Page 21 of His to Watch
thirteen
. . .
Tatianna
The main lights flicker once,twice, then burst into full brightness, making me wince after hours in the dim emergency glow. We're curled together on a leather bench in the African artifacts section, my body draped across Jerald's massive chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear. The sudden illumination feels like an intrusion—harsh reality flooding back after our night of shadows and secrets. I stiffen against him, something like panic fluttering in my chest. What happens now? In the forgiving darkness, becoming his "little girl," surrendering to his possession, letting him fill me repeatedly with promises of breeding me—it all felt right, necessary, perfect. But under these unforgiving fluorescents, will he see me differently? Will I seem pathetic, desperate, too easily claimed? Will he regret the things he said, the marks he left, the promises he made?
"Power's back," he states unnecessarily, his voice a rumble beneath my cheek.
I nod, not trusting my voice, suddenly self-conscious about my naked state beneath his uniform shirt, about the sticky evidence of our activities drying on my thighs. In the stark light,I can see the bruises forming on my wrists, my hips, the bite mark on my shoulder darkening to a vivid purple. Marks of his possession that seemed so right in the darkness now feel like evidence of something forbidden.
A distant mechanical hum fills the building—the climate control systems restarting, the security systems rebooting. The museum is waking up around us, shaking off the strange dream state of the lockdown.
"What time is it?" I ask, my voice small and uncertain.
Jerald checks his watch. "5:42. Staff starts arriving at 7:00."
Just over an hour before our private world is invaded. Before we have to face other people, explain ourselves, return to our separate lives. The thought makes my chest ache with a surprising intensity.
A series of loud clicks echo through the building—the security doors unlocking automatically as the system resets. The sound is like a clock striking midnight, breaking the spell, ending the enchantment. Freedom. Escape.
Terror.
"We should..." I begin, not knowing how to finish. Should what? Get dressed? Pretend this never happened? Go our separate ways? The thought makes me physically ill.
Jerald's arms tighten around me, as if sensing my panic. "Look at me," he commands, his voice dropping into that register that makes my body respond instantly.
I lift my head, meeting his eyes reluctantly, afraid of what I might see there—regret, embarrassment, a return to the professional distance he maintained for eight months.
What I find instead steals my breath. His gaze is just as intense, just as possessive as it has been all night. If anything, the bright lights have only made it more piercing, more absolute.
"You think anything's changed?" he asks, one large hand coming up to cup my cheek. "You think I'm letting you go just because the sun's coming up?"
Relief floods me so intensely my eyes burn with sudden tears. "I thought maybe…when the lights came on..."
“What did I tell you, honey? You were such a brave little girl for Daddy last night," he murmurs, thumb wiping away a tear that escapes. "So perfect. So mine. You think I'd give that up just because the power's back?"
His words wash over me like a balm, soothing the fear that had been building since the first flicker of the lights. I shake my head, leaning into his touch like a cat seeking affection.
"Come on," he says, sitting up and bringing me with him. "We need to get you cleaned up and dressed before anyone arrives."
He helps me stand on shaky legs, supporting me when I wince at the soreness between my thighs. His expression darkens with male pride at the evidence of his thorough claiming.
"My shirt's probably in the planetarium," I remember suddenly. "And my skirt is..."
"By the break room," he finishes with a small smile. "I'll get them. Wait here."
While he retrieves my clothes, I take stock of myself in the bright light. My hair is a tangled mess, my lips swollen from his kisses, my body marked in a dozen places with evidence of his possession. I should feel used, maybe even ashamed.
Instead, I feel…claimed. Treasured. Seen.
Jerald returns with my clothing and helps me dress with surprising tenderness, his large hands gentle as he buttons my blouse, smooths my skirt. When I'm fully clothed again, looking somewhat presentable despite the obvious signs of our nighttogether, he takes my hand and leads me toward the museum entrance.
The main lobby stretches before us, empty and silent, early morning light just beginning to filter through the high windows. In an hour, this space will be filled with staff preparing for the day, but for now, it remains our private domain.
"One more thing before we leave," Jerald says, pulling me to a stop in the center of the massive marble floor.
Before I can question him, his mouth is on mine, claiming me again with a kiss so thorough it makes my knees buckle. His arms wrap around me, lifting me against his chest, my feet dangling above the floor as he devours my mouth with possessive hunger.
