Page 55 of One Rule

I want to corrupt her.

Own her in the same animalistic way she has me collared and prostrated me at her feet.

She’s my goddess and her temple is my home.

“My sinful little rebel. Always so unafraid.” My voice is low, and gravely, yet it doesn’t carry over the sound of multiple shower-heads hitting her body and the black-marbled walls. That, and I’m partially hidden within the low lighting and the mist of fog billowing and overtaking every inch of our personal playground, the latter of which she isn’t aware.

Just as I know she wants this, too.

Two floors below ours and with a privately coded entrance; I built this luxury gym with her in mind. From a yoga room to every machine inside and then the large steam room she’s visited once—the shower my Liliana is using to hide from me knowing I’d check her apartment first.

I did this for her. For our future enjoyment.

And no one has a key but us, something she hasn’t picked up on yet, and it’s been worth every penny. Every time she uses her keycard, I get the alert. Every room inside has a sensor that will always tell me exactly where she hides.

I will be her masseuse. I will fuck her into submission.

You were born to be mine, rebel. Made from my rib and created to choke on my cock.

Shifting, Liliana stretches her neck from side to side while arching her back and the sight has my cock throbbing. Painfully so as I follow her every inhale as she shifts, highlighting the perky slope of each breast and the toned flesh of her abdomen. To me, it feels like a taunt. A silent dare as she reaches a dainty hand toward the wall where an always-filled shower gel dispenser sits.

Two pumps and she brings the soap toward the water, letting its scent fill the room. This earns a hum of pleasure from the both of us, the blend I’d commissioned to compliment her scent of cupcake decadence mixes exquisitely and I like the addition of strawberries and spun sugar.

It’s a hint of tartness with her sweet cream.Sofucking good, and to watch those small hands gather more and then rub together before spreading across her chest is the definition of heaven to me. They rub and squeeze, fingers sliding across each pebbled nipple until both are hard—goosebumps rising across her skin before they skim lower.

Down her abdomen and hips, from right to left, before stopping just over her mound. Then, she gyrates a bit, the move so fucking sexy, and I can’t stop myself from releasing my cock and stepping out of the bloodied pants, I never changed out of. They pool at my bare feet before I kick the fabric aside and take a step closer, then another, stroking my length lazily as I take in every second of the show before me.

How my girl rolls her voluptuous hips again.

How her lips part, a sinful gasp escaping.

My hips buck in time with her movements, my breathing accelerating as a growl builds inside my chest. One I bite back.Not yet.

Liliana opens her eyes a few seconds later and looks over at the bench to her left. This open shower is wall-to-wall and curves at the center with dual benches big enough to lie down on—get on all fours—on either side if you so desire. I designed the space myself, picked every single material used, and my one personal demand is I wanted it to be wide.

So she can stretch. Spread for me.

But motherfuck, the reality is so much better than my fantasies.

Rebel lifts one sinuous leg and places her foot flat against the dark marble, opening herself up for me. My eyes don’t leave her curves, gliding across her satin skin, and then settle on the rosy bare flesh of her cunt with a single thin line of neatly trimmed hair just above her clit.

Pink and soft and mine, her pussy’s dripping and I bet every cent I have to my name that it’s not all soapy water. Not with the ease in which two fingers sink lower and the smile tugging at her mouth is proof of that.

She enjoyed watching me kill Jeremy even if she doesn’t understand why. I saw it back there, too.

Her lips curve and it’s one that reminds me of the first time I kissed her. She wore the same cheeky grin that day. So devious yet innocent; a combination that makes no sense and no one but her could pull off.

“You’ll be the death of me, Micah.” It’s a whisper full of need, a calling out to me, and I respond with that low growl inside my chest I can no longer fight back. She doesn’t hear it at first, nor does she see me, but the sudden tight grip of my hand on her hips causes her to freeze.

I’m behind her and pressed tight, my cock nestles against the lower of her back while I hard shiver rushes through her small frame. She’s as affected by me as I am by her, and when I trail my hands up her ribcage and cup a supple tit in each palm—she moans.

Low and throaty and the sound settles on the head of my cock, causing it to pulse. It jerks against her, pre-come slipping from the slit and onto her skin. I rub it against her. Marking her.

“You’re mine, Liliana. Always have been.” It’s a guttural growl against her temple, my lips leaving gentle kisses between each word, a complete contrast to how I squeeze her breast. Weighing and jiggling before tweaking each pebbled tip, an action that gifts me another of those delicious sounds. “I will honor, cherish, and fuck you like the precious treasure you are. My slut. My world. Mine.”

“Jesus, Micah. I’m—”

“Loved beyond all measure, baby.” With the tip of two fingers from my right hand, I slap each nipple and the top of her breast. Each strike is sharp, leaving just enough of a sting that she shakes in my hold, but doesn’t pull away. Instead, she presses herself closer after lowering her foot from the bench. Those beautiful light brown eyes meet mine through the thickening fog as she seeks my lips, turning her face toward me while rising onto the tips of her toes.

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