Page 34 of Yield to Me

Chapter 19

The fog over Fisherman’s Wharf was as thick as our minds were with desire. The desire to be with each other, to feel each other, to yield to every impulse we had. I couldn’t believe he had invited me somewhere so public. In the weeks that followed our agreement, we had stuck to late night adventures in seedy and upper tier restaurants, drives along the coast, and once, even a night at the strip club, where Owen had reserved a room for the two of us without bringing in another dancer; he wanted me. To be in public with Owen during daylight hours seemed surreal, but I didn’t question it.

We wandered into shops: a novelty cat and dog art store, a magic shop, a gourmet spice and tea store. Outside of the carousel, Owen handed me a small box and gestured to the coffee shop behind us.

“Open it in the restroom,” he said. I nodded, slipping the box into my purse. Owen stood in line for the cashier. The smell of freshly ground coffee reminded me of work, but I didn’t mind. I waited for the current occupant to exit the bathroom, and then I locked the door behind me.

Inside, there was a small white gold choker with a teardrop diamond in the middle. I put it on and admired my neck in the mirror; it made my neck look slender and graceful, the tendons barely tightening, reminding me of a swan. I wondered what he meant by it since he knew I hated gestures like this, but somehow I knew he had a specific meaning for it, something seductive. Hungry desire swelled inside of me, jolting my nervous system. No one had ever captivated my attention like this before, and sometimes, the hold he had on me scared me, even more so when he did indulge in his controlling tendencies. Like giving me a gift he knew I wouldn’t normally accept, as if to prove something to me. I decided not to think about it.

I found Owen waiting against the wall, talking to a salt and pepper haired man. I hesitated before approaching them, not wanting to out Owen in front of someone unexpectedly. I stood next to him.

“This is Riley,” Owen said, putting his arm around my back. Owen handed me an iced coffee. The man shook my hand, introduced himself.

“I’ll leave you two to it. See you in a week,” the man said. Owen nodded and shook his hand before he walked away.

“Another business associate?” I asked.

Owen nodded. “An important one,” he said. “Come on.” He took my hand, leading me out of the door.

We walked down the pier, sipping our drinks, passing people leaning over the railing, watching the waves and fishermen casting their lines. A few teenagers goofed around in front of us, taking pictures of each other and laughing. The bark of the sea lions echoed around us. Each of the unlit lamp posts reminded me of scarecrows in the fog.

At the end of the dock, Owen leaned on the rail, and I followed suit. It was quiet. The swaying of the boats, mostly empty, bobbing up and down in the water was soothing. Owen pulled me closer to him, his arm around my back. His hands traveled up, following my curves through my jacket, then landing on my neck, ever so gently. His glassy eyes lingered on the choker, and I knew he liked the way it looked on me. I reached up and touched his hand, squeezing it slightly.

“That looks perfect on you,” he said.

“You know I usually hate stuff like—”

“But it’s not just for you, Riley. It’s a reminder that you’re mine.”

I blushed. “As if I would ever forget that,” I murmured.

He smiled. “It’s so others know too.”

A rolling sensation filled my stomach. I was about to comment on how the choker was basically a collar and how I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, and how it seemed like this was a boundary we were crossing, when his phone vibrated. He pulled it out of his pocket, glanced at the screen. Poppy blinked in white letters. He silenced the vibration but didn’t outright reject the call. I wasn’t the type to normally ask such an intrusive question, but I knew Owen usually gave his contacts full names, sometimes even their business in parentheses beneath it. This was different. She was different. “Who’s Poppy?” I asked.

“No one,” he said. He pushed me against the rail, and I leaned back, knowing the ocean was beneath me. He parted the opening in my jacket and slipped his hand up my shirt. It made me completely forget whatever it was I was asking.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. The smirk on his face showed how much he was enjoying this. His cold fingers on my warm breasts made me shiver; I could feel my nipples hardening, becoming increasingly sensitive.

“Nothing,” I said.

“Oh,” he said. And that’s when he started unbuttoning and unzipping my pants, his cold fingers like icicles inside of my panties. He massaged my clit slowly, in a circular rhythmic movement, and I moaned, faintly audible under the sounds of the water crashing beneath the dock. We were at the end of the boardwalk, far away from others, but we could still get caught. Even though it was cold outside, heat crawled up to my face. I pressed the iced coffee cup to my cheek.

“You’re doing this here?” I said.

“I thought it was nothing?”

That smirk was still wide across his face. I shook my head. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He pulled my body around so that he was leaning back on the railing, making me face him. Each of his legs were on the outside of mine. He locked eyes with me.

“You’re mine,” he said. He pulled my hips in closer, then tickled my neck with his mouth, the white gold strand dangling along my skin. “Say it.”

One hand held my neck, the other traveled down into my panties again. I shuddered as he started licking my skin. I could feel the moisture pooling on my lower lips. “I’m yours.”

He touched the back of my neck gently, pulling his fingers through my hair. “It symbolizes what you said.” His eyes were stuck on my lips as he said it. If it were anyone else, I would usually wonder if there was something in my teeth, my mind wandering away from the person in front of me, but with Owen, I couldn’t think about anything else. All I could think about were Owen’s lips, the freckle that beckoned me closer, one of our forbidden acts that made it all the more enticing. Suddenly, he gripped the back of my hair, pulled my head back, his mouth against my ear.

“I may not be able to kiss you or fuck you, Riley, but I still own you.” The pressure increased, and he rubbed my clit, gently kneading it. I was glad his coat covered his hands from onlookers, but I wasn’t shy enough to stop him. His control over my body consumed me, made me desperately want to please him, for the look on his face that would tell me that there was nowhere in the world he’d rather be than caressing me on that dock. His mouth slipped down my neck, tickling me, tormenting me. “Rules like this usually keep me away,” he said, “but I want you too much to let you go.”

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