressed and amused by her sudden backbone .
"Everything Ezra does is under my purview," I retort smoothly, leaning back against my desk. "And as for you, sweet Lemon, it's not my fault you’re too na?ve to consider the company you keep."
She folds her arms across her chest and glares up at me. "You think you can control everything and everyone around you, but newsflash: you're not the king of the world. And I'm not your possession."
I lean in closer until our noses almost touch, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Oh, but you are," I say softly. "You just haven’t realized it yet."
Her defiance only grows stronger. "No one owns me," she declares. "Not Ezra, and definitely not you." Her words hang in the air like a challenge.
I smirk, admiring her fire even as it infuriates me. "That's adorable," I murmur mockingly. "But na?ve little girls who play with fire usually end up getting burned.”
Lemon's cheeks flush, indignation painting her features a delicious shade of pink as her breasts sway in her simple gray tank top. I can’t help but feel my face split in two as I think about how easy it will be to tear the thin cotton into two. Her resolve wavers for a fraction of a second, betraying the conflict roiling inside her. My smirk widens, and I revel in the duality of her vulnerability and rebellion. She's like a mouse caught in a trap, every twitch and gasp betraying her.
She looks up at me with those wide eyes, submissiveness etched into every line of her face. My hand moves from her cheek to the nape of her neck, fingers curling possessively around the delicate column of her throat. I feel the pulse there, rapid and erratic, mirroring the storm inside her.
"Do you know why I watched?" I murmur, my thumb brushing against the vulnerable skin just below her jawline. Her breath catches, and she shakes her head almost imperceptibly. "Because every move you made screamed a need you don't even understand yet."
She shivers beneath my touch. "You're delusional," she whispers boldly.
I chuckle low; the sound reverberating through the room. "Am I?"
Her eyes flash with a stubborn fire. "Yes, you are fucking delusional."
My hand leaves her neck to grab her jaw roughly. Her lips part in surprise, and I take full advantage. "Watch your fucking mouth," I snarl, shoving two fingers into her mouth until they press down on her tongue.
Her warm mouth closes around my fingers instinctively, and I feel the slick heat of her tongue against my skin. It takes every bit of self-control not to lose myself in the sensation.
"You forget your place, Lemon," I growl. "Unless I'm fucking you and you're yelling 'fuck', watch your language." My voice is a low rumble, each word dripping with the promises to come.
For a moment, we're locked in this position: her cheeks flushed with rage and something else entirely, my fingers still buried in her mouth. The scent of her arousal is faint but unmistakable.
Slowly, I withdraw my fingers from her mouth, watching as she swallows hard, her breath coming in short gasps. A thin line of saliva connects us for a beat longer before it breaks and falls away. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, glaring up at me, but the way her pupils are blown wide tells me exactly what I need to know.
"Now that we're on the same page," I say, my voice low and menacing, "say whatever the hell it is you walked in here to say. Because otherwise, you're just wasting my time, and time is money. Something you definitely don't have."
"I need to talk about my father's case," she begins, her voice steadying with each word.
I lean back against my desk, crossing my arms over my chest and eyeing her with amusement. "I’ve already told you the terms of my help. So, are you ready to agree to them?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow.
"Yes," she says softly. "I'll agree to your terms."
"I want to hear you say it, lemon drop." The pet name drips with ownership.
Her chest heaves as she takes a shaky breath. "I agree to let you and Ezra do whatever you want to me," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "Just help my dad get out of prison."
"Excellent," I purr, a slow smirk curling on my lips. "I'm glad to hear you used your critical thinking skills. That makes me very happy." I pause, letting the tension thicken the air between us before leaning in closer. “But Lemon, you’re going to pay for that smart little mouth.”
I reach for the stack of papers on my desk, lifting them with deliberate slowness. The weight of the contract feels significant in my hands.
“This,” I say, handing her the contract, “is what you’re agreeing to.” She takes it with shaky hands, her fingers brushing against mine as she does so.
The contract is detailed and unyielding. Every rule of mine is laid out explicitly: obedience, submission, and boundaries. There’s also space for her hard limits—her absolute no’s—though I suspect she doesn’t even know what those are yet.
“I expect you to read it thoroughly,” I instruct, my voice firm but low. “Write down anything that’s an absolute no for you.”
Her eyes scan the first few lines of text while I watch her expression shift from curiosity to shock. The room is silent save for the rustling of paper and our breathing.
"This is intense," she murmurs.
"Of course it is," I reply smoothly. "I don't do half measures, Lemon. This contract is comprehensive because I intend to own every inch of you—mind, body, and soul."
She gulps audibly. “You expect me to do all of this? Some of these…I can't even…" Her voice trails off, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson as she reads further.
“Yes,” I say, my voice full of authority. “Everything.”
I see my door crack open slightly behind Lemon’s head and I lift my head until my eyes connect with Ezra’s. He’s such a nosey little brat.
“Sign it or don’t. The choice is yours,” I command, handing her a pen. She hesitates for just a moment before taking it. Her fingers tremble as she puts the pen to paper, but she doesn't stop. I watch the feminine swirl of her name etched on the paper in the rich black ink.
I take the stack of papers back from her afterward. I think I’ll make copies and have them mailed to Lawson. He no doubt needs some reading material.