Chapter Thirty-Four Nathan

Icouldn't tear my gaze off her.

I sank down onto the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight as Abby rifled through the array of clothes laid out before her. The room was filled with the rustle of fabric and an electric anticipation that I tried to ignore.

"I picked out a couple of things myself," I said, watching her carefully. "But I got a personal shopper to handle most of it."

She lifted a black dress, running her fingers over the silk that caught the evening light spilling through the window. I couldn't help but watch her, the way her green eyes danced across each item. It was like she was touching parts of me without even knowing it.

The effect she had on me…it was like nothing I'd ever experienced.

Why did I want her to like this so much? To like me? It pissed me off, this need for approval clawing its way up from somewhere deep inside me. I wasn't a man who sought validation from others; my name alone commanded respect—or fear—without me having to utter a single word.

"Did you have any particular theme in mind with these?" Her voice broke through my thoughts, laced with a subtle hint of curiosity beneath her detachment.

"Let's just say I wanted options," I replied, forcing a casual shrug. I leaned back on my palms, my eyes never leaving her. "For different occasions."

The corner of her mouth quirked up, almost a smile, but not quite. It irked me that I noticed such small changes in her expression, that I cared if she was pleased or not.

"I see," she murmured, pulling out a deep red blouse and holding it against her. My breath hitched. Damn, she'd look good in that. Too good. "So you're planning on taking me out?"

"I plan on doing whatever I'd like with you," I shoot back.

She laughed softly, then sobered, chewing on her lip as her eyes darted toward mine.

"Then we'll need a solid story." She cleared her throat, straightening her posture as if bracing for a confrontation she knew too well. "A cover. If you don't want the cops on your tail or my father getting suspicious."

Her words pulled me out of the web of desire ensnaring my thoughts. I smirked at her, appreciating the way her mind shifted gears, always thinking two steps ahead. It was one of the things that made her different, made her stand out in a world where most people couldn't see past their own noses.

"Strategic thinking. I like that," I admitted with a nod. "It's smart. You got that from your old man?"

"Being a cop's daughter teaches you a few things," she replied, the ghost of a smile touching her lips as she folded the blouse neatly and set it aside. "Including how to keep stories straight."

"Good," I said, the corner of my mouth lifting slightly. "Because we'll need that sharp mind of yours if this is going to work."

She met my gaze squarely, green eyes steady, and I saw the flicker of respect in them. For a moment, I forgot about the clothes, about wanting her approval, about this game we were playing. In that instant, there was just the raw acknowledgment of two adversaries recognizing each other's worth.

And damn if that didn't turn me on even more.

She busied herself with the clothes I'd bought, laying them out across the bed with a methodical precision that spoke of her need for control. My eyes tracked her movements as she unfolded a silk blouse and then a pair of jeans, creating an organized display of fabrics and colors.

"Alright," Abby began, her voice breaking the silence between us. "Then we need to figure out details."

"Agreed," I said, leaning back on my hands and watching her. "The Red Lantern is our spot then. We met there, got talking, and one thing led to another. We've been seeing each other for a whirlwind week after months of flirting."

She raised an eyebrow but nodded slowly. "It's not a bad angle. It's public enough that it's believable we could have met there, but private enough that not everyone would know about us. And we both had public reasons to be there—me at work, you at the flower shop."

"Exactly," I said, the edge of a smile playing on my lips.

Abby paused, considering, then continued, "That should work. I don't broadcast my life to my friends. They won't question it too much."

Her gaze was distant for a moment, lost in thought, and I wondered what kind of walls she'd put up around her life before all of this.

"Good," I replied, feeling a coil of satisfaction unwind within me. The less her friends knew, the better. It meant fewer holes in our story, fewer chances for everything to come crashing down around us.

And I couldn't afford that—not with so much at stake.

I watched her pick through the clothes again before she paused, a frown creasing her brow. "But what about the Red Lantern? I can't just disappear from work without an explanation."

"Already taken care of," I said, a hint of impatience in my voice. "I texted your boss from your phone and gave notice this morning."

Her eyes snapped up to mine, blazing with anger so raw it could've cut glass. "You did what?" Abby's voice was tight, a dangerous calm before the storm.

"I made a decision," I said, meeting her fury head-on. My own temper flared, hot and quick as a struck match. "You have a job, Abby. And that's to be my plaything."

The words were harsh, even to my own ears, but they hung between us like a challenge. I could see the flicker of defiance in her gaze, the unwillingness to bend.

But then she squared her shoulders, her expression hardening as she looked me dead in the eye.

With deliberate slowness, she reached down and grasped the hem of her t-shirt, pulling it over her head in one fluid motion. The fabric whispered against her skin, a soft sound in the growing tension of the room.

She didn't break eye contact, not even as she shimmied out of the sweats that hung loose on her hips.

I stepped back to look at her, wanting to get an eyeful of her curves…but all I could see were the bruises. They were reminders of my loss of control, a dark testament to the world I was born into—a world that demanded violence.

I made a promise to myself right then and there that I would never hurt her again.

"Which one do you want to see first?" Her voice cut through the silence, a clear note in the heavy air between us.

I swallowed hard, pushing down the bile of regret. "The green dress," I said, my voice rough around the edges. "It'll bring out your eyes."

She nodded, her movements measured as she reached for the garment. It was a simple thing, just a slip of emerald silk that seemed too delicate for the gritty reality of our lives. But as she slipped it over her head, the color played against her skin, a stark contrast to the dark marks I had left on her.

"Green suits you," I said, trying to keep my voice level, but there was no ignoring the pull in my chest as I watched her. Abby turned, giving me a full view, and despite everything, my body reacted, desire winding tight in my belly.

"Good choice," she said quietly, though I could hear the edge in her tone. My approval mattered to her more than she would admit.

"Turn around for me." The command slipped out, coated with a ravenous hunger I couldn't quite rein in.

She did, the fabric clinging to her in all the right places, and I had to bite back a groan. The sight of her like this, vulnerable yet defiant, was a siren call to the darker parts of me. Parts that yearned to claim her, to mark her as mine in every way imaginable.

"Your ass looks fucking incredible wrapped in green silk," I murmured, the words raw against my throat. "Makes me want to pull it off you and slap that gorgeous ass. Would you like that?"

Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, and she turned back to face me, the rise in her chest betraying a quickened breath. "Yes," she breathed.

"Not right now, though," I smirked. "I want to see another one—the black one, there."

She stripped off the green dress, and I made a mental note to ensure I had her wear it at least once—and to slap her ass, just like I'd promised. My fingertips practically vibrated with the anticipation of touching her, feeling how wet I could get her.

The green dress landed in a silken heap on the bed, and she stood there waiting, her confidence wavering for a moment under my intense gaze. I picked up the black gown and held it open for her, watching as she stepped into its luxurious embrace.

"Zip me up?" Abby's voice was soft, almost hopeful, and it tugged at something deep within me—a need to protect, to cherish, even as I planned to dominate.

I pulled the zipper up slowly, savoring the closeness, my hands brushing against her sides, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath the thin fabric. Once the gown hugged her curves, I turned her towards the full-length mirror, flanked by two massive monstera plants. My hands roamed up to her chest, cupping her tits through the dress, and I leaned in close, my lips grazing her pulse point just below her ear.

"Look at yourself," I whispered, my breath hot on her skin. "Every inch the queen I know you are."

"I shouldn't have much need for evening gowns," Abby said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes met mine in the reflection, a mix of defiance and vulnerability that made my heart race.

"You don't know what you'll need," I countered, my voice low and steady. "I'm a very rich man, Abby. You're going to be on my arm for all kinds of events."

The underlying message was clear: she was mine, and I would display her as such.

I hadn't brought her up here to fuck her…but now, seeing her like this, in clothes I'd bought for her, I wanted her. My cock was getting hard fast, and I needed to be inside her. I was sure she could feel my erection pressing against her back, her eyes flickering to mine in the mirror.

"Let's see something else," I said, voice rough with desire as I reached for the zipper. The sound of it lowering seemed unnaturally loud in the room—and I almost bent her over right there to fuck her in that evening gown. I would have, if I didn't want so badly to see her in what I had planned next.

I retreated to the bed, sitting down with more force than necessary. My voice came out as a command: "I want to see the black lingerie now."

Abby's eyes flickered with a spark that told me she wasn't unaffected by this game we played. Naked, she stepped out of the crumpled dress and walked back to where the lingerie lay on the bed—a set of black lace that promised sin and secrets. As she picked it up, I noted her hard pink nipples and red lips, betraying her arousal. It pleased me—this reaction I could draw from her despite everything.

Fuck…everything about her fucking pleased me.

"Put them on," I said, keeping my voice steady even as my fingers itched to touch her again.

She hesitated, just for a moment, and I couldn't resist. I reached out, tweaking a nipple, watching closely for her reaction. A sharp intake of breath, her eyelids fluttering—that was all the confirmation I needed.

She slid into the black lace, a tight slip that clung to her curves like it was painted on. The crotchless panties were a bold choice, even for me. She glanced up through her thick lashes, a smirk dancing on her lips. "Really practical, these," she said, the snark clear in her breathy voice. But there was a glimmer in her green eyes—a silent dare.

I arched an eyebrow. "They're for easy access," I said, my tone matter-of-fact. "You should always be ready for me."

A flush crept over her freckled cheeks, but she didn't look away.

"Come here," I crooked my finger, pulling her into my orbit.

She stepped forward, hesitation giving way to a newfound boldness. She straddled me, her hands exploring the terrain of my chest through my shirt. Her touch was light, fleeting, driving me insane with the promise of what could happen next.

"Good girl," I murmured, leaning back on my elbows, giving her control—for now. Abby's gaze held mine, fierce and unyielding, as if she was challenging the very darkness in me.

"Am I?" she whispered, her breath warm against my skin.

"I'm not sure," I replied. "Maybe you should show me."

Abby's fingers, nimble and deliberate, found the first button of my shirt. She flicked it open with a satisfying pop, her green eyes never leaving mine. The second button followed, then the third, each undoing a little more of the designer clothes that I wore like armor.

She leaned closer, her body pressing against mine in a move that was both innocent and charged with intent. The heat from her skin seeped through the fabric of my clothes, branding me with a need I couldn't ignore.

Then, she started to grind her hips against me—a slow, torturous rhythm that was pure Abby. She was all soft curves and sweet heat, a contrast to the harsh world I commanded outside these four walls.

"Jesus, Abby," I growled when I felt the wetness on my pants. Looking down, I saw the darkened fabric where she'd marked me with her arousal. My gut tightened; this woman was under my skin, and she knew it.

"Look what you did," I chided, my voice thick with desire. "Now clean it up."

Her eyes flashed, defiant and fiery, as if she relished the push and pull between us.

But my perfect, gorgeous toy did as she was told.

Abby's gaze locked with mine as she knelt between my legs on the bed, an image of pure temptation. She didn't break eye contact as she leaned forward, her breath hot through the fabric over my cock. Then her tongue darted out, a wet, warm stroke against the silk of my slacks, cleaning the evidence of her desire from the material.

A shudder ran through me, my hand fisting in the sheets. I could feel myself hardening, painfully so, as she continued with slow, deliberate licks. It was a torture of the sweetest kind—feeling her mouth there but not having her mouth on me.

"Abby," I hissed, my voice strained with want. "Take them off."

Her hands moved to my waistband, fingers deftly unbuttoning and pulling down the zipper. The sound seemed deafening in the thick tension of the room. With every inch she peeled away, the cooler air hit my heated skin, making me all the more aware of her proximity.

The slacks were pushed down, and I lifted my hips to help her slide them off completely. There was something about being partially undressed by someone else that felt intensely intimate, even for a man who was used to taking what he wanted.

Now, with Abby here, kneeling between my spread legs, I felt a surge of possessiveness that went beyond the physical. In this moment, it wasn't just about the heat between us—it was about the raw connection that kept drawing us back into each other's orbit, no matter how much I tried to deny it.

Her green eyes locked onto mine, a silent challenge flickering in their depths as she stripped me bare. I watched every move, fixated on the way her fingers brushed against my skin, sending jolts of electric need coursing through my veins. The pants pooled at my feet, and she tossed them aside with a flick of her wrist.

I bit back a groan as she leaned in to take me into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around the head, tasting me with a mix of curiosity and hunger that had me panting. I could feel every inch of her warmth against my skin, all the way down to my balls where she teased lightly with her breath.

She took more of me in her mouth, slowly drawing back until just the tip disappeared between her perfect lips. There was a growl deep in my throat when she began to bob her head up and down on my shaft, taking more of me with each downward glide. It felt like heaven and hell wrapped into one as she filled her sensuous lips around me, sucking softly yet firmly.

Her grip on my thighs tightened as she took more of me, moaning softly against the length of my shaft. The sound vibrated through me, making my entire body tense with anticipation. I couldn't decide if I wanted to fuck her now or savor this slow torture for as long as possible.

Then I felt myself getting close to the brink…and I knew I wanted to come inside her, not in her mouth.

"Come here," I rasped, and dragged her up toward me, my hands in her long, dark hair.

I was desperate for her as I dragged her into my lap, my cock finding her entrance easily through the crotchless panties. Abby let out a soft whimper of need as I teased at her entrance, not quite dipping inside.

"Ride me, Abby," I growled. "Take my cock. I'm gonna fuck you so fucking deep—"

She sank down onto me at that moment, legs on either side of my hips, her breasts grazing my chest through the lace. I groaned, clutching her back, then lower to squeeze her ass.

"Fuck," she whispered. "Use me, Nathan. Please."

I thrust up into her eagerly, my eyes locking with hers as I claimed her body. She was wet and tight, gripping me with every move, her walls pulsing around me with each plunge. The pleasure was overwhelming, a raw, animalistic need driving us both forward.

Abby's hands gripped my shoulders as she rode me, her eyes locked onto mine with a fierce intensity that matched my own. Her nails pressed divots into my flesh, pussy clenching in time with my thrusts.

"Fuck, you feel so fucking good," I snarled. "My pet…my plaything, mine."

I took her in my arms and rolled us, positioning her beneath me on the expansive bed. I propped myself up on my hands to get a look at her—at the black lace covering her lithe body, at the look on her face. I thrust into her again, and she let out a long, drawn-out moan that sent shivers down my spine. I kissed her passionately, tasting the sweetness of her lips as her arms wrapped around me tightly.

My cock slid in and out of her wet heat, and I could feel her body trembling with every stroke, sense her getting closer to the edge. Her nails raked down my back, leaving red marks that only intensified the pleasure.

"Fuck, Nathan, don't stop. I need you so much," she whispered in a hoarse voice, her eyes never leaving mine.

I could feel the orgasm building within me, the tension coiling like a serpent around my heart. I thrust harder and faster, feeling her heat surround me, her body tense and arch…

…and then she cried out, her walls clenching around me in a tight grip.

I couldn't help but follow her over the brink—because there was nothing that turned me on quite so much as getting her off with my cock inside her.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as we rode the waves of pleasure together, my arms around her. My eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowed—and then she was kissing me without permission, and I let her. I let her fucking kiss me, because she was mine and maybe…maybe I was hers.

We were still kissing as I rolled to the side, the two of us entangled in my bed—and we didn't stop. We lay there and we kissed and kissed…and I knew I could never let her go.

We finally stopped after what felt like hours, and I gazed into her green eyes. She was so beautiful it nearly made my heart stop—especially when she smiled, the kind of smile I had to mirror even though I wasn't the smiling type.

"That was…wow," she whispered, then nudged my shoulder. "Now, I hope you got me something comfortable to wear, too—because I'm making you dinner tonight."

All I could do was watch her, speechless, as she got out of bed and peeled the lingerie off to toss it on the floor, then shimmied out of the now-drenched panties. She sorted through the rack of clothes and picked out a set of shorts and a fluffy sweater, then looked back at me.

"What?" she said. "Did I blow your mind?"

I chuckled. "You wish."

"Then stop ogling me and get your ass out of bed," she laughed. "I'm starving."

I laughed with her, shaking my head, and shed my shirt to go to my dresser. I caught her checking me out as I glanced over my shoulder, then went back to digging up a t-shirt and sweats.

It was only then that it struck me how much I'd laughed with her. Even after what I'd put her through…she was constantly making me laugh, making herself crack up when she talked to me.

I loved seeing her smile light up her face.

And I would do anything to keep that smile on her face.

Even if it killed me.