Owning Violet

by Monica Murphy

  Fuck. I still can’t believe I did that.

  “Thank you.” She steps closer and sniffs. Her nose wrinkles. “You smell like perfume.”

  Shit. Pilar douses herself with the strongest stuff possible and it’s obnoxious as hell.

  Violet moves even closer to me and presses her nose to the front of my shirt. “You’ve been with another woman,” she says dully, starting to back away. I reach out and grab her arms but she jerks out of my hold, her expression fierce. “Don’t touch me. God, you’re just like him, aren’t you? You fuck other women and then come over here believing you can charm your way into my panties? He warned me you were like this.”

  I should have changed clothes. I’m such an idiot. But hell, my time with Pilar had happened so fast. I got her off on my fucking knee, for Christ’s sake. No clothing was removed. She just happened to get her scent all over me when she rode me like a cat in heat. “Who warned you?”

  “Zachary. He said you and Pilar together planned something against us both. You smell just like her. You’ve been with her.” Her face almost crumples, but then she gets ahold of herself and her expression goes smooth. Blank. I recognize that look. I’ve used it plenty of times myself. “You fucked her, didn’t you.”

  “No. Fuck no.” Jealousy fills me. I hate that motherfucker Lawrence. “And when did you see Zachary?” I can’t believe I just said his pussy-ass name.

  “It doesn’t matter.” She goes to the door and opens it, turning to look at me. Her face may be blank but her eyes are full of fire, and all of it is directed at me. “Get out.”

  “Violet.” I lower my voice. Hell, I’ll beg her if I have to. “Let me explain.” I have no explanation. I’m flying by the seat of my pants here and I don’t know what to say to placate her.

  “There’s nothing to explain. I’ve been played left and right for the last few years. For most of my life, really.” She laughs, but it’s the saddest sound I’ve ever heard. My fucking heart—which I thought was made of steel and impenetrable—starts to crack the slightest bit in sympathy for her.

  No, not sympathy. I don’t feel sorry for her. She’s hurting and it makes me hurt, too. I want to take on her pain so she doesn’t have to feel it.

  “I’m not playing you.” I pull her fingers off the handle and push the door shut, grabbing both of her hands so I can interlace our fingers together. I need the connection. Need to feel her and remind her that what we’re experiencing is real. What Pilar and I have is born of selfishness. It’s ugly and unpleasant, just like most of my life. For once, I want something good and clean and pure. I want Violet. “Not in the way that you think.”

  She stares up at me, those big brown eyes unblinking. Damn it, she looks like she wants to believe me and I’m tempted to tell her she shouldn’t. She should run. Get away from me as fast as she can. I’m like a disease that will eat at her welcoming heart until it’s completely destroyed. And I won’t feel an ounce of remorse for stealing it.

  Because I want it. I want her heart. I want her soul. I want her body. I want all of her. Fuck Pilar. Fuck her stupid plans. I deserve one last night.

  One last night where I can drown my black soul in the sweetness that is Violet Fowler.

  Letting go of her hands, I reach up and cup her face, tilt her head back so her lips are a perfect offering, just for me. “I want you,” I whisper. “That’s all I know right now, that I fucking want you.”

  She grabs hold of my wrists, her slender fingers wrapped tight around my flesh. As if I’m her anchor and she’s scared to let go. I want to tell her she’s safe with me, but it would be a lie. I have no idea how this is all going to turn out. I’m a selfish asshole for wanting this, wanting her.

  But I can’t be stopped. I won’t be.

  “Tell me the truth.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “Were you with Pilar?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, hating the hurt I see race across her face. “Not like you think, though.”

  “Did you … fuck her?” She tenses and closes her eyes, as if prepared for the blow, her fingers clinging to my wrists.

  It still startles me to hear her say the word fuck. “No.”

  Those gorgeous eyes pop open and she releases her hold on me, dropping her arms at her sides. “Tell me the truth,” she demands.

  “I am.”

  “You didn’t fuck her.”

  “No.”

  “But you messed around with her.”

  “She used me.” I pause. “And I let her.”

  “Why?”

  I don’t have an answer.

  “You’ll hurt me,” she continues, her voice clear and true. “I know you will. This won’t end well.”

  I can’t talk about endings or beginnings or any of that shit. All I can focus on is the here and now. With her. “Tonight I just want to make you feel good.” And that’s the truth. The only bit of truth I can offer her. “Let me, Violet.”

  She closes her eyes tightly, her thick, dark eyelashes smashed together, and I swear I see a hint of wetness there. I can’t take it if she cries. The only one responsible for her tears will be me and I can’t face that. “I just want to forget,” she murmurs.

  “Forget what?” I bend my head and press my lips to her temple, slide them down to her cheek as I push my hands into her silky hair. Her skin is soft and fragrant and I feel the tremor that runs through her. I want to ease her pain. I want to bring her pleasure. I want to put my mouth on her pussy and make her come with my tongue. I want to watch her wrap those pretty lips around my cock and feel her suck me deep.

  I want it all. And I don’t deserve any of it.

  “Everything. My life. Professionally everything’s great. But personally, I’m kind of a mess.” She parts her lips on a startled sigh when I offer a lingering kiss to the side of her mouth. “I hate that I’m jealous over the fact that you smell like Pilar. I don’t own you. I have no right to feel this way.”

  “I’ll take off my clothes,” I suggest, and the faintest smile curves her lips, urging me on. “Don’t worry about Pilar,” I reassure her. “She can’t hurt you.”

  Liar.

  Not really, because I’m the one who’s going to hurt her. And if I don’t, Pilar will hurt me.

  Violet cracks her eyes open, staring at me. “I’m more worried about you. What you’re doing to me.”

  Again, she’s proving just how smart she is. She should be worried about me. I will wreck her, there’s no doubt about that. “What am I doing to you now?” I tuck a wavy strand of dark brown hair behind her ear, then trace the delicate shell. I want to spend hours touching her. Kissing her. This is my last chance, and I plan on savoring every little stolen moment.

  “You make me feel … too much.” She turns her head the slightest bit, our lips in alignment, but I don’t kiss her. And she doesn’t kiss me. It’s as if we’re both prolonging the anticipation. “It scares me.”

  “You scare me too,” I whisper before I press my mouth to hers in a chaste kiss. Her lips move beneath mine and I kiss her again. And again. Sweet, sensual kisses, our lips parting with every pass, my tongue darting out to lick at her upper lip before she pulls away.

  I stare at her, my heart accelerating, my lips tingling. I don’t kiss other women like that. All soft and loving and shit. Not my style.

  But with Violet, I … want to be soft. And, Christ help me, loving.

  Fuck. I’m in way too deep.

  “I need you naked,” she says, her hands shoving at the hem of my shirt so it rises halfway up my stomach. “I can’t … you need to get your clothes off.”

  I understand why she’s doing this. I smell like Pilar’s perfume and she doesn’t like it. I can’t blame her. Stepping out of her reach, I tear off my shirt and kick off my shoes at the same time before I undo my jeans, shoving them off my hips along with my underwear so everything ends up in a heap beside me. I hold my arms out to my sides, like an offering to her, and all I can hope is that she’ll take me.

  That she’ll
want me.

  “This is me,” I say solemnly. “This is who I am.”

  Her gaze drifts all over me, landing on my tattoos, my piercings, then lower, until she’s staring at my erect cock. “Who are you really?” she asks as her eyes meet mine once more.

  “I’m … just a man. A man who fucks up, who makes mistakes and sometimes doesn’t think. I’m reckless. I’m arrogant. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. I grew up fast and didn’t have a real childhood.” I pause, not sure how much more I should say. I don’t want to scare her before I get my one last chance. “I … don’t know how to love.”

  She blinks, her gaze never leaving mine. “What do you mean?”

  “I didn’t have a mother. I don’t know who she is. My dad treated me like I was nothing but a burden.” And when I grew older, I turned into his drinking and let’s-troll-for-hot-chicks buddy. It wasn’t a healthy relationship, and that’s an understatement. “I’ve never had a real relationship.”

  “What about Pilar?”

  “It’s complicated. Hard to define.” Our relationship confuses everyone, including me.

  “What about me?” she asks quietly.

  “What about you?”

  “Do you want me?”

  “Yes.” I fucking burn for her.

  She pulls her sweater up and over her head, revealing she’s wearing no bra. She strips her leggings off and she’s not wearing any panties, either. In a matter of seconds Violet is as naked and vulnerable as I am, and I have never seen her look more beautiful.

  “Then you can have me,” she whispers.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Violet

  I’m giving myself to Ryder like some sort of offering and he takes it without hesitation, coming for me with a fierce determination I find both terrifying and exciting. He grabs hold of me and sweeps me into his arms like I don’t weigh a thing, pausing at the beginning of the short hall that leads to my bedroom.

  “Last door on the left,” I tell him, linking my hands around the back of his neck. I press my cheek against his chest, feel the thundering of his heart. It beats as fast as mine and the sound reassures me. Fills me with hope that maybe something more could come of this after all.

  But deep down inside, I know the truth. We’re not meant to be. Not forever. This is temporary, what Ryder and I share. Like a meteor shooting across the sky, bright and hot and thrilling to watch, until it fizzles and burns into nothing.

  We enter my bedroom and he looks around, still clutching me close. The windows are open, the gauzy white curtains billowing out with the breeze. There’s a candle burning on the bedside table that I lit right before he knocked on my door, and the bedcovers are rumpled since I was too lazy to make the bed when I woke up this morning.

  Carefully he sets me on my feet, my body sliding along his the entire way down. His skin is so hot, his body so hard. I keep my hands around his neck and press my lips to the center of his chest, absorbing the sound of his heart, wondering if it’s as dark and broken as he believes. If given the chance, I would work my hardest to heal him. To make him whole.

  But I’m pretty sure my chance is already gone.

  “Violet.” He sifts his fingers through my hair as I run my lips across his chest. I love it when he says my name. I love it more when he touches me. Excitement spirals through me when my lips meet metal and I tongue his nipple ring, teasing it lightly before I draw it into my mouth and suck.

  “Jesus,” he groans, his fingers going tight in my hair as he holds me to him. I move to his other nipple and tease it with gentle flicks of my tongue, sucking the thin metal ring into my mouth. He pulls my hair, the pain mixing with the pleasure, and I moan, confused by my reaction, by the surge of wetness that floods my sex.

  I release his nipple and he grabs me by the waist, pushing me back onto the center of the bed. He follows me down, his big, hot body covering mine completely. He braces his hands on either side of my head and deliberately flexes his hips against mine so I can feel his hard cock rest against my belly, the tip warm and damp. My entire body flutters in anticipation of feeling him move inside me.

  “Thank you,” he whispers, his gaze dark as it sweeps over my chest. My nipples harden almost painfully and I desperately want his mouth on them.

  “For what?” I ask, confused.

  “For letting me touch you. For letting me have you tonight.” He kisses me, another sweet, sexy kiss. His tongue dances with mine and I push my hands into his hair, clutching him close.

  “You don’t have to thank me,” I murmur when he breaks away from my lips to rain kisses along my neck. “You didn’t have to ask for permission, either. You already own me.”

  He lifts his head to look at me, his expression full of pain. “Don’t say that.”

  I blink at him in surprise. “But it’s true.”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “You don’t want me to own you. You don’t know me. Not really.”

  “I want to know you better,” I admit. “And I know you won’t hurt me.”

  Breathing deep, his chest brushes against mine and he closes his eyes. “I can’t make that promise.”

  I reach up and cup his cheek, his stubble prickling my palm. He turns his head and kisses my hand, his lips branding me, and I want to feel them everywhere. Branding me. Making me his. “I don’t care,” I whisper. “You don’t scare me.”

  “I should.” He moves down my body, kissing me everywhere just as I wished for a moment ago. My shoulders, my collarbone, my breasts; he sucks first one nipple deep into his mouth, then the other, biting it so hard I cry out. “I’ll hurt you. Again and again. I don’t know how to do it any other way,” he murmurs against my skin.

  I can’t answer him. I don’t know how to answer him. Whatever’s happening between us isn’t normal. It isn’t right. It can’t be.

  But I don’t want him to stop.

  He kisses a fiery path across my belly, his hands spreading my thighs wide just before his mouth lands on my wet center. He fucks me with his tongue, with his fingers, lapping at my clit, sucking it between his lips, nibbling, biting hard until I scream, coming with an intensity that I’ve never experienced before.

  My body is still convulsing when he moves away from me and slips on a condom before he thrusts deep. So hard he shoves me up the mattress, my head bumping against the headboard with his first powerful push.

  “Does it hurt?” he asks with a grunt, his hips slapping against mine, his movements relentless as he fucks me.

  I shake my head, my body trembling, fear rising within me when I see the dark look on his face. I won’t let him frighten me. “N-no.”

  “It should.” He reaches beneath me and grabs my butt, his hands squeezing my cheeks so hard I cry out. I can feel every one of his fingers drive into my flesh and I know he’s marking me. “That has to hurt, right?”

  “No.” What is he doing? Is he trying to purposely harm me? Is this some sort of sick reasoning on his part so he can drive me away?

  Ryder lifts me, bring my lower body closer to his so his cock slides deep. So deep I swear he’s touching my womb, the very deepest, darkest part of me, where no other man has ever been before. He thrusts again. And again. Brutally fucking me, taking me, yes, even … making me hurt.

  But I won’t give up. The pleasure overrides the pain and I cling to him, my legs wrapped tight around his hips, my arms circling around his shoulders. He can’t get rid of me that quick.

  I won’t let him.

  “Tell me to stop,” he commands as he shoves his cock inside of me, his hands still gripping my ass, his thrusts shallow, then deeper. “Tell me, Violet.”

  “No.” I kiss his neck, lick him, suck his flesh, and finally give in to the urge.

  I sink my teeth into his skin, so hard I hear him gasp in surprise, and then he’s pulling away from me, withdrawing from my body and flipping me around so I’m on all fours, my ass to him as he slides his cock inside me from behind.

  “You think you can
hurt me?” he asks, his tone mocking, his balls slapping against my sex with his every vicious thrust. He’s trying to break me down and I refuse to let him. I won’t run away from him no matter how hard he tries to make me.

  “Yes,” I hiss in answer because I truly believe I’m hurting him already. Why else would he act this way?

  He grips my hips with his big hands and pulls me onto his cock; back and forth I ride him. He doesn’t move, just slides me along his thick, pulsing length, the friction and the heat sparking another orgasm deep within me, one that makes me come apart with a guttural groan as it ripples through my body, my inner walls milking his cock in a rhythmic motion that has him moaning along with me.

  “Fuck, you’re hot,” he whispers, his hands moving to grab at my ass and spread me wide. “Watching your tight pussy take my cock makes me wanna come.”

  “Do it,” I urge him, savoring the words he says to me. I want to feel him lose control. He’s been in command this entire time. Trying to push me, hurt me, make me hate him. But I fought back every step of the way.

  I refuse to back down.

  “No.” He slaps my ass so hard it stings and I buck against him, crying out. I hadn’t expected that. “You’re not in control of this, Violet. I am.”

  What the hell is happening to me? He’s being so rough, so horrible, and I … I love it. I want more. I want him to break me. I want him to bring me pain and pleasure and every sensation in between.

  And when he lifts me up to my knees, his hand wrapped around my throat, his mouth at my ear whispering the filthiest things I’ve ever heard, I almost come for the third time just at the sound of his voice.

  “You enjoy me fucking you like an animal, don’t you?” he asks, his voice low and dark. So dark, like his fucked-up heart and lost soul.

  “I like fucking you,” I tell him, my breath stalling in my throat when his fingers tighten. He wields all the control, his cock buried inside me, his teeth nibbling my earlobe, his fingers pressing into my neck, against my windpipe. I tell myself not to panic. He won’t hurt me. He would never hurt me. He’s just angry … but not at me. I know it’s not at me.