Page 9 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

Cast chuckles, leaning forward, and Vincent groans in my ear, “Stop moving on my lap, or I am going to make you ride me right here, right now.”

Damien growls, a smirk spreads on Vincent’s lips and I want to scream, because what Vincent just said should not be hot to me, butholy cheeseballsI am soaked right now. I know losing my virginity to one of the Chessmen feels almost inevitable, but losing my virginity in front of everyone in the senior class, two janitors and five lunch ladies, with tears streaming down my face as Vincent plowed into me, well fuck me, that sounds hot. And I know that is not supposed to be hot, but I want that.

A whimper escapes my lips, and I shift again.

“You like the idea of everyone’s eyes on you while Vincent takes your pretty little cherry.” Cast’s voice is so low, it almost sounds like a growl, and I look at him with wide eyes as I bite my bottom lip.

“Damien.” Vincent whispers almost pained, but Damien barks back sharply.

“No.”

His voice makes me bite my lip even harder, and Cast groans, “Didn’t Damien tell you to stop biting your lip?”

I nod my head yes, and Cast’s eyes shine with danger and want.

“Let’s add another punishment then.” He nods to Vincent.

I almost shoot up off of Vincent’s lap in protest, but he locks his arm around my waist, keeping me on his lap. “What? Why?” I protest.

“Because one of us gave you an order and you’re not listening, which means you want to be punished.” Cast says matter-of-factly. “Now, be a good pawn and feed your King.”

My king?I want to focus on that. I want to refuse, to stand up, to leave this mess behind, but something about the way his eyes darken, the way his hand wraps around the curve of my waist and pulls me in closer, makes me comply. Reluctantly, I pick up the chocolate cupcake off of Vincent's lunch tray and bring it to his lips.

The moment his lips brush against the cupcake, I feel the weight of his stare, like he’s marking me, claiming me for everyone to see. It’s possessive, domineering—and it makes my heart skip a beat. I hate how much it affects me, how my body responds to him in ways I can’t control. My neck burns with a flush, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. I am lost in the slow chew, and intense stare of Vincent. A part of me hates that it’s Sloppy Joe day. I want to feed him more, see the slow satisfaction crawl across his face even more.

As I finish feeding him the cupcake, I am dragged out of my little bubble of want and the weight of everyone’s eyes on us, their unspoken judgment filling the air. But when I finish feeding him, he smirks and wipes the corner of his mouth, looking at me like a predator about to claim his prey.

“Mmmm, delicious.” Vincent’s tongue darts out as he slowly licks the icing off of the tip of my finger.

“You're welcome,” I whisper, my voice feather light as I stare at his lips.

For a moment, everything feels still, and I can feel myself leaning forward to…kiss him. Oh my God, I am going to kiss Vincent Beaumont and from the look of his gaze, he is going to let me, but then the moment is shattered.

“You missed a spot,” Cast says matter-of-factly, his voice low and teasing as the heat from his gazes sears into me. Without warning, he smears the vanilla icing from the cupcake across Vincent’s face, leaving a trail of white that contrasts against his sharp features.

My stomach tightens as I stare at him. I don’t want to do it. I really don’t, but I know what he’s asking. I know what’s expected of me. “Cast!” I hiss, turning to look at him.

“Clean him up.” Cast demands, leaving no room for protest.

I lean over the table towards the napkins, but Cast just clicks his tongue no. I look at him with widened eyes. If I can’t use a napkin, how does he…no. He doesn’t expect me to…

“We don’t have all day, Willow.” Cast says, amusement tickles the edges of his voice, like he wants to see what I am going to do.

Slowly, I lean forward, my lips brushing the icing off of Vincent’s cheek, the taste of sugar lingering on my tongue. I feel his breath catch, his gaze darkening as I finish, but the bitterness in my chest only grows.

I pull away, wiping my mouth, trying to ignore the conflicted emotions rushing through me—disgust, humiliation, and… something elseI don’t want to acknowledge because the minute I say it— even in my mind— then I have to figure out why lickingthe icing off of Vincent’s face made me feel drunk and needy rather than disgust. I want to feel disgust.

I can feel Cast’s gaze on me, heavy and expectant. It’s like he's savoring my discomfort, his eyes glinting with something akin to amusement. He’s waiting for me to break, to crack, and for some reason, it feels like I already have. His silence speaks louder than words ever could, as if he knows exactly how deep he’s buried under my skin.

“Happy?” I manage to choke out, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat, my smile twitching at the corners in a way that screams everything’s falling apart, yet I’m trying to hold it together.

“Elated,” Cast replies, his voice thick with satisfaction. My heart skips in a way that feels dangerous, like I'm being dragged deeper into something I can't control.

I glance over at Vincent, who leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Good girl,” he whispers, his voice rough, pleased.

The words hit me like a slap to the face, my insides turning to mush. I hate how easily they slip under my skin, how easily they make me feel… small. It’s like something inside me snaps, and I can't stand it anymore. I force myself to stand up, my heart pounding in my chest, desperate to get away from the suffocating weight of their gazes.

“I need to go,” I mutter, my voice shaking.

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