SIX
W hen I wake up, I spread my fingers across Rowan’s side of the bed—a cold, empty mess of sheets. And I can’t help but wonder if all of last night has been nothing but a dream, just like the many others I’ve had of him.
But I scan my eyes around the room, and I know it wasn’t. His scent still lingers all over me—of leather and pine—and I bask in it like a cat kneading in soft cushions.
Last night was… intense. He had me wrapped around his finger with his low voice and his demeaning orders that made me want to beg for more of him. And that tongue. God , that tongue…
My pussy jolts awake at the memory, and I bite my lip, wondering why he isn’t here to make good on the promise he mentioned before we fell asleep. I drape my legs over the mattress and pick up Rowan’s immaculate shirt from yesterday that I find tossed across one of the armchairs. I walk out into the hallway while buttoning it all the way down.
The hotel suite has quite a bunch of rooms, and I have no idea where to even look for him. But it doesn’t take long before butterflies come to life in my stomach at the sound of his voice coming from one of them. I can’t help my smile from spreading across on my face.
He’s here. And he’s mine. And—
“Kill them all,” he says, dragging a silent gasp out of me.
I press myself to the wall next to what seems to be his temporary office, shock spreading through my body. I don’t dare move a muscle or make a noise. Because I know, even if we’ve just reconnected, that what I’ve just heard isn’t the voice of my Rowan. It’s the voice of the Commander himself.
“With all due respect, Commander, this would cause massive backlash if it somehow got out,” another voice answers. A voice that’s not too soft, but not too tense either—as if the man wants to take control of the situation, but Rowan’s mind keeps pushing against his own, never giving him the opportunity to do so.
“Backlash is the least of my concerns, Sergeant. We want to win this war, not bat our eyelashes to the public for sympathy.”
“But if it gets out…”
“Then make sure it doesn’t. Excuse me one moment— Angel, stop hiding like a little mouse and come sit with me,” he hollers, and my heart leaps to my throat.
Fuck .
“I…um… I’m not decent right now.”
“Even better.” I can practically see the dark smile etching across his face.
“I’m sorry,” I’m quick to say, “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll make myself scarce until you—”
“Dove,” he growls, and goose bumps pebble my skin as my body registers the low vibrations of his voice. “If I wanted you to leave, I’d have said so. Come here. I won’t ask again.”
With shallow breaths I walk through the doorframe, my cheeks burning with shame as I come face-to-face with Rowan. He’s sitting at a huge mahogany desk, all dressed up, talking to another man whose uniform doesn’t show a single crease.
“Don’t be shy, angel. Sergeant Rhames won’t bite.”
But I am shy. I am so fucking shy, and the thought of another man seeing me walk in wearing nothing but Rowan’s shirt makes me want to disappear into thin air. It also makes me horny as fuck.
As quietly and quickly as possible, I tiptoe to Rowan’s side of the desk until I finally see the face of this other man. He’s tall and muscular, his skin a russet, reddish-brown color. And he doesn’t look uncomfortable at all to see me—as if he’s used to Rowan’s ways and insanity.
Or as if… Rowan’s done this before. With other women. The thought sends daggers through my heart but I try to remain unfazed as Rowan extends his hand toward me and pulls me in.
“Perfect,” he says, offering up praises while looking me up and down with a smile. “Be a good girl and sit quietly while I finish this conversation.”
I look around, but there’s no other chair. Where does he want me to sit?
“On your knees, angel.”
Oh, fuck.
My cheeks flush and my pussy clenches, eager to please him in whichever way he wants. Sergeant Rhames doesn’t react, though I try my hardest to avoid his stare.
I could call in my safe word. Pink —I could say it right now if I wanted to. But I don’t. Whatever Rowan has got planned for me today, I want all of it. I want to lick my plate clean.
“Okay,” I whisper, lowering myself to my knees at his feet, the desk hiding my face away. The only view I get is that of the wood and the polished floor under my ass.
Rowan’s hand comes down and rests on the top of my head, his fingers gently digging into my hair, caressing it—caressing me . The action is soft and endearing and unlike anything else I’ve experienced as a grown adult. There’s something deeply erotic about being touched like this, every movement of his fingers charged with dark, delicious promise.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” he asks, and Sergeant Rhames lets out a short chuckle.
“Very,” he agrees, a hint of something odd in his tone as he continues, “I would call you a lucky bastard if you weren’t my boss.”
I hold my breath at the sound of that, expecting Rowan to strangle this man for the way he just spoke to him. And I’m not the only one doing that—for a few moments, it feels as if the entire room has become sentient and stopped breathing.
But Rowan doesn’t react like that. Instead, I feel his body shake with a low laugh as he continues to caress my hair under the table.
“That I am, Sergeant. Now… please go and execute my orders, and watch over this operation yourself. Don’t answer any questions on my behalf. If anyone wants to challenge this decision, they know how to reach me. Is that understood?”
More silence, save for the weight of Sergeant Rhames moving from one leg to the other.
Rowan’s hand stops in my hair, and for some reason I am the one feeling nervous over this whole thing. I can practically feel the tension wafting over in the air like a winter blanket of snow.
“Is. That. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” he finally says, and I can see Rowan tilting his head, observing him with a subtle smile lifting in the corner of his mouth. The kind you definitely don’t want to be around.
Then Sergeant Rhames’s feet start moving away from the desk, and I breathe out my nerves when I realize he’s gone, my body going loose under Rowan’s touch.
“Good morning, angel. Sleep well?”
I look up at him with big, concerned eyes, nodding softly as I meet his stare.
“I was kind of hoping you’d walk in here naked, the way I left you in our bed. But since you chose to wear my shirt instead of yours, I can’t be too mad about it.”
Our bed.
“But then Sergeant Rhames…” I mumble. “He would’ve seen me. All of me.”
“Yes,” he smiles. “And he would’ve hated me even more than he does. Because he can’t have you, angel. No one else can.”
My nipples harden at the dominance in his voice, and a whimper drags out of my throat. If he wants to share me, he will. If he wants to keep me away from everyone else, he will. Whatever he wants to do, he will do it. All the while my heart and my body keep on telling him yes .
“I quite like the sight of you on your knees,” he grunts, his hand wrapping around the back of my neck. “Are you comfortable?”
“Yes,” I say in a hushed tone. “I like it too. I like following your orders.”
His eyes soften for just a moment before he drags his free hand over his face.
“Where have you been all my life, angel? You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You know that?”
I smile, his hand tightening on my neck possessively. Until I remember—
“Rowan?”
“Hmm?”
“What was all that about? Is the war starting again?”
“The war never truly ended, angel.”
“But the press… they’re saying…”
“The press is lying. There was a short time frame where it looked like we’d won. But unfortunately, things are rarely that straightforward.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t need to worry. I’ve got you. You’re mine now, Dove. And as long as I breathe, nothing’s going to happen to you. Do you believe that?”
I nod, though it’s hard not to worry. It’s been a hard few years for everyone when the war was at its height. I’ve had my suspicions about the press lying to us, since we’ve been told over and over on TV that the small attacks still taking place in the Ridge were nothing to worry about.
“Not very convincing. Come here,” he says, patting his leg as if he’s calling a pet onto his lap.
I rotate my body to face him, the warmth of his hand sliding off the back of my neck as he follows my movements with his eyes. I get up on wobbly feet and carefully lower myself on his thigh, his hand sliding up to my naked pussy, fingers just barely dipping into my folds.
“Oh,” I echo, as I watch his hand tease me.
A dark smile. “ Oh is right,” he says. “What’s your safe word?”
“P-Pink.”
“Good. I want to start training you today, angel.”
Train me? Train me for what?
He senses my confusion and he adds, “I want your pussy wet for me when you hear my footsteps come home or when you smell my cologne in an empty room of this house. I want you wet and needy even when you’re sleeping, so I can use your holes at any time I want. I want your body and mind to understand that I own you now. I mean that literally—in the real sense of the word. Unless, Dove, you want to break this off because it’s too much. I don’t want that, but I would completely understand—”
“No.” I shake my head, my breathing shallow and m y pussy throbbing with need. “It’s not too much. I want this—I want you . I’ll do whatever you want. Please, Rowan.”
“Angel,” he coos, caressing my pussy. “You have no idea what you’re agreeing to. But when you start realizing it, please just know that your safe word is always here to protect you. Do you understand?”
“I won’t need it,” I shoot back, spreading my legs ever so slightly.
“You will. Say it. Tell me you understand.”
“Yes,” I whimper when his hand stops moving, getting my attention back on his words. “Yes, I understand.”
“Good girl.” He groans, lifting himself up while he pushes my torso onto his desk, my bare ass now facing him. “I want you to climb up on this desk and spread your knees apart. Show me everything, angel. Show me everything that’s mine, so I can start taking it.”