Owned: Chapter 11

I have her again.

She’s here, next to me in this car. Her scent fills my nose, and her breathing fills my ears. I can’t stop looking, can’t stop touching.

She’s become everything to me.

An addiction and a distraction all in one.

I almost got myself killed because I wanted her so badly … But some things are worth dying for.

If only I’d seen it before.

The car pulls up to my mansion, which was deemed safe again after my guards thoroughly checked the area and secured it. I doubt Molly and Frank would dare to attack us when they’re still recovering.

I climb out first and hold the door open for Harper with a hand held out to help her to her feet.

She looks up at me from inside the car. Her eyes are filled with emotions that don’t have a name. Like she can’t decide whether to kiss me or choke me. Her eyes slide from my face down to my hand.

“I’m fine, thanks,” she says, passing me by.

I can’t deny that the distance in her voice hurts, especially after what I just did to pull her out of that hellhole. But I don’t respond. My words will not do our already fragile love any good.

Besides, there’ll be plenty of time for words later.

I follow her up the steps of my mansion. One of the housekeepers is holding open the double doors for us.

Harper looks around like she can’t believe she’s here again.

The housekeeper shuts the front door with a clang and quickly disappears.

We’re alone.

She’s safe.

She’s still in front of me, peering up at the beautiful tapestries on the wall like she’s remembering what it felt like the first time she walked these halls.

I clear my throat. “Are you okay?”

She glances at me over her shoulder, and her mouth twists. “You already asked me that.”

I nod.

More awkward silence.

But my heart is anything but silent.

It wants to scream out the feelings I have for her.

But I don’t think it’s the right time for that when she just came back here.

Harper draws in a sharp breath. It sounds almost like a sob. When she looks up at me, unshed tears glisten in her eyes.

“My mother—”

She can’t even get through that before the full weight of everything she’s experienced since we left comes crashing down on her.

It floors her.

I hear the twin thunk-thunk of Harper’s trembling knees hitting the marbled floor.

And then her sobs.

Gut-wrenching, full-bodied sobs consume her. It’s the only sound in the whole house.

That, and the crystalline splash of her tears striking the floor.

“Harper…” I growl.

Then I do the only thing I can do. Sinking to my knees in front of her, I put a hand on either side of her face and force her to look at me.

She’s as beautiful as she was the very first time I laid eyes on her in that club. Every bit as fierce. Every bit as proud.

But she’s crumpling under the weight of tragedies she shouldn’t have to bear alone.

So I tell her that.

“I’m here,” I whisper in a low rasp. “You’re not alone anymore.”

And then I kiss her. As natural as breathing, my lips find hers, and it’s the greatest fucking feeling I’ve ever known.

Her mouth is warm and wet against mine. Still tearstained. Still trembling.

At first, she’s tentative.

But as the clock in the corner chimes out in slow seconds, she opens to it. Her lips part, and my tongue snakes in. Her hands clasp on top of mine. She clings to my fingers desperately.

The kiss deepens. I slide a hand down to her hip and pull her closer to me while the other hand finds the roots of her hair and winds through it.

She’s still hesitant.

So am I.

I know what this woman does to me, to my self-control.

But fuck it—the hunger to consume her is so much more powerful.

With a deep growl low in my chest, I wrench her all the way into my arms. She resists for a moment before she gives in completely.

And when she does, she melts into me. Her body presses against mine, her soft breasts against my chest, her hair falling over us both like a curtain.

I close my eyes and savor her kiss on my lips.

Then I lean back against the marble parquet flooring. It’s cold against my back, but that’s just more delicious contrast to the woman burning up on top of me.

She sinks with me, never breaking the kiss.

Our hands are scrabbling over each other. So fucking hungry. So fucking needy.

I find the hem of her shirt and rip it over her head. For the briefest of seconds, our lips part, but as soon as the garment is discarded, I smash my lips on hers again, devouring her like I’ll never get the chance again.

She undoes the buttons of my shirt with frantic, trembling fingertips. Her touch is cool against my hot skin.

I roll her around on her back and don’t give her any time to think before I rip both her pants and panties down and toss them aside blindly.

She gasps again as the air hits her bare thighs. I soothe away the surprise of it by trailing soft, heated kisses from the inside of her knee all the way up to where it meets her hip.

She’s as perfect as she was when she left. Every bit as porcelain. Every bit as flawless.

And the taste of her when I finally tongue her center is fucking heaven to me.

“Fuck,” I growl under my breath.

At the same time, she moans the same thing. “Fuck!”

I lap from the bottom of her slit to the top and then loll my tongue over her clit with tiny little flicks. Pressure and release, pressure and release, again and again. And as I do, I knead her thighs and ass with my fingertips. Pulling her closer and closer into me, I make her offer more and more of herself—and whatever she doesn’t offer, I intend to take.

I add a finger to the mix. She tightens around it instantly. Instinctively. Her body obeying its master.

“Oh God,” she mumbles through lips that are barely working anymore. “Oh God, I think I’m gonna—”

Then I add the second finger, and she loses the power of speech entirely.

Her words dissolve into a long, strangled moan that reaches up to the rafters above. The house echoes with it.

It occurs to me for a moment that this hallway is made for this. Fuck making love in the bedroom. I want it to happen in a room as big as Harper’s moans. I want it to happen with the night visible through the huge windows. And I want the whole house to vibrate each and every time I make her come.

The orgasm releases her, and she struggles up on her elbows to look down at where I’m nestled shirtless between her thighs.

She tries to talk. “Marcello, I—”

“Enough.” I plant a finger on her lips. This isn’t the time for words. That’ll come later.

Right now, I plan to fuck her to oblivion, bring her down to earth, then fuck her right back there again.

I tear off the button on my pants, not giving a shit that I ruined them, and I slide out of them with ease. I reach forward to ensnare her neck in one hand and jerk her upright so that we meet in the air with a hot, juicy kiss. My beard is soaked with her, my fingers too, but if she notices or cares, she doesn’t say anything.

She just melts even deeper into me.

With my other hand, I reach down, grab her by the hips, and tuck us both into a roll. I land on my back with her straddling me.

She cries out again. “Marcello!”

But I smother her mouth with one palm as I use my other to line my throbbing cock up with her entrance.

She makes eye contact, and it’s the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Eyes wide with fright and lust and maybe something deeper than that, too. The moon streaming in through the high windows hits us like a spotlight. Her skin is glowing, and her eyes are impossibly bright.

Then I coax her down the final distance, and she’s so wet that I slip inside her instantly.

It’s where I belong.

Her eyes flutter closed, and she starts to ride me. Her knees planted on either side of me, and one hand of hers clamped on top of mine where it’s still keeping her mouth closed.

I like it this way. She moans into my hand, and I can feel the exhales, feel the vibrations surging up my arm and into my heart.

Her hips buck harder, and I start to move in rhythm with her bounces. My head falls back as I squeeze her hips and urge her to keep going. Each wet crash of our bodies meeting gets us closer to the edge.

“I’m so fucking close,” she murmurs again. My hand falls away so she can choke out her moans into the open again. “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

I’m close, too, but I can’t even find the words for it. It starts as a rumble in my chest and rises up through my throat. By the time it finds my lips, I’m erupting inside her.

“Marcello!” she whimpers once more.

“Harper…” I murmur back.

One.

Two.

Three more hard thrusts, and then we collapse together in a sweaty tangle of limbs.

We lie there for a while. Who the fuck knows how long?

Until, eventually, Harper pulls herself off me and pushes up onto her knees. She’s still wearing a bra, but everything else about her is smooth naked skin. Her hair is a sex-crazed mess.

She’s never looked better.

But her eyes—there’s a storm brewing there.

She looks everywhere but at me. And then finally, she does look down at me.

There are no words. The look in her eyes is deadly, and it seems to last forever.

A sigh leaves her mouth. She picks up her clothes and puts them on again as her cheeks flush with embarrassment over what just happened.

“Harper,” I mutter as I lean up on my elbows.

She cringes. “I hate it when you say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it means something,” she says, throwing me a look.

I frown. “What does that mean?”

I stand and grab my clothes from the floor. She stays where she is, observing silently. I don’t look down at her again until I’m fully dressed.

“What was this?” she asks.

It’s a strange question, but I know what she really means. What does it mean to have sex with a man you’re supposed to hate?

And I don’t have a single fucking clue how to answer that.

But I know, deep down, that she isn’t just my captive. That she isn’t just some girl I plucked off an auction to have my way with.

Over time, she’s become so much more than that.

But how do I explain it?

Is she my captive? Is she something else? Something more?

“It was … necessary,” I rasp.

She looks away, confused, and I recognize my own emotions in her eyes all too well.

“Who are you supposed to be for me?” she mutters.

“Who do you want me to be?”

It’s the first time I’ve ever thought of how she would perceive me and how much I am willing to do to make her feel safe. To make her happy … with me.

She shakes her head slowly. “I don’t know. I don’t know who anyone is anymore. Everything is so confusing.”

I nod, my jaw tensing up. “This isn’t your world.”

She grimaces. “No. Yet I am here for some goddamn reason, and I don’t understand.”

When I approach her, she flinches.

“No, don’t touch me.”

I extend my arms, but she refuses to come in for the embrace. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting.

“Stop acting like you’re some kind of nice guy wanting to console me.”

“You’re right. I’m not a nice guy. I never said I was. But I will never stop trying to make you feel good.”

“Why?”

The question almost feels like a plea.

Her eyes flash bright with anger. “I never asked for any of this. Yet somehow, I was born into it and got dragged straight back in. Why can’t I just leave? Why can’t it all just stop?”

I lick my lips, the pain in her voice gripping my soul. “Because I … need you.”

Her eyes widen, and her whole body freezes up, which means I finally have her attention. “Don’t lie just to keep me here.”

“I am not lying. I am not trying to manipulate you. I am trying to tell you that I l—”

“Don’t.” She raises her finger briskly. “Don’t say something you can’t take back.” Tears well up in her eyes. “Don’t say something that’ll destroy me.”

My grimace deepens. “Fine. You have my deepest apologies. But I saved you from those Irish fucks because I care. Because I want you to be safe.”

She rolls her eyes hard. “Stop trying to be a martyr! You took me from Molly’s home because you wanted me for yourself. Admit it.”

I step forward and grab her jaw hard with one hand. “I asked you what you want me to be. You didn’t have an answer. I’ll ask one more time. What do you want me to be to you, Harper?”

Her eyes are locked on mine. Bright and infuriating. Equal parts love and hate.

Because that is the one thing that’s driving us both insane right now.

What is it that we’re so afraid to say out loud?

What is so dangerous about this one thing we’re not supposed to feel for each other?

The clock in the corner tolls out midnight.

She tears away from my grip and marches off toward her room upstairs, and I let her.