Page 55 of House Rules
I don’t know where the bite of jealousy comes from, but a part of me is a little proud of the joke. Another part of me screams into my brain, telling me to shut the fuck up. These are not the kinds of men one taunts. They can break me, toss me into the ocean, and get away with it. Women aredisappearingafter sleeping with them, and no one seems to give a damn.
But…if they are going to kill me, or even just break me, why haven’t they done so yet? I can’t stop them from doing whatever it is they are going to do, anyway.
Atticus looks at me for a moment, blinking, then shakes his head and turns back to the minibar.
“Then you’re having what I’m having. A peach old-fashioned. The perfect whiskey drink for a true Georgian.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I say, having absolutely no idea if that sounds good or not. How am I supposed to know what’s in an old-fashioned, or if peach belongs in it? I have no idea.
Atticus hands me a glass, and I sniff delicately. It smells sweet and very strong, and my first sip burnsits way down my throat, giving me a soft, glowing warmth in my gut.
“Good?” Atticus asks as he takes a seat on the cushion directly behind mine and pulls me into his lap.
What the hell is going on with them tonight? They’re all so touchy-feely…
“Yeah, I actually really like this,” I say, and I feel Atticus nod behind me. “So, about earlier?—”
“I don’t want to talk about earlier. We will have to discuss that at some point, but not now. Not tonight. When we’re on this yacht, all the land bullshit stays on land. Do you understand that, kitten?”
“Yes, sir,” I say, nodding.
“Good girl,” he whispers in my ear. A wave of heat flushes through me, making my skin feel hot and tight.
“When’s the last time you looked up at the stars from somewhere with no artificial light?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever done that.”
“Well, that changes now.” Setting his drink aside, he does the same with mine and then pulls me backeven further so he and I are practically lying down. Tucking me into his side, he lifts a hand and begins to point out constellations in the sky. He tells me the stories of each one, like the hunter Orion. I listen, but I am not really paying attention. Everything about him is too distracting—the way his body is against mine, the way his hand trails up and down my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps.
The sound of his deep voice is soothing, and I can’t help feeling like I am on a date. They’re romancing me, from the massage from Con to the deep, personal conversation with Storm, and now Atticus is telling me about stars?
Something about this feels…off. I want to trust it. I want to believe that they really do just come out here to leave all the Titan bullshit behind, and I’m part of that, but how do I know it’s true and not just another one of their little games?
How do I know Atticus hasn’t already told everyone he caught me in his room and they’re actually here to dump my body?
I don’t know if they’re seducing me because they want me…or because they need to keep me tethered to their world. Either way, it’s working. And that scares me more than any blade ever could.
“I have to admit, you looked so unbelievably gorgeous earlier today in my room. I don’t think I’ve ever seen somebody take to being a pet so well. What if I told you there were other things that I wanted to do to you?” Atticus’s voice is low, and his fingers slide slowly over the skin of my outer arm.
“What kind of things?” I ask.
“All kinds. I want to play other games. Games that have you tied up to a cross, games that have you trying hard not to come while I play with your beautiful body. Games that let me give you so much pleasure and then mix it with pain.”
His hand moves around to my throat, and he squeezes just enough to control my breathing.
“I want to show you how far I can bend your body before you break. I want you begging for more at the same time you’re crying for mercy.”
My breath catches. My thighs squeeze together, aching for friction. I should pull away, say no, call this what it is. But I don’t. I want more. I want him to push me until I forget who I was before him.
His tight hold still lets me breathe, but he is proving that he can easily control what I was and wasn’t able to do.
I shouldn’t find that as alluring as I do. I want him to take me apart, because an instinctive part of me knows he will put me back together, making me better. Stronger.
“What if I told you that your mouth was the best thing that I have ever felt on my cock? That I want to see how much you can take? I want to chain you to my bed with your head hanging over the edge, all that beautiful hair spilling into a pile on the wood floor as I line my cock up with your mouth and fuck your throat. What if I told you that while I did that I wanted to play with your sweet, tight little cunt, licking and sucking your clit until your thighs are shaking so hard they’re making the entire bed tremble?”
Images flash in my mind, making my pussy clench around nothing. I need to be filled.
“Would you be a good girl for me?” he asks, his hands moving from my side to just under my breasts. I want him to touch me. I need him to touch me, or I swear I’m going to explode.
