Chapter Nine
Owned
Amy
“What?” Panic flared in her voice as she grappled with his change of tack, her head scarcely able to keep up with the unraveling events.
First, the ropes, then the completely unwarranted spanking, and then Jonah’s call. She needed time to process any one of those events, let alone all of them. There was no way she was in the mood for sex, especially with the man seemingly hellbent on tormenting her.
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t want this!”
“Rubbish,” he scoffed, already kicking her ankles wider with his feet. “You always say that, yet every time I reach between your legs, you’re fucking soaking for me.”
Her brow furrowed. That might have been true in the time when he’d wooed her, and she’d been discovering her sexual masochism—but things had been different then. They had been different. Past assent didn’t give him permission to take whatever he wanted.
“I said no.” She shuffled her feet together, conscious of his hand tightening at her hip, but before she could get her bearings, he pushed her down over the arm of the chair.
“And I said, you don’t make the rules.” The same ruthless palm that had pinned her down to be spanked was shoved at the middle of her back, compelling her to endure the latest indignity. “After all the shit you’ve given me, I deserve this.”
“What?” It seemed to be all she could say, but pushed over the same sofa he’d just spontaneously spanked her over, she couldn’t believe the man she’d fallen for was being such a brute. Even by Kyle’s standards, it was low. “Listen to me… not like this.”
“Not like this, eh?” The hand on her back shifted, snaking around her belly and hoisting her upright. She blinked around her giddily, turning her head to look at him. “Then how about this?” His palm slid south, gently stroking between her legs. “Is that what my little girl needs?”
“Sir.” Exasperation echoed in her voice, his nudging fingertips already coaxing pleasure from her clit. If she didn’t know better, his caresses would weave their magic and leave her powerless to resist him. “Please.”
“Settle down.” His lips lowered and nuzzled at the side of her neck. “We both know you want this.”
“Please.” She whimpered the word that time, allowing his cock to slip into place between her ass cheeks.
The simmering paradox between them was why Kyle was so galling. He tore straight through her boundaries with apparent delight, yet he could ignite such passion in her body. Amy never knew what to expect next. In the time she’d been in Brock Hall, it seemed as though her feet had hardly touched the ground.
“I know.” His voice had taken on that seductive purr, his free hand reaching beneath her bodice and tugging one, then the other breast free from the flimsy fabric. “I know, little girl.” His digits trailed a line around her beading nipples, pulling and lengthening them as the fingers of his other hand stroked her sex.
“Sir.” Permitting her head to fall back against his chest, she moaned. She was giving in—she knew she was—that’s why she was willing his roaming finger to slide inside her.
Even after everything he’d done—the way he’d hauled, cuffed, and spanked her—she still craved him.
“You want my fingers.” His murmur was more of a statement than a question. “Tell me you want them, and you shall have what you desire.” His mouth grazed her nape at the same time the hand at her breasts pinched her needy buds.
“Fuck!” Pushing out her chest to receive more of his attention, she sensed the knot of pulsing longing tighten at her core.
“Tut, tut, tut.” The hand at her breast withdrew and slapped her sensitive tissue gently. “You know how I feel about that language.”
“Please!” She was begging him again when she should have been looking to leave.
“Tell me.” His tone was more insistent that time. “Give me what I want, little girl.”
Damn him.
The passion his fingertips were creating was growing, and she sensed herself getting lost to it. Her head fogged so that all the pressing issues that had seemed so important before swam only on the periphery. There, in the center, was the man who’d been able to master her from the very beginning.
“I want your fingers, sir.” She spat out the words, loathing herself for admitting the truth, yet acknowledging its power all the same. “Please, fuck me with them.”
“Naughty girl.” He chuckled at her faux pas, but rather than punish, two of his fingers had already slid into her pussy.
Her lips parted at the intrusion. It shouldn’t have been so welcome, shouldn’t have stirred her up inside the way it did, but God knew, the sensation was incredible.
“Jesus!” Grasping the pristine sleeves of his jacket, she struggled to catch her breath. Her hips rocked against his fingers, their tempo too perfect and threatening to push her straight to the precipice. “I can’t…” She couldn’t even get her words out. “I can’t think.”
“Don’t think.” His breath was warm on her skin. “Just feel , baby. Feel me inside you, on you, over you… know that you’re mine.”
Her eyelids fluttered at his soft tone, his palm grazing over her clit in the most sublime way, and all the while, his rock-hard cock throbbed urgently between her punished cheeks, reminding her how much he wanted her.
She wanted to call out, though certainly it wasn’t for him to stop. In the end, she mewled, conscious only of his warmth, his spicy, reassuring scent, and the relentless rhythm of his fingers—their ferocity combining to take her right to the brink of ecstasy.
A strangled cry leaked from her lips as the power of the pleasure hit her, her pussy spasming at the same moment her knees gave way.
“I have you.”
His arm slid to her middle, holding her against him as she tumbled into rapture. She was vaguely aware of his voice from behind her, spreading over her like an angelic energy as she floated in warm, cherishing air.
I have you.
The words reverberated in her mind as she finally found the strength to lift her head. He did have her. Even when she’d been so certain the last thing she needed was anything from him, there he was—offering her an intensity of feeling she’d never reckoned on.
“There.” He edged her closer to the sofa until her shins brushed the cool leather. “That’s better, little girl.”
Leaning her forward, she caught her weight over the arm of the couch. It was better. So much fucking better.
“I need you.” There was no aggression in his voice, only the same taunting tone of need she’d known herself until she’d detonated.
“Yes.”
Whatever had happened and whatever he’d done, at that moment, she had no thought of denying him. Pleasure was Kyle’s power, and she’d taken what he’d had to give. It only seemed right that she offered him the same solace in return.
“Take me.” She folded over the leather, thankful for its cold surface against her heated skin as the crown of his dick skimmed her slick folds.
She called out when he filled her, basking in the feeling of completion. Nothing she’d known had ever been as good as that feeling—hell, nothing even came close.
Reaching for the edge of the seat, she moaned as he slammed back inside her, her senses alive with the intensity of his possession.
She hadn’t intended to end up there, strewn over the sofa and groaning for his cock. When he’d finally freed her from the cuffs, all she could think about was liberty. After Jonah’s call, she’d been scattered by Seth’s news, but as Kyle’s balls smacked against her flesh, she was finally grounded by their carnal connection.
The twisted love they shared was madness—but in the haze of the last few months, she’d learned to cling to it like driftwood in the ocean. Kyle’s protection and strength were the only sanity in an insane world, and giving herself to him seemed like the most natural thing in that lunacy.
He’d come to her, and as if in a dream, he’d rescued her. Whatever the circumstances of their meeting—and she was still sure he had more to confess than had been said so far—his wealth and contacts had secured her a debt-free future. His generosity didn’t excuse his bad behavior, but she couldn’t forget that without him, she’d have likely been homeless and her youngest son potentially in custody instead of finishing his degree. Amy had reasons to be thankful that extended beyond the hard cock fucking her so beautifully over the couch’s arm.
“Amy.” The strain was evident in his voice as his arm scooped her from the leather and pulled her flush against him. She rose without resistance, reaching behind her to clutch at his hair. “I fucking love you.”
His hips snapped forward with such force, she nearly toppled forward, but his strapping arms held her steady as he screwed her into oblivion.
“Sir!”
She screamed out, overwrought as their bodies collided, yet knowing she didn’t want anything more than to be there with him—in the room that had become her prison—with the man who was able to dominate her every waking sense.
Perhaps a love like theirs wasn’t supposed to make sense?
Maybe in the craziness of the lives they’d inherited, the supremacy of that feeling was all they could ask for—power, passion, and ultimately, pleasure.
As he roared his release and collapsed forward, pushing them both back over the edge of the sofa, all she could think was there was no end to them. Whatever he did, she’d forgive him because the magic they conjured was just too great to do otherwise.
It seemed the higher she built her barriers, the taller he became, able to ascend any obstacles she thought would stand in their way.
She loved him, she hated him, but one thing was sure.
She couldn’t imagine life without him.