Coerce, p.11
Coerce, page 11
Fifteen
Ivy
The pain is sharp, especially because I wasn’t expecting it, but it only lasts seconds. Long enough to steal me away from the orgasm I was on the precipice of but he keeps working my clit, refusing to let me go as the pain ebbs and my tears dry on my skin.
The happiness I felt in the car earlier feels like a fleeting memory. Now I don’t know what I feel. Scared for sure, but underneath that fear is something else, something that makes me feel weak and ashamed even though I have no reason to feel that way.
He’s playing my body like an expert. A blank canvas for him to create with and every move he makes shows how skilled an artist he is.
When he pinches my clit and whispers for me to come, I do. I come with so much force it steals the breath from my lungs and the last remaining strength from my body.
Breathing heavy, he pulls back from me and looks into my eyes.
“You are so fucking beautiful. It makes me want to gouge out the eyes of every man who looks at you.”
“Only you can be sweet and psychotic at the same time,” I tease, trying to come off nonchalant but my voice wobbles at my attempt to keep the mood light. I feel apprehensive and vulnerable spread out before him like a sacrificial offering.
“Stick with me, kid, and you’ll see just how right you are.”
Lifting his hand, I see it streaked with blood, making me flush red in embarrassment.
He follows my eyes to see what I’m looking at, a feral grin crossing his handsome face at the sight of my blood smearing his fingers.
He reaches down and grabs something before standing and showing me the knife. I freeze, my heart that had begun to slowly return to normal starts beating wildly out of control.
Before panic has me passing out, he cuts the palm of his free hand and places it over my heart. I know he can feel it thundering under his touch but I can’t control it anymore than I can my rapid breathing.
“My blood for yours,” he utters softly, looking into my eyes once more. There is something profound about his words. It’s a vow, a blood oath spoken by a man who doesn’t know how to quit. Even after everything that’s happened, it isn’t until he utters those words that I understand his intent. His bloody palm print might as well be a collar around my neck. This man owns me now. There will be no reprieve, no push and pull. He will take what he wants when he wants and I’m supposed to just say “yes, sir.”
The problem is, I’ve never been a yes sir kind of girl, outside of my job that is. I can be argumentative just for the sake of it. I can be stubborn and honestly, a little bit of a brat.
This man is dangerous in so many ways it’s not even funny. We’ve moved well past red flags and straight to white flags of surrender. He wants to conquer me and part of me wants to let him. The other part though, the stubborn, sassy, bratty part isn’t willing to admit defeat just yet.
Pulling his hand away, I see the blood staining my skin as well as the white lace of my bustier and shake my head at his alpha need to show his ownership of me. But when he offers me his hand, still smeared with my blood, I’m reminded I own him too.
I let him help me off the table as he pulls off his suit jacket and drapes it around my shoulders. He unbuttons his white shirt and pulls it free, leaving himself in a white T-shirt.
He takes his jacket back, slipping it on before helping me into his shirt, buttoning it up, and leaving the top two buttons open.
It comes to mid-thigh on me, long enough to preserve a little of my modesty but not much. I look like I’m just getting up for breakfast after being fucked, and for once I’m grateful there is nobody around.
“If that was our first date, I’m not really sure I’ll survive a second one,” I admit, making him laugh. But I’m not joking.
He slides his knife back into a holster that I never realized he was wearing and pulls out his phone, texting someone before sliding it back in its pocket.
“Never been much for dating, Ivy, but that was the best first date I’ve ever had, bar none. Now let’s get out of here so I can feed you since I ruined dinner.”
“I’m not dressed—”
“We’ll order Italian and eat it in my bed. You need to eat and then rest. I’ll call the doctor and arrange for her to come over tomorrow after we’ve had breakfast, okay?”
He holds his hand out to me. It’s one of those moments you know with unwavering clarity that you are about to make a decision that will change everything forever. Worse, I know I’m making the wrong decision. My mama always said, “Never stay with a man who makes you cry more than he makes you laugh.” Atlas Monroe has nothing but heartbreak written all over him. Knowing this, I still reach out and take his hand, feeling like I just sold my soul to the devil.
He tugs me toward him, pressing a kiss to my forehead. He wraps his arm around my shoulder, tucking me into him as he leads me to the door I entered through.
We don’t pass a soul on the way down the steps, which I find odd in a city this size and a restaurant this popular. It was the same when Kenzo escorted me up.
“It’s so quiet.”
“Staff only on this side of the building and they know to stay away from my private terrace unless I summon them.”
“Wait, you own this place too? Is that what you are, a restaurateur?”
“Among other things. My main job is locating missing people.”
I pause, making him stop for a second too.
“You find missing people? That’s…that’s so random and nice,” I tell him, not feeling that jibe with everything else.
He chuckles and pulls me along.
“Not quite as noble as you’re thinking, Ivy. I find people who have reason to run— adulterers, cheaters, con men, and swindlers. I’m paid big bucks to find them, return them, and to keep my mouth shut about what I find out, even if it ends up splashed across the news.”
“Wow, that’s crazy. And you’re good at your job?”
“I am. Like I said, it’s made me a lot of money over the years and I’ve invested wisely. I own a bunch of properties and many businesses. Enough that I don’t actually ever have to work again. Neither would my children or my grandchildren but—”
“You enjoy it,” I finish for him.
He nods but says nothing else as we take the elevator down the rest of the way to the ground floor, where we make our way out back.
“I can’t believe you took me on a date here and hid me from everyone else.” I laugh lightly but it’s a little forced. “Is this so nobody could see me?”
“I’m not ashamed of you, Ivy, but there was no way I could sit through an evening of you in that dress with that hair and that smile and not kill every other man in the room for watching you. I wanted you to have your date but getting out of a murder rap is tedious,” he jokes. Or at least I think he’s joking. I tense but when he smiles down at me, I relax. The asshole had me going there for a minute.
When we get to the car, Kenzo is outside waiting, which surprises me and makes me want to crawl into a hole. God, this is embarrassing.
He nods at me but doesn’t say anything about my state of undress, thankfully, as I climb in the car.
Atlas grips the edge of the door as he gets in and Kenzo’s eyes zero in on the red smear, making my stomach cramp.
This cannot be happening.
“You got a little something on your hand, boss,” he remarks.
“Hmm…I know. It was dessert.”
“Was it good?”
Oh my god. Stop talking. Please stop talking.
“Oh yeah but then I always did have a thing for cherries.”
I’m gonna kill him in his sleep.
The smell of bacon rouses me from my sleep like it would any mere mortal. I stretch and yawn before pausing. Bacon? Who the…? I open my eyes and remember why it feels like I’m lying on a cloud and not being stabbed in the ribs by angry springs.
I stayed with Atlas last night after he took me out for a meal and turned me into a human buffet.
Sitting up, I swing my legs off the side of the bed and climb to my feet before padding on silent footsteps across the thick luxurious cream-colored carpet to the bathroom.
When we came back last night, Atlas ran me a bath and let me soak before washing every inch of my body, including my hair. I can’t remember anyone washing my hair before, not even my mother.
How a man can go from fucking me with a knife to washing my hair, I don’t know. But the dichotomy of those two acts sums up Atlas perfectly. He’s like Jekyll and Hyde. There is a sweetness inside him, a side that wants to nurture and protect, behind the savage ruthlessness he shows the world. But I’m not sure there is an equal balance.
I pee quickly, thankful there is no blood when I wipe. I know I didn’t have sex, but Atlas’s fingers are nothing to joke about when the only other thing that’s ever been inside me is a tampon. I had built it up in my head over the years, expecting lots of pain and blood. Having not had parents around for those kinds of questions I had relied on girlfriends’ horror stories, which made the whole process either sound like something out of a fairytale romance or a snippet of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
Mine was quite frankly, neither. There had been a sharp pinch, and a smear of blood, and that was it.
I wasn’t cramping and I was only a tiny bit tender and that likely had more to do with the hardness of the knife handle than the thick fingers that invaded me.
I didn’t feel any different, and until a dick was actually inside me, I was still technically a virgin. At least this way, when we do finally have sex, I won’t stress about the pain, knowing what to expect.
Whether that sex is with Atlas remains to be seen.
I flush the toilet and wash my hands, checking out my face in the mirror above the sink. I look a little pale today but tiredness will do that to a person and I have not been sleeping great lately.
I decide on a quick shower before the doctor arrives. I might not be one hundred percent on board yet with Atlas, but that doesn’t mean I want to take unnecessary chances.
I don’t take long, my stomach eager to seek out the bacon. I dry off and head back to the bedroom to look for something to borrow.
Opting for a plain white button-up shirt, much like the one I wore last night, I slip one from a hanger and slide it on before moving to the top drawer of the dresser. I freeze when I see a gun on top of his boxer shorts.
“Looking for something?”
I jump and spin around when Atlas’s voice calls from behind me.
“Erm…some boxers, if that’s okay. I don’t have anything and…” my voice drifts off as he walks toward me and reaches around me to close the drawer.
“You don’t need them. I like knowing you’re naked under my shirt.”
“Okay,” I agree softly, not knowing what else to say right now.
“My line of work is dangerous. I carry a gun and a knife at all times when I leave the house. When I’m home, I have guns stashed all over so I am always within reach of one if I need it.”
“Okay,” I repeat and swallow because what else can I say?
“You’re scared. Why?”
I shake my head. “Not scared. Surprised. I’ve never been around guns before. My parents were pacifists and were very anti-guns. This is the closest I’ve ever been to one.”
“Let’s see if we can keep it that way. Now, let me give you a quick tour before we eat.”
I nod, take his hand, and follow him around his colossal house as he points out what each room is used for.
Aside from having more bedrooms than needed for a single guy, it also has a movie theater, a home gym, and a pool. It’s like a hotel compared to my place, making me feel a little overwhelmed. I’m not trying to undervalue myself, I know there is more to life than money, but it’s hard not to feel a little intimidated.
“This is my office but I don’t work from home much and that’s pretty much it, bar the garage and the utility room, which I’m sure you’re not overly excited about seeing.”
I laugh and shake my head. “I’m good,” I assure him. We turn to head back to the kitchen when I realize we missed the door at the end of the hall.
“What’s that?”
He follows where I’m pointing. “Ah, that’s the only room here that’s off-limits. It’s where I store all my clients’ confidential information and shit. They don’t want a digital footprint left behind so it’s old school paper.”
“But isn’t that…I don’t know and I’m not saying your clients are criminals, but they sound…ethically challenged.” He snorts at that but I continue.
“Wouldn’t that count as evidence if it fell into the wrong hands?”
“It would, but I keep a single copy, which is easily destroyed. To get to it, they would have to get through my security system and trust me, that’s never going to happen.”
I shrug. Seems like a stupid risk to me, but what do I know?
“Are you going to feed me now? I’m starving.”
“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?”
We make our way back to the kitchen, where Atlas lifts me to sit on the end of the island.
“You know I could have just as easily sat on one of the stools.” I chuckle.
“I like you close.” He presses a kiss to my lips before moving over to the stove where he has been keeping the bacon warm.
“So you do cook.”
“Don’t get excited. I make a mean breakfast, I can grill a steak, and I make the world’s best grilled cheese sandwiches but that’s as far as my culinary skills go. The housekeeper does most of it but I gave her the week off as her daughter just had a baby.”
“Aww, that’s sweet.”
“It’s a pain in the ass because I’m spoiled but I can order food in so I guess I’ll cope.”
“Poor baby.” I grin, liking this playful side of him.
I watch him plate up bacon, eggs, and toast and set both plates next to each other at the table.
“Do you want coffee or juice?”
“Juice, please. I’ll be hitting the coffee hard later as I’m on the late shift tonight. I don’t want to start too early or it makes me jittery.
“Do you always work weekends?”
“I alternate, but this isn’t my usual shift. I’m covering for someone else as she’s sick and I need the money for a new car.”
“Why do you need a new car?”
“Because mine was stolen,” I remind him.
“Yeah, but why do you need one? You have Pete.”
“Atlas, Pete is your driver. I can manage just fine without him.”
“No, I like him collecting you. It’s safer.”
I sigh, knowing he’s thinking about the night I got grabbed outside The Drift.
“Look, how about we put a pin in this for now and come back to it at a later date. I don’t have enough money to buy a car right now and won’t for a while so it’s a moot point. Now let me enjoy my food, which looks delicious by the way—” He kisses me, cutting off my words before lifting me and carrying me to the table and placing me gently on one of the chairs.
“I just want you safe,” he tells me before turning and pouring me juice.
I say nothing to that because he’s being sweet and I don’t want to ruin the mood. I shove a piece of bacon into my mouth instead and ignore the elephant in the room.
That elephant being Atlas’s need to control every little thing in both his life and mine.
Sixteen
Ivy
I run my fingers over the incision and stare aimlessly out the window in a world of my own.
“Stop playing with it. You’ll make it sore,” Atlas says from beside me, making my hand drop to my lap.
“It’s fine. It’s still numb. I didn’t even realize I was doing it.”
“How long until I can fuck you bare?” he asks boldly, making me look at him and scowl.
“Because of where I am in my cycle, I’m covered already. I was going to go on the pill but the doctor suggested the implant because it eliminates the possibility of forgetting to take it and with my brain always on a million things it made sense. I just didn’t expect her to do it there and then.”
“Money talks, Ivy. She knew when I called her what it was for so she was likely equipped for every scenario.”
“Still, I’d have liked to have been a little more clothed to have open surgery.” Okay, so a small incision made with a local anesthetic isn’t really open surgery, but I was only wearing Atlas’s shirt. Nobody wants to be in that situation without at least wearing panties.
“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and assume that she thought we’re having or are about to have sex just from you getting the implant in the first place. Plus she’s a doctor. I doubt it was even a blip on some of the shit she deals with,” he tells me with a smirk.
“Don’t you out-logic me, Atlas.”
He laughs loudly, making me turn to look at him. Something about the moment resonates with me. My mind takes a snapshot, knowing this moment will be one I’ll look back on a lot. Especially if things turn bad between us because seriously, super intense Atlas looks positively lickable when he laughs like that.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re hot but when you laugh, it makes my brain kind of melt,” I admit, making him look at me in surprise before turning back to the road.
“Not had many reasons to laugh until you came along.”
“I’m getting that,” I reply softly, making it my mission to see just how often I can get him to do it. With that thought comes the startling reality that I’m going to do this. I’m going to give whatever this thing is between us a chance. Maybe we’ll fail and maybe Atlas will ruin me for all men who come after. But if I don’t give it a shot, I know for damn sure if I don’t at least try, Atlas Monroe will haunt my dreams as the one who got away.
