Page 20 of The Dollhouse

“I don’t fucking care,” I hissed, shooting him a look that could kill. “I want her, so I’m taking her.” My stare returned to Zoey on the stage, watching as she stood straight, no longer rocking those hips or showing anything off. “By the end of tonight, she’ll realize it.”

When her dance was finished, she spun on those hideous sneakers and turned to where we were, about to walk off the stage but freezing the moment she spotted us. Zoey didn’t even take a moment to collect her money; why would she when she knew I’d be waiting for her?

“Bring her,” I demanded, and Carter obliged by grabbing her upper arm and practically dragging her into the backroom. The moment the door shut behind us, he had her moved to the couch, where she chose to sit indignantly.

I felt like pacing, but I refused to show her how her little dance had affected me. The only thing I’d show her right now was how angry I was.

Carter remained near the couch, which was probably why Zoey made no moves in getting up. She did, however, ask, “How did you like my dance?” Each and every word dripped acid, as if she was trying purposefully to rile me up.

And it was working. I wanted to take her by the throat and make her scream my name, make her beg me to stop, make her apologize for putting on that ridiculous show, all to spite me.

I decided to tell her the truth: “I fucking hated it.”

The corners of her lips quirked into a grin. “And why did you hate it?”

“Because,” I growled out, flexing my hands into fists at my sides—something which Zoey immediately noticed, and her cheeks flushed. “Like I said before, you’re mine.”

She lifted her head, holding her nose in the air as if she was better than me, better than Carter and any fool in the Dollhouse. And maybe she was, but I would show her just how easy it was to corrupt, and how much fun it could be. “You don’t own me, Roman Russo.”

I smirked, though it was more like a baring of my teeth than anything else. “Don’t I?”

The way she glared at me, I knew she wanted me to prove it, to show her, without a doubt, that I did indeed own her.

I took a step back, but I did not sit myself in my usual seat. Instead, I gestured to Carter. “Get her up. Hold her arms back.” Not once did I lose eye contact with Zoey as Carter forced her to her feet, pulled her to stand between us, and held both her arms behind her back, gripping her by the wrists.

Oh, I planned on showing her just how much she belonged to me.

Zoey struggled a bit, her tits shaking with her feistiness. I let my stare drop to her chest, and I refrained from drawing my hands all over her as I stepped closer, as near as I could be without touching her. Her breath was hot on my skin, and I knew she could feel when I exhaled, too.

“You,” I murmured, pausing, letting the lone word sink in as I locked eyes with her. Deep within their light azure depths, I could see the desire she tried so desperately to fight, to hide from me. “You are mine in every way, Zoey Marbella.”

With that, I lifted a hand, drawing the backs of my fingers along her cheek, taking in her soft skin. Her breathing hitched, and I knew without a doubt I had her. All I had to do was get her to admit it to herself, to say the words out loud:I belong to you.Once she said those words, we could move on from this.

My hand dropped to her collarbone, drawing along it before lightly dancing across the space between her tits. When my hand fell below the fabric that kept them covered, I hooked my fingers up, catching it and pulling its black cotton up and over her tits, exposing them to me. I placed my palm between them, my fingers extending, pressing hard against the curves of her breasts.

“The heart beating in your chest,” I hissed down at her, feeling it start to speed up under my touch, “is all mine.” Watching her try to fight what she felt inside, I couldn’t help but smirk. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you liked getting on that stage and putting on a show. I have no issues with you doing that—but only when it’s my stage, and only when I’m the audience.”

Behind Zoey, Carter glowered, but I kept him out of this. That man knew I’d never toss him aside. Wherever I was, he would be by my side, and that included any shows by Zoey herself. Carter might not feel the same way I did about her, but he would. He had to. I’d taught him too much for there to be such a difference between our bodily desires.

The hand between her tits moved down, over her flat stomach, over the bits of her tattoo that curled around her body, stopping only when I grazed the matching black underwear covering her ass and her cunt. I let my hand slip beneath it, my fingers curling against her body. The very second my fingers touched her clit, she sighed out a breath, her nipples hard for all to see. Carter kept a good hold of her; he would not let her go until I told him to.

Her eyes shut when I dipped lower, feeling the wetness seeping around her pussy.

“This,” I breathed out, using my other hand to cup the bottom of her jaw, forcing her to open those eyes and look upon me, “is mine.”

Zoey whimpered when I pressed a finger against her entrance, but I did not go in.

“The sooner you realize it, the more enjoyable it will be for you, I can imagine,” I said, starting to rub her between her legs, drawing some of her wetness up to her clit.

She could not speak, apparently, nor could she do much other than tremble in what I knew was pleasure of the highest degree. She did not struggle against Carter; Zoey simply stood there and took it, my hand between her legs at her apex, her tits exposed and heaving with uneven breaths.

Fuck, she really was something else, even with that ridiculous pink hair.

I watched her as I rubbed her, pinching her clit, circling it, applying pressure to it as I gauged her reactions to how I touched her, learning what she liked and what brought about the most trembling out of her. My fingers picked up speed, and I could feel her hips begin to rock along my hand—though I could tell she was doing her best to keep her body in check.

No. I wanted to see her let loose, to release the inner wildling inside and let her animal free. I knew it was in there, knew her inner beast waited impatiently to be let out, for its cage to be unlocked forever. I was more than happy to be the guiding force that helped let it free.

“Say it,” I whispered, feeling my own cock press against my pants as I rubbed her. How could I not get hard at touching this beautiful specimen? How could I not have an ache in my balls when I felt that slick wetness between her thighs, knowing it was all mine? “Tell me that you’re mine, and I’ll let you have your release.” My rubbing slowed right when she started to pant and rock her hips harder.

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