Owning Violet

by Monica Murphy

  But I can’t stand the thought of Violet not liking the tattoos or the piercings. She’s as elegant as they come. You look up class in the dictionary and you’d probably see a photo of Violet.

  If you looked up trash in the dictionary, you’d probably find a photo of sixteen-year-old sullen-as-hell me.

  “I’ve never seen so much colorful work up close before.” She lifts her gaze to mine, her finger gently tugging on one of my nipple rings. “Does that … hurt?”

  “It hurt when I got it.” Like a motherfucker, though I gritted my teeth and acted like it was no big deal.

  “Does it hurt when I pull on it now?” She tugs a little harder, the tip of her finger brushing my nipple.

  “It feels good,” I whisper just before I kiss her, moaning against her lips when she curls her finger around the ring and pulls. Again. A shock wave of sensation streams through me, straight to my dick, but I keep our kiss languid, searching her mouth with my tongue as if we have all the time in the world, which we do.

  And I’m going to savor every fucking second of this night with Violet. Make it good for her.

  Make it good for me.

  “Later,” she murmurs against my lips when I break the kiss, “I’m going to ask for an explanation behind every single tattoo you have.”

  “And I’ll give you one.” I kiss her again, my tongue circling hers, teeth nipping at her lower lip. “Much later. But first …”

  “But first,” she agrees, laughing against my lips just before I take hers again in a consuming kiss that goes hot and deep in an instant.

  She grinds against me and I slip my hand in between us to find her wet and so fucking ready. I slip a finger deep inside her and pump. Once. Twice. Leaning back so I can watch her. She drops her head back against the door, her eyes closed, her mouth slack. I press her clit and she sinks her teeth into her lower lip, lifting her hips against me, trying to deepen the contact.

  “You’re getting my jeans wet,” I tell her. She’s beyond primed, grinding her pussy on my fly, rubbing against my dick like some sort of horny teenager.

  I fucking love it.

  “Take them off, then,” she whispers and I don’t hesitate, tearing at the button fly so that the denim sags around my hips.

  She opens her eyes, her gaze dropping to my lower body and warming with approval. “You’re not wearing any underwear.”

  “Neither are you.” I reach inside the back pocket of my jeans and grab a condom, then shove them so they fall to my feet. I’m so eager to get inside her I don’t bother undressing completely. I’m fucking her here. Now. I didn’t want to do it like this our first time, but fuck it.

  I want her too damn bad.

  Violet reaches for the condom wrapper and tears it open, withdrawing the little ring. I watch with fascination as her sure fingers place it at the tip of my dick and she rolls the condom on, her fingers stroking, making my cock twitch. She wraps her hand tightly around my erection and strokes, her gaze lifting to meet mine, and I kiss her again. Devour her.

  “Later,” she says when she breaks away from my seeking mouth, repeating what she said only a few moments ago, “I’m going to suck your cock until you come down my throat.”

  Jesus. I never thought I’d hear Violet Fowler say that.

  “Yeah?” I smash my hips to hers the moment her hand falls away from my cock and I wrap my fingers around the base, guiding it toward her body’s entrance. “Later I plan on tasting that sweet pussy again and making you come on my tongue.”

  “Promise?” she says, a little moan escaping her when I push just the tip of my cock inside her tight, wet heat.

  “Fuck yeah,” I mutter, breathing deep, trying to control myself so I don’t just slam inside of her and take her like I’m some sort of overbearing grunt.

  I bet Lawrence did that to her. Probably didn’t care about her orgasm, probably didn’t think about her pleasure. Jealousy tears at me, making me see red, and I slowly push inside, ready to erase her memory of every single time that asshole had his dick inside of her. Until all she can remember, all she can think about, is me.

  Me.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Violet

  He’s huge and filling me so completely, I have to take a deep breath and release it slowly for my body to accommodate his thick length. I wrap my arms tight around his neck and press my mouth against his smooth, hard shoulder. Kissing him there. Sinking my teeth into his flesh until I hear him hiss out a harsh breath in response.

  I’m completely surrounded by Ryder. He’s wrapped all around me, inside me, his mouth at my forehead, his cock throbbing within my body. Cautiously, he starts to move, pulling almost all the way out before he pushes back inside, and I close my eyes, savoring the pleasure of him filling me.

  “Feels amazing. Fucking you,” he murmurs against my forehead before he slips his fingers beneath my chin and tilts my face up so I have to look at him. “Tell me, Violet. Tell me what you feel.”

  “Good. You’re so big,” I say obediently, loving when he commands me. Sex with Zachary was nothing like this. Nothing. Sex with the other men I’ve been with was nothing like this either. I feel like Ryder casts me under some sort of magical spell where I have no choice but to do as he says.

  I’m starting to realize there’s nothing wrong with letting a man control me sexually, as long as I demand my satisfaction in return.

  “So quiet and proper at the office,” he says, his deep voice sending goose bumps scattering all over my skin. I lift away from him, pressing my back against the door, and he touches my throat with his fingers, lightly at first, and then with more pressure. As if he’s holding me captive. Fear flutters in my belly as my gaze meets his and I see the lust there. The heat. All of it aimed directly at me. “And such a wicked little tease when you’re alone with me.”

  Should I be insulted by his words? Somehow … I’m not. They send a fresh wave of arousal through me, and my inner walls contract around his cock. “Only for you,” I whisper.

  His eyes flare with an unknown emotion and he leans in, his mouth close to mine, his fingers still locked around my throat. His cock fills me so completely, his hips pressed to mine. We’re chest to chest, my legs around his hips, ankles digging into his firm backside. “Really?”

  I nod, unsure of how he wants me to respond, what would please him. A shaky breath escapes me and he releases his grip on my throat, his fingers drifting across my sensitive skin, teasing at the spot where my pulse beats rapidly. “No one else,” I say, my voice firm, my gaze direct, “makes me feel like you do.”

  He goes completely still, his eyes hard, his normally full mouth firming into a thin line. He slips his hand around my nape and kisses me, his tongue brutal as he tangles it with mine, his body mimicking the movements of his mouth.

  This isn’t what I would call gentle lovemaking. Far from it. He fucks me brutally, thrusting into me again and again, so hard my body knocks against the door with his every push. He goes deep. Deeper. I watch with fascination as he takes me, his every muscle strained, his eyes sliding closed, a low grunt leaving him with every twitch of his hips.

  I run my hands down his sweat-dampened, thick-muscled chest, absorbing those beautiful, fascinating tattoos. The revelation of his body surprised me. Pleased me. And the nipple rings …

  They intrigue me.

  Smoothing my palms over his pecs, I curl my index fingers into each hoop and pull, causing his eyes to fly open. He stares at me, presses his mouth to mine in a simple kiss before he whispers against my lips, “Harder.”

  I do as he says, pulling the rings harder, bending toward him so I can run my mouth down the length of his taut neck. He reaches between us and circles my clitoris, making me cry out, the double sensations of him filling my body and playing with my clit driving me wild.

  “Ryder.” I gasp out his name as he shoves himself deep. I pull at the rings, open my mouth against his neck, and succumb to the orgasm that comes barreling down upon me. I shake
in his arms, my mouth still on his neck, my legs quaking around his hips. He thrusts hard and stills, my name falling from his lips as his own climax completely overtakes him.

  We stand there, our bodies connected, my back against the door, for long, quiet moments as our breathing evens out and the shudders slowly leave our bodies. My heart races and I take deep, calming breaths. Clinging to him, our sweat-covered bodies sticky, his still hard cock inside my body, pulsing deep within me.

  “Are you …” He clears his throat and I lift away from him. “Are you okay?”

  I nod and smile, reaching up to smooth his damp hair away from his forehead. The swarm of conflicting emotions that washes over me makes me want to be tender with him. Why, I’m not sure. “That was …”

  “Yeah.” He withdraws from me and I disentangle myself from him, wondering at his quiet mood. With care he settles me on my feet, then withdraws quickly, his gaze not meeting mine. As if he can’t look at me. “Where’s a bathroom?”

  I give him directions and he makes his escape, leaving me a jittery mess still leaning against the door. I don’t know what to do. Since I answered the door naked, I have no clothes to pick up and throw back on as armor. And with the sudden odd way he’s behaving, I’m feeling the need for protection. Should I just go back to my bedroom and tell him to meet me there?

  Before I can make a decision, he’s back and I figure he disposed of the condom. I admire his perfect masculine body and all the tattoos, drinking him in, imagining all the many ways I could kiss him everywhere. Touch him …

  Instead I watch in mild horror as he keeps his gaze averted while he grabs his jeans and tugs them back on, then offers me a tight smile. His expression is bland, the cool, mysterious Ryder McKay back in place of the savage, aggressive man who just fucked me senseless with my name falling from his lips only moments ago.

  “I, uh, I need to go.” He dips down and grabs his shirt and pulls it over his head, all of the colorful artwork disappearing from view. He rakes his fingers through his messy hair, trying to tame it, but there’s no use.

  There’s no use for him. There’s no use for us. I don’t know how it happened, but I feel the distance grow between us with every second that passes. He’s shut himself down completely and I have no idea who or what I’m dealing with.

  Blinking, I stare at him as if he’s sprouted two heads, because that’s how it feels. “You have to go?”

  He gives me a look, one that says stupid, overconfident Violet. “You thought I would spend the night with you?”

  I straighten, insulted at his tone and his words. “Of course not. I just figured it’s still early …”

  “I need to go.” He offers no explanation and I know I don’t deserve one, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want one.

  I step away from the door as he goes to it, resting his hand on the handle. Slowly he turns to look at me and for a brief moment, I see a flash of regret in his gaze. As if he doesn’t want to leave me but he’s making himself do it for whatever reason.

  I cling to that hint of emotion I see. Probably too tightly, but I can’t help myself.

  “Have a good weekend,” he murmurs, before he opens the door and exits my apartment.

  Irritated, I go to the door and wrench the lock into place with a sharp twist of my wrist, letting forth an irritated sound. What the hell was that? He fucks me against the door, makes me come so hard, and then leaves? After all this talk of plenty of condoms and what we’re going to do to each other later?

  The disappointment that settles over me can’t be helped. I feel like I lost this battle. A battle I didn’t even realize I was engaged in.

  Doesn’t mean I’ve lost the war, though.

  “Men.” Lily twirls her straw in her Bloody Mary before taking a sip. “I hate them.”

  I can’t stand Bloody Marys because I hate tomato juice, so I can hardly look at my sister as she drinks it. “I agree,” I say, lifting my Bellini in agreement before I down it.

  We’re at Sunday brunch but it’s past noon, so I don’t know if that’s what you call it. Rose is supposed to meet us, but she’s running late. Lily looks hung over, and she claims the only cure is a Bloody Mary. I beg to differ but don’t protest.

  Last night I opened my laptop and tried to do a search on Alan Brown, but that first glimpse of his sneering face sitting at the defense table during his trial made me immediately shut the computer with a sharp snap, chills racing over my skin. I haven’t thought of him in so long that seeing him again takes me right back.

  I can’t even mention any of this to my sisters. I don’t want to upset them. Bad enough how upset I am.

  “Still mourning the loss of Zachary?” Lily makes a face.

  Will I sound like a complete slut if I admit to my sister that I screwed another man only days after breaking up with my long-term boyfriend? And that his seeming rejection after the hottest sex of my life hurts far worse than my breakup with Zachary? My life has turned into a freaking soap opera. I feel like I’m completely unraveling and no one will be able to put me back together.

  Save, possibly, for Ryder McKay.

  Yeah. I sound like a total slut, wanting a man I barely know, who fucks me until I can’t see straight, then leaves with barely a word. But I’d do it all over again in a second.

  Seriously. What is wrong with me?

  “It’s not Zachary,” I admit, catching Lily’s wholehearted attention. “I … I messed around with another guy Friday night and it ended badly.”

  “What? As in you didn’t have an orgasm? Be glad you got rid of him.” Lily waves a hand, dismissing him.

  “Oh, I had one.” My cheeks heat. I don’t talk about orgasms with my sisters. I didn’t talk about them with anyone until I met Ryder. “But he got weird on me and left.”

  “One-night stand?” Lily shakes her head and makes a tsking noise. “Welcome to my world.”

  I knew I shouldn’t have talked about Ryder with her. She wouldn’t understand. I don’t understand either, so how can I expect her to?

  “Work has been stressful too,” I say, gladly changing the subject. “Putting together the packaging for my makeup line has been taking up all of my time.”

  “Right. Seeing that sexy guy who’s heading the project up is such a hardship,” Lily says casually, smiling at the waiter as he brings us the shrimp appetizer she ordered.

  And we’ve somehow circled back to Ryder. “He’s all right,” I say with a shrug, not wanting to give myself away.

  “He’s more than all right—I think Violet’s doing him.” Rose appears at our table out of nowhere, wearing a giant grin that I want to smear right off her face. She settles into the chair next to mine and nudges my shoulder with hers. “Tell me you’re having a torrid affair with Ryder McKay. Let me live through you.”

  “Wait a minute.” Lily gapes at me. “Is he the guy you were referring to?”

  My cheeks feel like they’re on fire. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I mumble.

  “We’re definitely talking about it. You just got a lot more interesting,” Lily says, reminding me yet again that I’m the boring, dutiful sister while she’s the wild child constantly in trouble.

  “Supposedly Ryder and Zachary are fighting over her,” Rose says gleefully. “And at the collaboration party a few nights ago, they messed around in a closet and Zachary caught them. She told me so herself.”

  Lily reaches across the tiny table and shoves at my shoulder. I flinch away from her with a muttered “ow,” rubbing at my arm. I had no idea she’s so strong. “Are you freaking serious? I was there with you that night! And you were out getting busy in a closet with some hot guy? Sounds more like something I’d do, not you, Violet.”

  If I could evaporate into a misty cloud right this minute I would do so, I’m so embarrassed. “It was nothing.” Those three words are becoming my standard answer for what’s happening between Ryder and me. Especially after Friday night. Talk about nothing. He dismissed me as if I didn’t mat
ter.

  So why did that moment against the door feel like everything?

  My phone sounds from within my purse and I reach for it, pulling it out to check for messages, new emails, whatever. Anything to change the direction of our conversation. But Rose is still chattering on about how hot Ryder is and Lily is eating up every word she says with rapt fascination. I think I’ve shocked them.

  I know I’ve shocked myself, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

  What surprises me even more? That I have a text from the very man my sisters are talking about.

  I’m an asshole.

  He’s certainly correct about that.

  Yes, I type. You definitely are.

  I hit send and wait for his answer, which is immediate.

  I hate what happened Friday night.

  Regret sinks in my stomach like a stone.

  I shouldn’t have left you like that.

  And just like that, a glimmer of hope fills me.

  No regrets. We’re just using each other, remember?

  The words look a lot harsher than they sounded a few days ago.

  “Who are you texting?” Lily asks.

  “No one important,” I mumble, cupping my hands around my phone so Rose can’t see. Not that she cares. She’s too busy chattering on about Ryder.

  It doesn’t feel like that anymore. At least to me.

  I stare at his words, dumbfounded. How do I reply without having it thrown back in my face? I say or do the wrong thing and he runs. Look at how he reacted after we had sex! He acted like being with me was the absolute last thing he wanted to do. I finally respond.

  I don’t know what it feels like. All I know is that I’m confused.

  Confused about what?

  You. And me.

  What are you doing right now?

  Having lunch with my sisters.

  I want to see you.

  Now?

  Yeah. I need to make up for what I did to you.