Page 28 of Owning Him
Why do they sound like church bells? Why does this feel so right?
He isn't being gentle at all. His hand is leaving burning red marks on my skin. But the suffocating distance between us is entirely gone. He isn't two steps behind me in a hallway anymore, or sitting on the opposite end of a couch leaving a foot of empty space between us. He is acting out because the absolute thought of losing me drives him insane.
And I love that.
A broken moan slips past my lips. I can feel myself growing slick. But the moment that sound leaves my mouth, Viktor seems to snap awake.
His palm vanishes. The sudden absence of his touch leaves me feeling strangely cold and exposed. I slowly tilt my head back, blinking through the haze of my own arousal.
Viktor is staring down at his own open right hand. His face is entirely bloodless, his expression one of absolute horror and disgust.
Fuck.
I know exactly what is flashing through his mind right now. The red-hot fog of his protective fury has cleared, and all he sees is a monster. He thinks he’s no better than the violent animals from his past.
He scrambles backward, nearly throwing me off his lap as he lunges to his feet. He backs away from the couch, his hands raised in front of him as if he’s trying to keep himself from touching anything else.
"I am sorry," he mumbles. "Valentina... I am sorry. I do not know what I was thinking. I lost my mind. I am a beast. I will pack my things. Please... please forgive me, Valentina. I am so sorry."
The panic in his eyes is eating him whole. I can’t let him shut down, pack his bags, and walk out into the night believing he’s a monster. To the rest of the world, he might be a terrifying brute, but to me, he is absolutely perfect.
I reach for the satin tie of my robe, pulling it loose to let the silk pool onto the floor. I am left standing before him in nothing but my thong.
Despite myself, standing entirely bare before a man like him makes me feel incredibly small. What if he doesn't find me sexy? What if my body bores him after everything he's seen?
Viktor’s eyes darken to something scorching, his gaze crawling from my small breasts to my hips, then down my bare legs. His pupils dilate until his eyes look almost entirely black.
"Fuck," he groans. He clenches his fists, tearing his eyes away toward the ceiling. "Fuck... you cannot do this to me, Valentina. Please. I am trying to apologize to you. I am trying to be a man of honor..."
I close the distance between us, stopping just inches from his chest.
"Viktor," I say softly. "Look at me. There is nothing to apologize for."
"No, I put my hands on you in anger," he insists as he tries to step back, but I follow him. "I crossed a line."
All my life, I’ve been running myself ragged trying to control every variable, trying to handle the world alone. But sitting on his lap, feeling him overpower my stubbornness... I didn't feel abused. I felt looked after.
"Maybe I wanted you to cross it," I whisper, stepping so close that his skin presses against mine. "You handle the threats. You make sure I eat. You vet every person who steps onto this floor to make sure I'm safe. The thought of me getting hurt drives you insane."
He swallows hard. "I chose that to be my purpose in life."
"It’s even more than that," I murmur, letting my hand hover just over his racing heart. "You were acting like you're in charge of me."
He traps his lower lip between his teeth. I can tell he likes the sound of it, but his guilt is still fighting for control. "Valentina, I am trying to be good."
"You're better than good. When you were spanking me, I wasn't thinking about a contract, Viktor. All I could think was... daddy is finally putting me in my place."
Daddy?
Where the hell is the daddy talk coming from? I’m shocking even myself. I’ve always been so plain, so completely vanilla. I feel like a devil has possessed me. What if I'm just twisting his protective instincts to get what I want? What if, despite everything, I’m still just taking advantage of him?
But I literally can’t stop. It feels too right to call him my daddy.
Goddamn it. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. It’s like a filthy sex demon has possessed me.
If I were to analyze myself, I'd say it comes from the fact that I've spent years fending for myself. Yes, I had money. I had connections. My father didn't leave me struggling when he died—he made sure I was comfortable.
But beyond the millions, I had no one.
