Page 108 of Possessive Ink

“No,” Atticus growls again.

“Atticus,” I growl right back.

Lifting his hand, he covers my mouth with it, silencing me with an angry scowl. “Are you done?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“You’ve had your say. Now I get to speak. Okay?”

Rolling my eyes, I nod.

“Thank you. Now, I’m going to start by saying we are getting married in two weeks. There’s no canceling or postponing. We’re getting married because I’ve waited long enough, and I won’t wait a minute longer. Now that we’ve clarified that, we can deal with all the other bullshit that just spewed out of that pretty mouth of yours.”

I try to talk, but with his hand still pressed firmly to my face, the only sound that comes out is a muffled mumble.

“It’s my turn to talk, Lemon, so you can either stay quiet, or I can go and get the gag from the toy cabinet. You might not like the look of it during sex, but if it’s the only way you’ll let me speak, I’m more than happy to force you to use it now.”

I feel my eyes go wide, and he must see it too.

“Can you stay silent on your own?” he asks.

Hoping he can see the anger in my eyes, I sharply nod once.

“Good. Now, I’m going to start at the end and work backward, because you just threw a lot at me. But first, the most important thing you need to hear is that I don’t give a fuck what you do for a job. I don’t care if you serve cakes or clean toilets. Hell, if you decide you want to come to work with me every day like Knight does with Octy, I’d be the happiest man alive. Leaving you while I sit at the studio for hours on end is the worst part of my day, and I practically skip around the moment I know I’m going to see you again.”

I try to speak, but he silences me with a single look.

“Lemon, the least interesting thing about you is your job. I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you, and I’ll love you until the last time we see each other before death. Then, if there is a heaven, I’ll find you there and love you for the rest of eternity.”

I suck in a sharp gasp, but his hand on my mouth stiffens before he starts to speak again.

“If you want to be a clothes designer, then that’s what I want you to be. If you decide you want to teach Pig Latin to underprivileged parrots, then that’s what I want you to do. If you decide your dream is to find the prettiest seashell in the world, then I’ll take you to every beach in every country until you find what you’re looking for. I don’t need you to be anything other than you. I don’t need you to do anything other than what makes you happy. Because you’re already everything I want and need. You’re already sexy and submissive and special and beautiful and caring and talented. I fell in love with you, Lemon, just as you are, because you’re perfect, and you’re mine, and we’re getting married in two weeks.”

Fresh tears fill my eyes, spilling out and slipping down my cheeks, but these aren’t tears of sadness. They’re happy tears. Curling my fingers around his, I slowly pry his hand away from my mouth. “I don’t have a dress. My dress won’t be ready in time. If I had a year, then maybe I could learn enough to be able to finish it, but not now,” I admit, my throat thick with emotion.

Shrugging, he wipes my tears away with his thumbs. “Then go and buy a fucking dress. I’d get married with us both naked. What you wear isn’t important.”

“You said you wanted me to wear a dress I made,” I whisper.

“Because I thought it would be something you wanted and something you’d enjoy. If it makes you sad, then forget it. Buy a dress, or wear something you already have. I don’t care, Princess, because the moment you’re officially mine, I’m going to be ripping it off you anyway.”

“Atticus.” I giggle.

“Go shopping with my sister or whoever you want to take. I’ll take you if that’s what you want.”

“You can’t take me to buy a wedding dress. It’s bad luck for you to see me in it before the wedding.”

“So who do you want to go shopping with? Let’s make some calls, and you can go dress shopping in the morning.”

“They’re here,” I tell Atticus, trying and failing to push his hands off my hips so I can leave.

“I hate these,” he whines, sliding his hands beneath the fabric of my panties.

“I can’t try on dresses without any underwear on,” I tell him again for the dozenth time, kissing him quickly, then wiggling my way out of his hold. “I have to go. They’re downstairs.”

“Do you have your card?” he asks.

“Yes,” I sigh.