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First though, I really hated how exposed I was. I couldn’t hide my breasts and my lady bits behind my hands.
“I’ve seen it all. Don’t try to hide it from me, Rylee.”
He grabbed my wrists, placing both in one of his hands. His eyes dragged over my body, and I struggled with yelling obscenities at him or laying back and letting him use my body.
I hated the way he could make my body want something that my brain was slowly realizing I shouldn’t want. He wasn’t the boy I’d built up. He wasn’t even the story I’d come up with for myself.
“Here. Put this on,” he repeated.
I unfolded the sweatshirt once he released me and slipped it over my head as I breathed in the scent that was uniquely him. My heart fluttered and I couldn’t stop it.
No. I was not letting him think he could own me. Something was really starting to slip into place. The way he thought he could come and go as he pleased. The way he was at the scene of that judge. The way he seemed to know where I was. I shivered. The way he took out anyone that might be competition. Fucking hell.
I backed away in my wet shoes. They were strappy and impractical, but there wasn’t much to be wet so they’d dry fast enough. I didn’t see me wearing them again even if they weren’t ruined. They weren’t, I was pretty positive. Nothing I had was name brand.
I looked around for my phone again. Forgetting what I was wearing, and that I had nothing more than a dam bra on and a sweatshirt. It was no surprise when his hand slapped my ass cheek.
“Don’t bend down like that once we leave this room. This…”
He cupped my pussy.
“Is only for me.”
I let myself swoon on the inside and I blamed the fucking orgasm, but on the outside, I grabbed up my phone and spun around, flashing him my middle finger.
“It’s not yours. None of this,” I said and ran a hand up and down to gesture all of me, “none of this is anyone’s.”
In a huff, I stormed off toward the door he’d carried me in. The man was magic or something because he caught up with little more than a few steps and his bag flung over his shoulder.
“Oh, blossom. You’re mine. Or is that a challenge to prove it?”
His hand on my upper arm forced me to turn and look at him. I swore I would never let any man control me but crap, theway he looked at me. I was backing up, and he countered every step I took until I hit something cold and hard.
“Not a challenge, Cas. I am not something to be owned.”
His eyes danced over my face. He reached behind me, and for a second, I flinched, thinking he was going to haul me back into the locker room, not that some part of me wasn’t hoping for an encore. A lot of me wanted to just get away from drowning in him. I needed to come up for air before I lost the battle.
The door opened, and I had to move away to let us out, but it wasn’t before he leaned in and whispered.
“Rylee, you’ve always been mine, so bend over one time out here and I promise you won’t walk for a week.”
I swallowed, but followed him out because what the hell was I supposed to say to that?
The arena was mostly deserted except for a few screaming girls that didn’t give a crap that I was standing there in what was obviously not my sweatshirt.
“Reaper, sign my bra.”
I remembered the announcer using names like Reaper and The Snake. I think there was someone called The Thing even, but I hadn’t really made the connection. They were real men in charge of the city’s largest gangs, of course they wouldn’t be using real names up there.
I looked at him and watched what he did next.
“Nah, not today. Hand’s too sore. Come to the next fight.”
The girls whined, but Xander came out of nowhere.
“Come now, ladies. What about love for your Shadow Daddy?”
They giggled and fawned all over him. He shot me a wink and took a marker out and started to sign whatever body part they flashed him. Fucking hell. One girl lifted her shirt so he could just sign her tit.
