Page 68 of Possession

I tuck my cock away, zip and button my pants. Lucas is hovering at my side now, hanging onto my waistband. It soothes a little more of my anger, but I’m still confused. By his actions. By my own too.

This is the first time I’ve felt … jealous.

My possession of Lucas has always been in a sort of vacuum. Any threats were external. I’ve never even thought about him wanting something—someone—other than me. The idea enraged me.

And yet … I feel like I’m missing something. I feel like, maybe, I’ve misunderstood.

Movement catches my eye. It catches Lucas’s too, and we both look across the kitchen to where Quinn, with his back to us, is leaning down, forearms on the counter. He’s breathing hard, clearly trying to calm down.

Lucas looks up at me with a small, satisfied smile. “That wasn’t very nice,” he tells me.

I huff. “As long as he gets it now.”

Quinn grumbles, head still down, “It’s not like I didn’t get it before.”

I give Lucas a warning look. “As long asyouget it now.”

A mischievous look comes into Lucas’s eyes. His fingers continue to play along my waistband. “I don’t know. You might have to teach me that lesson again.”

I maneuver him until his back is against the counter. Planting my hands on either side of him, I cage him there. I lean down until my face is inches from his.

I ask in a low, threatening voice, “Is that what you wanted, to make me jealous?”

Lucas’s lips part. His blue eyes are still dark from arousal. “If I say yes, will you fuck me again?”

“Jesus Christ,” Quinn mutters from across the kitchen. Without looking at us, he turns and walks quickly toward the doorway. His cock is visibly hard in his pants, but I’ve made my point with him, so I let him go.

I return my attention to Lucas. “Tell me the truth. Were you in here with him to make me jealous, or because you wanted him?”

Now Lucas looks annoyed. “Neither. I was in here to make cookies. Other people live in this house, Roman. I’m going to interact with them. Please don’t make them afraid to interact with me. Unless I’m your prisoner?”

I scowl at him, not liking that. “You’re not my prisoner, but youaremine. You need to understand that.”

Lucas tilts his head, offering me his throat, showing me that he does understand. I lower my face to his neck, where I nibble and suck. But while I’m marking him, his hand curls around the back of my neck, holding me there, letting me know that while he belongs to me, I belong to him too.

TWENTY-FOUR

Lucas

Roman has settled a lot since he claimed me so primally—and publicly—in the kitchen. I’ve settled too.

I don’t think I even realized until then how unsettled we both had been. Our relationship began in isolation. That, combined with Roman’s silence, meant it was shaped from the most base, primal, deepest aspects of ourselves. Despite how awful the circumstances were, I love that fact. Everything that shaped us was the barest, most real truth.

But it’s been scary to take that out of isolation into a more complicated world.

It’s harder for Roman than for me, obviously. Though Iseeit—on his scarred body, in his eyes, in his reactions and his frequent reversions to silence—I cannot truly imagine the depth of his trauma.

Sometimes I worry that he needs help I can’t give him. I think Vitali worries about it too. But I also know that attempted help would not help Roman right now. Maybe someday, when he’s ready, but right now I think he just needs time. And me. Vitali too but mostly me, and nothing has ever made me happier than the way Roman needs me. Wants me. Claims me.

I didn’t realize, until he fucked me in the kitchen, how much he’d been trying to keep our relationship like it was in the beginning. I didn’t quite understand that. Maybe he didn’t either.

That moment solidified something between us—his desire, and mine. It doesn’t have to be kept in isolation to survive.

I don’t think I realized, until that moment, that I, too, was worried about it. I let myself focus on my push for freedom, but hidden in that was fear. And maybe a subconscious test.

Roman has been leaving the house more and more, leaving me behind. I rarely know what he’s doing. I worry about something happening to him, but I also worry about him realizing that I don’t fit with his life anymore. His return always reassures me, but I just get worried again the next time. Like I said, though, it’s been subconscious. I didn’t perceive that in myself until Roman fucked me so possessively in the kitchen, in front of someone.

I’m not even embarrassed about it. I have never felt so secure and sure of my place in my life.

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