Chapter 30 #2
“That’s where you’re wrong. I do own you, Luna. And you need to come to terms with that.”
“Fuck you.”
His hand wraps around my throat again.
“You just did. And you will again before I leave here tonight. But we need to have a talk before I let you have my cock again.”
“I don’t want your cock. I want you to leave and never come back.”
“It’s amusing how you think you have a choice in this. Now tell me, are you attracted to him because his name is Wolfe and it makes you think of me?”
I flinch, and my throat tightens. His question scrapes against a raw place inside me, where conflicting desires for two men collide.
My mind drags me back to Damien’s introduction, his fingers sliding against mine, my pulse skipping, my skin warming at the contact.
The way my breath stuttered when he’d leaned in to ask me to dinner, and how I stared at the curve of his mouth, desire unfurling in my stomach.
Much like my body’s reaction to the man standing in front of me.
My nipples harden as he watches me, waiting for an answer. “That has nothing to do with it.”
His jaw locks beneath the bottom of the mask. “So you admit you’re attracted to him.”
“I didn’t say that, but even if I am, it’s none of your business.” My spine straightens, defiance flaring to life again. “You have no right to dictate my life.”
The corners of his mouth curve upward—not a smile, something sharper. Predatory. Heat floods his gaze, the kind that comes before sex or violence or both.
My stomach drops, and I realize my mistake too late. He feeds on my rebellion, and I just gave him exactly what he wanted. The realization should make me backpedal, choose softer words, and defuse whatever I just ignited. Instead, my chin lifts higher. He wants a fight? Fine. I’ll give him one.
“You will not go to dinner with him.” His voice is harder now.
“Excuse me?”
Who the hell does he think he is?
“You will not go to dinner with him,” he repeats, and there’s no mistaking it for anything but a command. “You’re mine. No one else touches what’s mine.”
“I’m not some possession with your name stamped on it. I make my own decisions. Just because I let you have my body doesn’t mean you own me.”
If he’s going to repeat himself, so am I, but even as the words leave my mouth, my heartbeat betrays me, hammering against my ribs. I’m lying to both of us. He does own me. Has since that first night. In ways I refuse to admit. In ways that both terrify and electrify me.
“Yes, it does, Luna.”
“No.” His fingers flex against my throat, each heartbeat throbbing against his palm. “I don’t even know your name. You won’t show me your face. What makes you think I’m going to let you tell me who I see or what I do?”
He reaches behind me, seizing my bound wrists.
Pain shoots up my spine as he pulls, forcing my back into a sharp arch, my breasts thrust forward.
The muscles between my shoulder blades shriek in protest, still aching from being restrained for hours last night as he ravaged me in a whirlwind of ecstasy and pain.
My back hits cold plaster. His six-foot-six frame dwarfs my five-foot-five body, his shoulders blocking the light, casting me in shadow.
His breath warms my forehead while my eyes only reach his upper chest, a reminder of how he towers over me that sends butterflies scattering through my stomach despite everything.
“You betrayed me, Luna.” The words slice the air, but underneath them I catch something raw, hurt bleeding through the anger. Even so, it’s no excuse for the way he’s treating me.
“I didn’t betray you. We’re nothing. All you want is to rut me like an animal.”
“I am an animal.”
“Yes, you are.”
“You’re mine, Luna.” His voice drops to that rough growl that makes my core clench, my walls crumbling brick by brick.
“Say it.”
“No.” I refuse, but conviction has fled my voice. My body surrenders to his dominance, craving everything he promises.
His hand abandons my throat and fists in my hair, tight enough to draw a gasp from my lips. He cranks my head back, baring my neck as my pulse hammers beneath the surface.
“Say it.” His mouth hovers above that frantic beating, his breath against my skin—warm, threatening, and promising.
“I won’t.” But even as the words leave my mouth, I’m melting into him, my body betraying every word.
He drags his mouth along my throat, and electricity races across my skin. It’s not enough. It’s nowhere close to enough.
“Your body knows the truth. Even if your mind is still fighting it.”
His hand slides down my side, fingers digging into my hip. The thin silk might as well be nothing. His palm burns through the fabric like he’s touching bare skin.
This is madness. This whole twisted dance is insane, and I’m letting my body’s hunger override every rational thought.
“Kiss me.” The plea breaks from my lips. Every wall I’ve tried to build crumbles. I need his mouth. Need to know what he tastes like.
He pulls back, denying me what I’m begging for.
“I told you, no kissing.”
“What’s so terrible about kissing me?” Frustration bleeds through every word. “Why do you keep hiding behind that damned mask? And why won’t you just tell me who the hell you are?”
He presses his thumb against my bottom lip hard enough to make my mouth part. The touch is possessive and claiming, and it makes me want to bite him and beg him all at once.
“All you need to know is that you belong to me.”
I close my eyes, the war between my sanity and my need tearing me apart. I want to keep some piece of myself untouchable, some part of myself that he can’t claim, but the hunger in me is stronger than my pride.
“Why are you so jealous of Damien?” I ask instead. “What is he to you?”
He goes rigid, every muscle turning to stone. “You’re going to call him and cancel.”
I hesitate. Agreeing would betray everything I am.
“I already told him yes. I can’t cancel without a reason.”
The silence stretches between us, heavy with his displeasure. His anger builds like storm pressure, filling every corner of the room.
“Find one,” he says, as if it’s that simple. “Because if you go, I’ll know. And I won’t be pleased.”
“Do you want to know where you can shove your displeasure?”
The threat makes me furious, heat blazing through every cell of my body as desire and defiance tangle into something that makes the world tilt.
“You can’t just appear in my life, refuse to tell me who you are, claim me as yours, and then punish me for trying to have a normal life.”
“There’s nothing normal about what’s between us, Luna.”
His fingers release my hair, leaving a rush of pins and needles across my scalp.
The metallic rasp of his zipper cuts through my shallow breathing.
His palms slide rough and hot against my skin, hoisting me up until my back presses flat against the cool wall.
The denim of his jeans scratches against my inner thighs as he lifts me and positions himself.
Then he’s inside me. My body yields to him, and a sharp intake of breath escapes me, catching in my throat before dissolving into a moan. My ankles cross behind him, my heels digging into his ass, pulling him closer, deeper, betraying everything my mind protests.
“There’s nothing normal about what you need. About what I give you.” A brutal thrust of his hips punctuates each word, pressing my bound hands into the wall.
God help me, he’s right. These raw, twisted emotions I have for this man are consuming and dangerous. Everything a rational person would run from and report to the police.
But I haven’t.
And I despise myself for it.