Page 58 of Possessive Ink

“This collection is moving much faster than his others have, so I’d start ordering stone now, because I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already working with clay in the next few days,” I tell Marcus.

“I thought the blocks we transported with us might work, but if not, I’ll try to get some idea of how big he needs,” Marcus says, his expression hardening into the ultra-focused workaholic he was when he first took the job as Felix’s PA.

“Let me know if you need me,” I tell him.

Instead of speaking, he nods, already tapping at his screen before bringing his cell to his ear.

“Let’s go,” I tell Lemon, leading her out of the warehouse and into the bright morning sunlight.

TEN

LEMON

The warm sun heats my skin the moment we step outside, a soft breeze ruffling the skirt of my dress and reminding me that I’m not wearing any panties. I’m used to being braless in this dress. The open back makes it impossible to wear even the most innovatively designed straps, but having no bra and no panties is a brand-new experience for me.

The sense of exposure I feel is both disquieting and kind of…invigorating at the same time. I don’t like feeling exposed, but I’m still enjoying the strange feeling of being naked, because Atticus asked me to be.

He asked me to try this, and I said I would, assuming I’d hate it and could tell him how awful it’d been. But after only a few steps outside of his home, I’m already a little turned on by the naughty nature of being in public without any panties.

Is this why women do it? I’d always assumed the only reason a woman would choose not to wear panties was because she physically couldn’t wear them beneath a particular outfit or because every pair she owned was dirty. I’d honestly never considered that a woman would choose to go out with nothing beneath her clothes because it made her feel…sexy.

When we reach his car, he opens the door for me, then lifts me inside, grabbing a handful of my bare and slightly sore ass as he places me on the passenger seat.

“Can you still feel my handprint on your ass?” he asks with a quiet smirk.

I try really hard not to blush, but heat infuses my cheeks before I can stop it. “Atticus.”

“Imagine how it’d feel if I spanked you properly. Your skin would be pink and warm for hours. You’d feel my possession every time you moved.”

I really, really should not like that thought, but I do. What the hell is this man doing to me? Why, since bumping into him, do I feel like I’m becoming a completely different person? I feel bolder, braver, and yet somehow so much more inexperienced than I did before.

Maybe it’s because Atticus isn’t like the other men I’ve been with. He’s intense and controlled and consuming. Since the first time his scorching palm landed on my back, I’ve done things I’ve never dreamed of doing before.

I’ve knelt at his feet. I’ve been naked in his living room. I’ve let him do…things to my butt. And now I’m pantyless with his handprints on my ass cheeks, thinking about how much I’d like him to enact the filthy picture he painted for me this morning.

Sucking in an affirming breath, I try to banish the vision from my mind, but instead, I feel almost sucked into it, like the thoughts are stronger than my resolve to ignore them. The fantasy plays out like a movie in my mind. From the outside looking in, I watch him hold my hand and guide me to lie over his lap, my head and chest hanging over one leg, while my legs dangle over the other, my ass positioned in his lap, an offering at his mercy.

In my mind, I watch him pick up the wooden hairbrush and rub it lovingly over my skin, then I swear I feel the deep-seated thud of pain as he lifts it and brings it down heavily on my butt. I can practically taste the imagined surge of lust that ricochets through me as the wood collides with my skin.

His palm on my ass this morning was a sharp sting that bloomed into a heat. I thought I’d hate it. I thought I’d recoil from the pain…but I didn’t. Instead, those two light spanks and the burn of heat that followed them lit a fire inside of me I’ve never felt before.

Am I a freak? Who wants to be spanked? What type of person gets turned on by the idea of being hurt just so they can feel the residual heat for hours afterward? Before this morning, definitely not me. But now… Now, I think I want it. I think I’d like it—no, I think I’d love it—and that’s almost as scary as the idea that the only person I’d want to touch me that way is him.

What on earth have I gotten myself into?

From the very first moment we met, I knew that he was more intense than most men I’ve dated in the past. But the necklace he fastened around my neck and the way both he and his brother are acting like I’m one of the family now is insane.

In the past, I’d consider having a sleepover with a man before I’ve known him a month as already moving too fast in comparison with any encounter I’ve had before. But somehow, I think I’ve agreed to stay with Atticus all weekend, and right now my clothes are hanging beside his in the closet, like they belong there.

Last night when Felix talked about me moving in, it didn’t feel like he was teasing me. In fact, he talked like me living with them was the next obvious step. He behaved like me giving up my own place so I could move in and live with a man I barely know was a foregone conclusion, not a ridiculous notion.

“We’re here,” Atticus says, pulling me from my busy mind and back to the present.

“Sorry, I’m a little distracted,” I admit.

“Given how pink your cheeks have gone, I’d love to know exactly what you’re thinking,” Atticus teases, climbing out of the car and coming to open my door.

Lifting me out of my seat with his hands on my ass, he smirks at me as he closes the car door and captures my hand, leading me across the parking lot to a restaurant I’ve heard lots about but never eaten in.