Chapter 15
15
Rowan
H e was trying to frighten me. He was trying to make me run with the rough, dirty things he said, I could see it in his eyes. But I could also see what lay underneath them: yes, he wanted me to run, but he also wanted me to stay. He wanted me to do those things for him, give them to him.
He was standing very close, his powerful figure towering over me, dominating me. His arms were folded across his impressive chest and his gaze was focused, intent. He made no attempt to hide the molten heat and hunger in his eyes, he let the flames burn for me to see.
He was so fucking hot I couldn’t breathe.
I was fighting shock at the things he’d said, as well the dark, dirty hunger that had flickered into life as soon as those words were out of his mouth. A hunger that wanted his dominance and his darkness, that wanted to be his fuck toy to play with whenever he wished. That wanted to be owned, because a possession never had to make decisions or be strong, or earn money, or care for anyone. A possession only needed to exist, and there was a part of me, buried so deep I hadn’t known it was there, that only wanted that.
Except, that was wrong. It was very, very wrong. I’d never wanted to be dependent on men, not emotionally, physically or monetarily. Not for anything, not like my mother had been. Yet that’s what Atlas wanted and while there was a secret part of me that longed for it, the rest of me was frightened by it. I didn’t want to do everything he said without argument. I didn’t want to be punished or to have what I wanted not matter.
You want to be his. You’re desperate for it.
I looked up at him, almost battered by the ferocity in his eyes. What would it be like to be owned by him? He’d be demanding, oh yes, and possessive. He’d also be dirty and rough, directing all that intensity on me…
He’d make you like it, and that’s what you’re really afraid of.
Yes. I was afraid that way deep down inside me, there was a part of me that was just like Mom. Desperate for male attention. Desperate to be looked after and protected. Desperate to hide behind someone else’s strength, because it was so hard relying on my own.
Atlas could be that for me. He could make himself my whole world. He could make me do whatever he wanted just to please him, and that was what scared me. He was everything I’d secretly been longing for my whole life, and I couldn’t let myself have him. I couldn’t. Not if I wanted to still be standing when he walked away.
But wouldn’t it feel so good to stop fighting what you know you really want? To let him own you? Even just for a little while…
A shiver went down my spine, my skin tight and hot as the images of me trembling before the priest, of Atlas’s fingers pressing down on my clit, and then of myself kneeling before him and opening my mouth to receive him played in my head.
My face was on fire. I wanted to tell him that no way in hell would I let him do any of those things, that I didn’t want to be owned, and yet the throbbing between my thighs gave me away. My own desperate need gave me away. What would he taste like? What would it feel like to have his cock in my mouth? What would it be like to give him pleasure? Would it be humiliating to kneel before him? Did I really want to submit to him like that?
“Well?” he demanded, rough and uncompromising. “Are you brave enough for a blow job or are you going to run?”
My sex throbbed, my heart battering itself against my ribs. “So what are you saying? If…if I do that for you, you’ll own me?”
His gaze on me was relentlessly fierce. “A blow job. Yes or no, Rowan.”
“But what do you mean about?—”
“It’s a simple question. Yes or no. Answer me.”
“But I…I don’t…”
“Don’t think. Just choose.” There was no mercy in his voice, only a demand that hooked into that buried part of me and dragged it into the light.
“I can’t.” The words came out in a breathless rush. “I can’t choose.”
The pressure of his gaze was relentless, studying me as if he was a scientist and I was a new and interesting specimen he’d just discovered. “You want me to choose for you?”
I sucked in a trembling breath, caught on the horns of my own indecision. Too afraid to say yes, too desperate to say no. “I…I….”
“Stop thinking,” he ordered, his voice deep and heavy with a certainty that made something in me freeze. “I’ll make the choice for you.” Then he stepped around me, coming to stand behind me, and he put his large, warm hand on the back of my neck and gripped me by the scruff like a kitten.
I went still, my breath coming in rushing pants as slowly, inexorably, he pushed me down onto the floor on my knees. My mind had gone blank, no thought in my head as my nerveless fingers let go of my bouquet, leaving it to fall on the floor in a splash of fragile white petals.
Then the dominant pressure Atlas’s hand released and he walked around to stand in front of me once again, the black tips of his shoes nudging the white silk of my wedding gown.
“Eyes up,” he said, and like I was already his to command, I lifted my gaze to his. The heat and the intensity in it almost knocked me flat and automatically I looked down again. “No. I gave you an order, toy. Do as you’re told.”
I should have protested, should have gotten up and walked out, proved to him that I wasn’t a damn toy, but I found myself staying where I was and looking back up at him again, caught in the unholy magnetism of his gaze.
His hand dropped to his belt and what little breath I had left vanished.
He was silent as he undid the buckle of his belt slowly and with some deliberation, watching me all the while. And weirdly it felt as if he was giving me time to understand what was going on and to stop if I wanted him to. Or maybe he was simply ramping up that anticipation and the throb inside me, a deep, relentless ache that kept me glued to the floor, no matter that another frightened part of me wanted to get up and run out that door.
That fear again. Fear of what he made me feel, of what he could make me do, of the depth of my hunger for him and what that said about me. Back on the couch, before he’d touched me, I’d gotten beyond that fear, but now it returned full force. And this time it had another component: what if I couldn’t do what he wanted? What if I couldn’t give him the ‘best blowjob of his life’? I’d never done this before so I had no idea what would give him pleasure and what wouldn’t.
“Toys don’t think,” Atlas said, apparently reading my mind as he flicked open the button of his pants. “Toys only do what they’re told.”
I sucked in an unsteady breath. The force of his gaze, like a hand around my throat, and the hard note in his voice were weirdly reassuring. If toys didn’t think, then I didn’t have to. I could just kneel here, waiting for him to tell me what to do, and god…what a relief that would be. To not think, not fight, not pretend. To just…exist.
His gaze roamed over my face as he took hold of his zipper tab and began to draw it down. “Good. Stay like that. I’ll tell you what to do.”
I didn’t move, my breath rushing in and out, the movement of his hands hypnotizing me. I could see the hard length of his cock pressing against the cotton of his underwear and my mouth dried. Holy hell, he was big, not that I should have been surprised given his height and gladiator’s build. Everything about him was big.
I swallowed, nervous tension and hunger gathering in a tight, complicated ball in my stomach.
“If you think I’m going to go easy on you because you’re a virgin, you’re mistaken,” he murmured. “You could have said no, toy, but you didn’t. So don’t say you weren’t warned.” His hand reached down and he freed the massive length of his cock.
My breathing accelerated as I took him in, the shape of him big and long and curving up to his flat abdomen. His skin was smooth and velvety and he was just as beautiful there and he was everywhere else. Again, not surprising.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered.
Nerves collected in the pit of my stomach, shivers chasing over my skin. I couldn’t have disobeyed him if I’d tried. I opened my mouth, and watched the gold of his eyes flare, brilliant and hot. It was turning him on to have me like this, and he wasn’t hiding it. His desire was mesmerizing and I knew it was for me. Because of me.
The remains of my doubts fell away, leaving behind them only breathless anticipation, a wild thrill coursing through my bloodstream.
He gripped his cock in one fist, but he didn’t move, not yet. “Beg for it,” he growled. “Beg for my cock. Beg to worship me the way a good bride should.”
“Please,” I heard myself say, my voice hoarse. “Please…I-I want to worship you.”
His mouth curved in a feral smile. He liked me begging oh yes, he liked it a lot, and I liked his pleasure. It made my sex throb, made me wet for him.
“Very good.” His voice got deeper, rougher, threaded through with heat. “Keep your eyes on me.”
And I kept them on him as he guided the head of his cock into my mouth, his gaze holding mine. He didn’t hide his pleasure, didn’t pretend that he wasn’t turned-on, and watching him made me want to give him more of it, undo him completely the way he’d undone me.
His flavor was salty and musky, and delicious, which I hadn’t expected, and when I hesitantly pressed my tongue to him, he made a soft growling sound that I found incredibly erotic. Then he reached down, sliding his fingers into my hair and holding me steady as he pushed deeper into my mouth, my lips stretching wide around him.
I trembled, the throb between my legs insistent and when his fingers tightened and he began to thrust into my mouth, I couldn’t stop the moan that was torn from me. I didn’t understand how this could be so erotic when I was the one giving pleasure to him, yet it was. The taste of him and his heat and his smoky, masculine scent were all aphrodisiacs that I had no hope of fighting.
He thrust deeper, harder, hitting the back of my throat and making my eyes water, but I furiously blinked away the tears because I wanted to see him. I was addicted to the taut expression on his face and how molten his eyes were.
I lifted my hands to his powerful thighs and gripped him, bracing myself.
“Fuck, you’ve got a hot mouth,” he purred. “Use your tongue and your teeth, toy. I can take it. I’m not fragile.”
I didn’t know what he meant, but I tried, swirling my tongue around the head of his cock and then using the edge of my teeth to nip him. He growled again, which sent a surge of answering pleasure through me.
He began to thrust even harder and I couldn’t stop the low moans that broke from me. That seemed to get him off even more, because he got rougher and faster, making my eyes water and my jaw ache. Making me press my thighs together and grip his harder, because I was getting off on this as much as he was.
I desperately wanted to touch myself, give myself some relief, but he seemed to know immediately the thought occurred to me, because he gave me a savage smile. “Don’t you dare,” he warned, his voice full of gravel. “It’s your husband’s cock you should be giving attention to, not that little pussy of yours.”
I shuddered at the rough words and the heat in them, holding onto his thighs tightly instead, my eyes streaming, my jaw aching, desperate for his touch. Desperate too to see his beautiful face, to watch his eyes go incandescent with the pleasure I brought him.
In the end I didn’t have to do much but hold on as he fucked my mouth, his fingers painfully tight in my hair. Then he said in a voice I didn’t recognize, “I’m going to come and you’ll swallow every fucking drop, because that’s what good little fuck toys do.” Then he came, a savage growl bursting from him as he emptied himself down my throat, and I was good, I swallowed every drop.
Afterwards, all I could do was lean forward, resting my head against his powerful thighs as he tucked himself away. I was a mess, my throat bruised, an agonizing throb between my legs.
Atlas remained silent, his hands moving lazily in my hair, smoothing it back from my forehead. The light touch made my whole body tremble uncontrollably, and my bruised throat tightened, a surge of emotion bringing me close to tears for absolutely no reason that I could see.
I was desperate for him not to notice, so when he tried to pull my face away from where I’d buried it against his thighs, I resisted. I didn’t want him to see. I felt too vulnerable, too outside myself and out of control. My brain had kicked into high gear again, telling me that being this desperate for a man was a bad thing, because look what it had done to my mother. I didn’t want to be her, did I? Fragile and vulnerable, and needing someone to take care of her? No, of course I didn’t. I wanted to be stronger than that, I had to be stronger than that.
Atlas was still a minute then he crouched down in front of me. I turned away, not wanting him to see my face and read the vulnerability I couldn’t hide there. Also, my mascara was no doubt a complete mess because of how my eyes had watered from the press of his cock against the back of my throat, and then with this stupid prickle of tears.
“Look at me,” he said.
I shook my head, but then he gripped my chin and turned me resolutely to face him. His gaze was so sharp, so perceptive it felt as if he was looking right into my soul, and my eyes welled up with helpless tears yet again.
“No arguments, remember?” The lines of his face were uncompromising and hard, and I shivered yet again. “And you’re thinking again. I don’t want you to think, toy.” He turned my head slightly, studying me. “You’re desperate though, aren’t you? That pretty little pussy of yours all wet and hungry, hmmm? You’re desperate to be fucked, aren’t you, toy? Answer me.”
The tears slid down my face, I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t hide either, not from him. All I could do was nod, because yes, I was desperate to be fucked. I was desperate to be fucked by him.
“Say it,” he said, relentless. “Give me all the dirty words.”
“I…I…w-want to be fucked?—”
“No, you don’t want. You’re desperate , remember?”
“I…I’m desperate to be f-fucked. By…y-you.”
“Nice.” The approval in his voice made more tears slide down my cheeks and he watched, his gaze unreadable. “Remember though, this is not for you. This is all for me. So when I fuck you, it’s because I want to. Not because you want me to, hmm?”
I nodded automatically, now beyond speech.
Then he rose to his feet, pulling me up with him before marching me over to the sofa. But instead of sitting down on the cushions, he made me stand behind the back of it. Then he said, “Bend over. Put your hands on the sofa back.”
Anticipation and hunger almost strangled me. His hand was on the nape of my neck, pushing me down and forward, his hold dominant and forceful, and all I could think about was being in that room in Arcadia, watching as he fucked that woman, just the way he was about to fuck me now.
I was going to come. He wouldn’t even have to touch me. I could come with his hand on the back of my neck, just like this. Just like my fantasies.
My fingers dug into the worn velvet of the sofa back as his grip on my neck firmed and he hauled my wedding gown up to my hips. Cool air whispered across the backs of my thighs and I caught my breath.
“Keep still,” he ordered, then his hands were jerking down my panties, pushing the fabric until they slid around my ankles. I went to step out of them, but his voice stopped me. “No. What did I tell you?”
I was panting again, my breath getting even faster as he kicked my feet apart, the fabric between my ankles. The feeling of constriction was almost unbearable. I couldn’t stop shaking.
Then his hand was gripping the back of my neck again and I heard the zipper of his pants. “You’ve been fantasizing about this, haven’t you?” he murmured. “Me fucking you from behind the way I fucked Tina. Did you touch yourself thinking about me, toy? Did you get yourself off imagining my cock in your virginal little pussy?”
I shut my eyes, panting like a dog, the things he was saying, the rough heat in his voice making everything so intense and winding my desperation tighter. I shook as I held onto to the sofa, biting hard on my bottom lip as one big, hot hand slid over my bare ass cheek and squeezed hard. A cry burst from me, that become a wail as I felt the head of his cock press against my slippery flesh from behind, and press hard.
He began to push inside me, stretching me wide, relentless, and even though I’d already had the most intense orgasm I’d ever experienced not a half hour before, another slammed through me and I sobbed, shaking and shaking.
But he wasn’t done, pushing deeper. It hurt and yet it felt so good at the same time. It was too much and yet not enough. I shuddered, gasping, my brain unable to make sense of the sensations. Then he pushed even deeper and I shook, my head hanging down, my breathing ragged.
“Take me,” he demanded roughly. “Take all of me, toy. You’re not done. I haven’t even started fucking you yet.”
I groaned, because now it was too much, the feel of him pushing relentlessly inside me, his heat behind me, the grip of his hand on the back of my neck. Then he began to move and through the burn and the ache of sensitive tissues being stretched, through the sharp bright pain, I was shocked to find pleasure beginning to gather tight inside me yet again.
“Atlas….” His name escaped me like a prayer as he began to thrust hard and deep, his cock sliding out of me then back in again, causing a relentless friction that had me gasping.
He was rough and like he said, there was no going easy on me and that dark part of me gloried in it. He wasn’t treating me like some fragile, inexperienced virgin. He was treating me as if I was as strong as he was, able to match his demands, and he wasn’t asking me questions. Wasn’t requiring me to think. The only thing he required was that I did what I was told and so that’s what I did.
“Atlas,” I whispered again, the pleasure getting more and more intense. “Oh my god….” I couldn’t do anything but grip hard to the sofa, moving with the relentless drive of his hips, the thrust of his cock getting harder, faster.
“Yes, say it,” he said in a voice full of gravel. “Say my name. Scream it. I want to know you like it. Give all of that to me.”
I groaned, obeying without thought. “Yes…I-I like it….Atlas…please.…”
“Fuck, I love it when you beg, toy.”
I was so sensitive from the orgasm he’d just given me and yet the pleasure in his voice had me on the brink of a second one already and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t handle it more. Yet, more was exactly what I needed.
He seemed know that instinctively, because he reached for my one of my hands where it gripped the sofa, pulling it away and forcing it down between us, guiding my fingers to where we were joined so I could feel my own flesh stretched around him.
I shuddered as he pressed one of my fingers down on my clit, the thrust of his cock getting even faster until the combination of pressure and friction made the tight knot of pleasure burst apart. I screamed as the orgasm swept over me, then I felt him grip my hips hard, give two deep thrusts before he roared his release.
I shut my eyes, tasting my own tears against his lips.