All the Ways You Own Me

After going bankrupt, I was given away as a gift by my former nemesis, Colt Reyes. My former lover, Emerson Snyder, the one I had played with the most ruthlessly before, now traced his fingers along my face, his hands roaming every inch of my body.

"You sure had a lot of lovers," he said.

I provoked him defiantly, telling him he was the most despicable among all my lovers.

He gave my face a light pat, his suggestive tone dripping with amusement. "That's okay. Now you only need to serve me."

Nothing could be more terrifying than this.

The little lapdog who used to come running at my beck and call had become a powerful figure at the top of the food chain. Somehow, he had found out I was working here and brought a whole crew to take me away.

Emerson Snyder lazily hooked his finger under the chin of the guy in his arms. The move looked intimate, yet his sharp, hawk-like eyes scanned the room without revealing anything.

Even though I tried hard to stay hidden, he instantly found me. I felt like I was targeted by a predator, and a chill ran down my spine.

Emerson chuckled and patted the guy beside him, signalling him to leave. Then, with a cigarette between his fingers, he pointed straight at me, deciding my fate in a single breath.

"I want him."

The smile on Colt Reyes' face faltered for a moment before he looked back at Emerson with a pleasing expression. "Mr. Snyder, he's just a clumsy errand boy, and he might aggravate you by accident. If the one just now wasn't to your liking, we can get you someone else."

Emerson said nothing and crooked his finger at me, beckoning like I was a dog. It was the same gesture I used to make all the time. I knew there was no escape, so I stiffly walked over and lowered my eyes.

Emerson glanced at me, his words sharp and loaded. "This one doesn't know the rules yet."

The moment he finished speaking, someone kicked the back of my knees. I stumbled down, nearly collapsing onto the floor at his feet.

I clenched my teeth and swallowed the curse words that almost slipped out. Emerson savored my somewhat humiliated expression and began gripping my chin just like he had with the other guy.

He asked, "Do you know how to please someone?"

I was about to say no when he suddenly yanked me closer. We were so close that it looked like we might kiss at any second. I could clearly see the mockery in his eyes.

Emerson was obviously still bitter about what happened back then, which was why he was humiliating me like this.

I spoke through gritted teeth. "Mr. Snyder, I'm not into men."

Emerson raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my denial. He pressed his forearm against the back of my neck, keeping me from standing up. "I'm taking this one with me. You'll get that shipment as agreed."

Before I could say anything, everything went black, and I lost consciousness. The last thing I heard before passing out was Emerson's amused voice.

"It's fine, I just want to catch up with him."

However, Emerson's idea of catching up nearly killed me. He looked at my blurred eyes, his tone vicious as he asked, "Do you remember me now?"

When I said I did not, he made me relive those memories over and over again. Emerson stared at me from above. His eyes filled with a mix of lust and hatred that threatened to swallow me whole.

"Right, you had so many lovers... How could you possibly remember me?"

His movements carried a punishing edge.

I grabbed his hair and cursed at him weakly. "My biggest regret was bringing you home, Emerson. If it weren't for me, you'd still be entertaining God-knows-who somewhere."

That part was true. When I first met Emerson, he was a clumsy waiter who spilled wine all over me. He cried, clutched at my leg, and begged me not to report him. He swore he would clean everything up.

Looking into those impossibly dark, clean eyes, I suddenly had a twisted thought. "I won't report you. One million dollars, and spend one night with me."

I was not hurting for money, and I loved the thrill. I especially enjoyed keeping these innocent college boys like little pets, coaxing and playing with them.

Looking at his faded, overwashed shirt, I knew he would agree.

Sure enough, Emerson looked at me once and ended up in my bed that very night.

During the worst year of our games, even though I was the one controlling him, he would turn around and cry, begging me not to throw him away.

Those tear-filled eyes overlapped perfectly with the sharp, predatory gaze staring at me now.

Emerson licked away my tears and whispered, "Now you'll never be able to throw me away again."

I let out a laugh and weakly tugged at his hair. "Then go ahead and try."