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I wonder if he’ll speak. I want him to. I want to feel his voice rumble against my skin.
My heart is pounding up to my throat until I can’t take it anymore.
But he doesn’t speak, and I realize I’m going to have to provoke him.
“Did you enjoy the show?” I smirk and it’s malicious. More than I’ve ever been in my life.
He growls, low and threatening.
“You get your rocks off by following girls in the dark?” I taunt. “Do you like hiding in my closet and being my dirty little secret while I openly date other men?”
His hold on my throat tightens, dangerously painful, and I relish it.
Fuck, I must be out of my mind. His other hand slides between us, and my thighs spread wider for him as his warm fingers skim down my hip. It’s a strange contrast to be touched so forcefully around my throat but delicately against my pussy. One finger dips into my wetness, and my breath catches even harder. Those watchful eyes light up, eating up every emotion I give to him as he strokes me slow and hard with two fingers now.
He bends over me. He slides into his fingers me, curving his palm just right as he rocks into me again and again. So fucking close. A smirk kisses his lips. He leans into me then, his five o’clock shadow brushing across my flesh. I hold back my cries as the warmth of his breath teases my cheekbone and slides lower to the shell of my ear.
“Did hitting me make you feel better, Little Bird?”
His voice is as gravelly as I knew it would be. It rumbles against my chest, the vibration making my nipples tighten beneath my dress. Being close to him after knowing how far away he’s kept himself is a dangerously delicious feeling.
Faster he pumps his fingers into my wetness before whispering, dark and taunting, along my neck.
“You’re wild if you think that’ll deter me from taking what I want.” He pauses with a violent shine in the depths of his bright eyes. “And if you ever touch another man again, Atlas...” His tone isn’t taunting anymore. It’s terrifying. “I’ll fucking cut his cock off and leave it gift wrapped at your door like one of our special little presents.”
The way he claims me in that threat... I should be calling the police right now. I should be filling out an order for protection.
Instead, I’m nearly cumming on his hand.
I fight with renewed vigor, thrashing against his hold, but the harder I fight, the harder his hand squeezes, choking the energy out of me, pushing me towards an edge I never knew I wanted until it was given to me in this exact moment.
Balancing me on the precipice where life meets death makes my skin light on fire. The haze against my vision feels almost blissful. His lips are a menacing promise against my neck as they kiss, nip, bite. He drags his teeth across my flesh hard enough to bruise, almost as if he’s marking me the same way I marked him.
A gasp tears from my throat as I grind down against his palm. This is the edge of everything. My life feels like it’s teetering along the edge, and soon I’ll break into a thousand tiny blissful pieces.
So soon.
But then he takes all that bliss away from me. With intent, his whole body pulls back so he can look down and observe me as well as his handiwork. My neck pulses with pain, and my pussy pulses with desperate need. A noise slips from my lips, and I hate how pathetic it sounds.
His smirk is slow and taunting as he studies me in the darkness. He’s so fucking pleased with himself, it sends fury all through my core in place of the pleasure that was just there. There’s an air of triumph around him, and before I can blink, he’s holding my wrists in a punishing grip, forcing them over my head.
I wriggle beneath him, but every movement sends strikes of lightning through my core. He’s too strong. Too big. Too dominating.
Rowan has me pinned beneath him. My legs fall open around his waist, giving him better access to the most intimate parts of me. My chest heaves, and every exhale draws his heated attention to my breasts pressing tightly beneath my dress and against him.
My entire body tingles, desperate for something–
“Now, understand whenever you flirt with that asshole, he’ll be reminded of who you fucking belong to.” His free hand slides beneath the hem of my dress in a more forceful claim against my wetness. “And in case it wasn’t fucking clear? You belong to me, Little Bird.”
A gasp rips from my throat as my head falls back.
His fingers push inside me, and I scream, my pleasure quaking through my whole body. He enters so easily, teasing my wetness with hard strokes from rough, calloused fingers, curving and pistoning them in and out like he’s punishing me.
“Nod your pretty head for me, beautiful,” he commands on a voice like gravel.
And I obey.
I can’t speak as he teases me. My wrists jerk against his, but he’s huge, strong, and eventually, I feel too weak to fight back. Even if I want to. He’s drawing sounds from me I never knew I could make. Demanding my submission with a few flicks of his thumb against the most sensitive part of me as he thrusts in as deep as he can go.
