Page 43 of The Colour of Revenge
12
I Own You
Hypothetical Question: If your life had a narrator, would they be on your side or roasting you the entire time?
Carina
Natejustgavemethe most earth-shattering orgasm of my life—and he hasn't even been inside me yet.
I'm ravenous for him. Aching. Desperate. Insatiable. The way he looked at me when our eyes met, just before I ended Robert's pathetic excuse for a life, sent me a shot of pure, liquid heat. Knowing Nate waswatchingme—watching me kill him?
God, it lit me up from the inside.
The adrenaline still courses through me, my thoughts tangled in the electric blur between thethrill of the killand the raw, animalistic hunger I feel for him. The media release is already out. It won't be long before the police start combing through Robert's properties.
Luckily, this place isn't in his name. It'll buy us time.
But therisk?
The chance that we could be caught—not just for killing Robert, but for fucking right here, in the aftermath of it all?
It only makes me want him more.
It's twisted, I know. But after the life I've lived, is it shocking that my desires don't fit neatly into the world's expectations? That my hunger is laced with blood, chaos, and fire?
And right now, they're all focused onhim.
I want Nate to break me down, to take me apart in a way no one ever has.
This isn't like the others—the ones who stole control from me, who forced their will on me. With Nate, it's different.
Iwantto give it to him. Freely. Willingly.
I want to be his in a way that terrifies and excites me. Because with Nate, surrendering isn'tlosing—it'swinning.
His mouth brushes against mine, his breath hot against my lips. "I want to fuck you so hard you feel me for weeks," he murmurs.
"Yes," I gasp. "Fuck,yes."
The thought of him inside me sends a fresh pulse of arousal straight to my core.
He pulls his fingers from me slowly, then—never breaking eye contact—sucks them into his mouth. His tongue sweeps over them, a wicked grin curling his lips as he licks me from his skin.
My breath stutters, my chest rising and falling in uneven gasps. His gaze is locked on me, on the way my breasts shift beneath my shirt with each inhale.
"I can't wait to see your pretty tits again," he murmurs, voice rough with need. "But right now? I need you too fucking badly."
He grips my leggings, yanking them down in one swift motion, along with the scrap of pink lace that’s supposed to be my underwear. The cool air rushes over my exposed skin, raising goosebumps. I step out of them, but my foot catches on the fabric.
A startled laugh bubbles up, but it dies in my throat at his next words.
"Turn around," Nate commands, his voice dark, rough, and absolute.
I do as he commands, turning to face the wall. The heat of his body presses against my back, scorching through our clothes, branding me.
“Hands on the wall.”
I obey without hesitation.
