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I Own You

Hypothetical Question: If your life had a narrator, would they be on your side or roasting you the entire time?

Carina

Nate just gave me the most earth-shattering orgasm of my life—and he hasn't even been inside me yet.

I'm ravenous for him. Aching. Desperate. Insatiable. The way he looked at me when our eyes met, just before I ended Robert's pathetic excuse for a life, sent me a shot of pure, liquid heat. Knowing Nate was watching me—watching me kill him?

God, it lit me up from the inside.

The adrenaline still courses through me, my thoughts tangled in the electric blur between the thrill of the kill and the raw, animalistic hunger I feel for him. The media release is already out. It won't be long before the police start combing through Robert's properties.

Luckily, this place isn't in his name. It'll buy us time.

But the risk ?

The chance that we could be caught—not just for killing Robert, but for fucking right here, in the aftermath of it all?

It only makes me want him more.

It's twisted, I know. But after the life I've lived, is it shocking that my desires don't fit neatly into the world's expectations? That my hunger is laced with blood, chaos, and fire?

And right now, they're all focused on him .

I want Nate to break me down, to take me apart in a way no one ever has.

This isn't like the others—the ones who stole control from me, who forced their will on me. With Nate, it's different.

I want to give it to him. Freely. Willingly.

I want to be his in a way that terrifies and excites me. Because with Nate, surrendering isn't losing —it's winning .

His mouth brushes against mine, his breath hot against my lips. "I want to fuck you so hard you feel me for weeks," he murmurs.

"Yes," I gasp. "Fuck, yes ."

The thought of him inside me sends a fresh pulse of arousal straight to my core.

He pulls his fingers from me slowly, then—never breaking eye contact—sucks them into his mouth. His tongue sweeps over them, a wicked grin curling his lips as he licks me from his skin.

My breath stutters, my chest rising and falling in uneven gasps. His gaze is locked on me, on the way my breasts shift beneath my shirt with each inhale.

"I can't wait to see your pretty tits again," he murmurs, voice rough with need. "But right now? I need you too fucking badly."

He grips my leggings, yanking them down in one swift motion, along with the scrap of pink lace that’s supposed to be my underwear. The cool air rushes over my exposed skin, raising goosebumps. I step out of them, but my foot catches on the fabric.

A startled laugh bubbles up, but it dies in my throat at his next words.

"Turn around," Nate commands, his voice dark, rough, and absolute.

I do as he commands, turning to face the wall. The heat of his body presses against my back, scorching through our clothes, branding me.

“Hands on the wall.”

I obey without hesitation.

The sound of his zip slices through the air. The rustle of denim follows, his jeans shoved down his thighs. Then his body is back—hot, hard, unrelenting—his presence wrapping around me like a noose and a lifeline all at once.

"I want to watch my cum drip from your sweet little pussy." His voice is a rasp against my ear, his breath a sinful caress. "Tell me I can do that."

"Yes," I moan, rolling my hips back, desperate for more for him.

His lips ghost over the shell of my ear. "Once I have you, Princess, you're mine. I own you."

A violent shiver races down my spine, and I hate how much I love it. I shouldn't want to be owned by another man—not after everything I've been through. But this is Nate. With him, it's different .

I already know that being his would be better than anything I've ever dared to dream.

"Have me," I breathe, the words spilling out before I can stop them.

A guttural sound rumbles from his chest. He grips his cock, dragging the head through my slickness, circling my entrance—taunting, teasing, controlling.

Then he slams into me in one powerful thrust.

A choked cry rips from my throat as my body stretches to take him, every inch of him forcing me open, commanding my submission.

"Oh, fuck ," he groans, pulling out almost all the way before spearing back inside me. His thighs press tight against mine, his grip bruising on my hips like he needs to own every inch of me.

"Nate!" His name rips from my lips, half plea, half prayer.

One of his hand’s snakes around my throat, fingers tightening—not too much, just enough to steal my breath, to make me lightheaded with pleasure. He pulls me back, peeling me away from the wall until I'm upright, my back flush against his chest.

He pistons inside me, each brutal thrust striking some deep, devastating place. His grip on my throat tightens slightly, and white-hot pleasure crashes over me, stars blooming behind my closed eyelids.

"You're fucking mine ," he growls, his voice a razor's edge of possession and lust.

"Yes," I gasp. " Yes ."

"Come for me, Carina."

The command unravels me. His free hand snakes between my thighs, his fingers finding my clit—one sharp pinch, one perfect stroke, and I shatter.

My orgasm detonates a tidal wave of pleasure consuming me.

Before the aftershocks subside, Nate yanks out, his movements swift and decisive. In a blur, he spins me to face him, my back colliding with the cool wall. His grip is ironclad as he lifts me effortlessly, wrapping my legs around his waist.

And then he thrusts into me again—deeper this time, brutal in his need, in our need.

"Oh, God," I sob, the pleasure almost unbearable.

"Not God, but I appreciate the compliment," he smirks, breaking through the intoxicating intensity with a flash of arrogance.

He pulls out just to slam back in, fucking me into the wall, using it for leverage. One of his hands slides under my shirt, finding my breast and squeezing roughly. I arch into him, my body his to mould, break apart, and worship.

And fuck—I want all of it.

“Nate!”

His hips continue a punishing pace, his hands gripping my thighs with enough force to leave bruises. Each deep thrust sends pleasure surging higher, pushing me closer to the edge. My body trembles as a third orgasm rips through me, raw and all-consuming. I cry out; my voice is hoarse from the pleasure wracking my body.

Nate isn't far behind. A deep growl rumbles from his chest as he buries himself inside me, his release hot and possessive, spilling deep into my core. His breathing is ragged against my neck, his hands still holding me tight like he can't bear to let go.

"You're a fucking goddess," he breathes, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

The haze of pleasure lingers, but reality slams into me like a cold slap. The body. The blood. The inevitable arrival of the cops.

"Shit," I mutter, my pulse still erratic. "We need to clean up. They'll be here soon."

In an instant, the Nate who just worshipped my body is gone. The playful smirk and lingering heat in his eyes vanish, replaced by something sharp. Ruthless.

He pulls out of me slowly, watching as his cum trickles down my thigh. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he hums in satisfaction.

"Don't start," I warn, pulling up my clothes, but the look he gives me is nothing short of wicked.

"Can't help it, Princess. You look even better like this—wrecked, marked by me."

“You’re sick.”

"You just fucked me next to the man you killed. That makes you sicker."

I open my mouth, then snap it shut because—yeah. Fair point.

Instead, I focus on the mess in front of us. "Let's just clean this up."

"Kai's already on his way."

I freeze mid-movement, narrowing my eyes. "How? That would take—”

"I had him on standby."

My stomach knots. The implication is clear.

"Wait." I turn to him fully. "You were here to kill Robert?"

Nate leans back against the desk, arms crossed over his chest. "You beat me to it. Again." There's a smirk in his tone, but something dark lurks beneath it.

"How do you even know so much about what these guys do? They keep this shit buried."

He tilts his head, considering me, then says, "Because I grew up surrounded by them."

The words are soft, but they hit like a gunshot.

A thousand questions rise, but one barrels to the front. My throat tightens. "Then you must know where to find Simon Gardner."

Nate's entire body becomes rigid. His expression shifts instantly, and the lightness is gone, replaced by something dangerous.

"He's a friend of my father's."

The air between us thickens, an unspoken truth crackling in the silence.

Then, finally, he speaks.

"That makes it easier." His voice is low, resolute. "But if I'm helping you, I'm in. All the way. We're a team now."

A flicker of hesitation grips me. I've planned to do it all alone. But I realise something as I look at Nate—at the sharp angles of his face, the ruthless gleam in his eyes. With him, I could make Simon's end so much worse. A nightmare of his own making.

And that thought?

That's the best thing I've felt all night.

"Fine," I say, my voice steady, the promise of revenge sealing the deal between us.

Nate's lips quirk into a smirk, something dark and satisfied flickering in his eyes. "Let's get to work, Queen Carina."

"Hey, lovebirds." Kai's voice cuts through the thick air of the room.

I jerk back instinctively, suddenly hyper-aware of what just happened here—where it happened. My face heats, but I force myself to meet Kai's gaze, offering a half-hearted wave.

Nate, noticing my hesitation, grips my chin between his fingers and tilts my face toward him. His dark eyes search mine. "You're not having second thoughts?"

"No," I reply quickly. Maybe too quickly. "Just… processing."

His lips twitch, and something softer crosses his face for a moment. It's fleeting, gone before I can name it. Then, just as fast, he leans down, pressing a swift, possessive kiss to my lips before pulling away.

"We need to do this fast."

Nate and Kai move with precision; their practised efficiency makes my stomach twist. It's not the first time they've done this. I shouldn't feel comforted by that, but I do.

"I have one last thing to do," I murmur.

Nate's eyes burn into mine. He doesn't ask. He watches, his expression unreadable. But then, after a tense beat, he nods once and turns back to the body, preparing it for Kai’s plans.

Twenty minutes later, I press send. The video is out.

A breath rushes out of me, too sharp, too unsteady. I knew killing Robert wouldn't be enough. I needed the world to know what he was before he rotted in the ground. My voice has been distorted; my face concealed. Only he is in view, strapped to a chair, confession spilling from his bloodied lips. The moment I took his pinky, the proof was mine. And now, it belongs to the world.

Risky? Yes. But it was worth it.

"Let's bounce. Kai will handle the rest." Nate reaches for my hand, ready to drag me outside.

"Are you sure? Shouldn't we help?" I chew my bottom lip, guilt creeping in. Kai shouldn't have to clean up my mess alone.

"I'm good here. This is what I do," Kai calls from the other room.

Nate squeezes my fingers. "He's a professional, Princess. Don't worry about Kai."

I hesitate, then nod. If they say it's fine…

Nate leads me out, our steps crunching over gravel as we move toward the edge of the property.

"How'd you get here?" he asks.

"Walked. My car's parked two towns over."

His brow lifts. "Smart. You're learning. But how were you planning to clean the scene?"

I smirk. "I knew my trusty murderous stalker would have it covered."

Nate barks out a laugh. A real one. And damn, it's intoxicating. The sound is unguarded and effortless, as if none of this touches him.

"You think I'm stalking you now?" His voice drops to a lethal whisper, teasing but laced with something darker. "Just wait, Princess. Now that you're mine, you'll never be free of me."

A delicious shiver skates down my spine. "Can't wait to see where else you 'randomly' turn up."

He chuckles, low and dangerous. "Come on. My car's this way."

The drive is quiet, but my mind isn't. I should be focused on everything that just happened, but I watch him. The way his fingers flex over the wheel, strong and steady, like he's not just driving—he's in control of everything around him.

Then, after a long silence, he speaks.

"I know you want revenge," he says, voice measured. "But you should be careful about recording your crimes."

The statement is casual, but it sends a chill through me.

"That's what the coverings and modulator were for," I reply, my voice tight.

"I know," he says with a nod. "It's a good start. But it's not foolproof." He pauses, then glances at me. "Weigh the need to make them suffer against the risk. You've got a list of men to get through. I don't want this catching up to you before you're done."

I don't answer. I don't need to. The warning settles deep, threading itself between the satisfaction and the thrill. Maybe he's right. Maybe I was reckless.

But damn, it felt good.