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“You don’t own me, asshole, no one ever could. Not you. Not your fucking brothers. There isn’t enough money in the world to buy me,” she snarls, and I have a feeling she’s right. It’s more of a pretence now that she’s ours. We all know Roxxane is not a kept woman or a toy.
She’s a fucking wild card.
But she still does as she’s told, because even though she fights it, she wants us too. With a snarl, she rips off her shirt, baring herself to me. I let my eyes run across her exposed skin. Her full breasts are heaving in a see-through little lace number, her rosy nipples pointy and staring at me. Her belly is curved, and her waist is tucked in, perfect to grab onto and toned, with a shining jewel pierced through her navel, begging me to trace it with my tongue. Her thighs are rounded and delicious, and I can see them wrapped around my head as I tongue fuck her cunt. Her legs are long and lean, and I can’t wait to have them draped around my head either.
She is goddamn beautiful, so beautiful it hurts. All pale, silky tattooed skin, thick thighs, and attitude. A combination I didn’t know I would find irresistible, but my cock jerks hard as I store every detail of her body in my memory. Every dip, curve, and scar.
She parts her legs, head tilted back as I drink her in, unashamed in her own body. No, Roxxane owns it. She doesn’t strive to make it what she deems perfect, doesn’t go for plastic surgery or alterations like so many in our world. She’s comfortable and confident in her own skin, scars and all, and it’s sexy as hell. Not to mention the tattoos painted across her skin like the finest works of art.
That’s what she is. A work of art.
One I’m going to stare at for the rest of my life.
“What next, asshole? Want me to crawl to you as well?” she scoffs sarcastically.
Hiding my grin behind my hand, I rub my chin before dropping it to my lap. “Yes, actually.”
“Wait, what?” she squeaks, before clearing her throat. “I mean, what the fuck?”
Leaning forward, I narrow my eyes on her, warning her not to disobey me. “Crawl to me, love.” She sucks in a deep breath, debating whether or not to ignore me. Wondering what it will mean to do so, but she wants the pleasure I have to offer.
She wants me more than she hates me right now.
“Fuck,” she shouts as she sinks to her knees. “I hate you.” She tosses it at me like barbed wire. I just laugh, though, since she says it so often, it’s becoming an inside joke now. If she didn’t say it, I would start to get worried. It’s better than her…than her saying she loves us. She can’t do that, but this? Hate and desire? This we can do and survive.
She drops to her hands and, eyes defiant and hard, starts to crawl towards me. She doesn’t even mean for it to be sexy, she’s too angry for that, but the way her body sways, her tits full and almost tumbling from her bra, her arse swinging temptingly…fuck. It’s so goddamn sensual, I nearly burst in my trousers.
Having her at my mercy is addictive, seeing her on her knees before me a beautiful sight. She stops when she reaches me, chest heaving in anger and lust, then leans back on her heels before she grabs my thighs and digs her nails in, making me chuckle.
Even now, she fights, even when she knows it’s useless. I will have her. She will be screaming my name, those little claws slashing down my back as I fuck her for everyone to hear and see. Those men she befriended, the guards outside the door, listening to whom she belongs to.
“Take my cock out,” I order, hiding my shaking hands as I watch her.
She grinds her teeth but reaches up and unzips my trousers, the hiss loud as she finds me bare and hard underneath. She gasps, her lips parting temptingly, and those dark eyes drop to my cock hungrily as she wraps her hand around it and pumps me as she pulls me out. “Tut tut, behave, princess.”
I stifle my moan at the sight of my cock in her tiny pale hand, at this one little woman controlling me so easily with just one fucking touch.
She squeezes me, making me groan before I can catch it as a smirk curls her lips. “Where is the fun in that? You want to control my every action because it means you can distance yourself from it, well, fuck that. If I have to be your goddamn slave, you don’t get to act the aloof asshole. You want to fuck me? Then fuck me. None of these games, none of the defences to keep me away from you. Make it hurt, make it good, I don’t fucking care, but stop trying to be this cold motherfucker when I can see how badly you want this…want me.”
I still at that, how the—how did she know? I search those eyes because she’s smart and the same. Her bravery and toughness are an act to keep people away. To stop them from gaining control over her. To prevent them from hurting her. I see it in her gaze, she hurts them, pushes them away first so that they can never hurt her.
Not again.
“You want my control, my coldness, love. Because without it, you wouldn’t survive me,” I admit.
She tilts her head defiantly, squeezing my cock again and making me thrust up into her hand. “Try me,” she dares. I freeze at her words, staring into her eyes as she stares right back. She doesn’t know what she’s asking. What she would unleash.
“You have a death wish?” I smirk to cover my unease at how quickly she’s destroying my defences.
“Everyone dies, plus I could have died every minute of every day with you guys. But I haven’t. I’ve accepted it will happen, so try me, Ryder. Show me what you’re so scared of, what you don’t show anyone else, and if it kills me? So fucking what. No one will miss me.”
That’s a fucking lie, I would. I would miss her so much, it sends a pang through my icy heart. To never hear her laugh again, to never see her challenge me, defy me…no. I would miss her.
My brothers would. They would kill me if I hurt her.
I watch her for a moment, trying to hold back. But I can’t. Her touch, her words, it crushes my control. It tumbles all my carefully built walls until everything I hate surges forward. The pain, the anger, the fucking need to cause damage. To wreck everything. To destroy everything good and beautiful.
Like her. To consume and take. The traits from my father I try to fight, his very last gift. Making me exactly what I abhor.Him.
