All the Ways You Own Me

My plan was simple.

There was no real grudge between us, and we had just slept together a few times. As long as I could make Emerson tired of me, I could pack up and crawl back to Colt.

When I opened my eyes the next morning, I saw myself dressed neatly in a work uniform. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming.

After living like a spoiled millionaire for so many years, suddenly being told to work gave me the weird feeling of being back in school. I figured maybe this was some office roleplay, so I walked over, bent down, and started to unzip his pants.

However, Emerson suddenly scooped me up and dropped me onto his chair.

I frowned. "You want to do it here? That's fine, but we can only go once."

One minute later, I threw down the pen. "Emerson, what the hell is wrong with you?"

What kind of person would keep a lover around just to make them work?

What kind of person would ignore their lover and bury themselves in paperwork?

I thought Emerson was seriously messed up.

Emerson frowned and picked up the pen, shoving it back into my hand. "Focus."

He still had patience, but I could no longer stand staring at those dense numbers and charts.

I leaned over and suggestively kissed his fingers. When he did not react, I bit him lightly.

Emerson grabbed my mouth and murmured, "You need to learn how to be gentler with that mouth of yours."

Just when the tension started building, I noticed the pen in his hand. The paint was chipped, yet someone had carefully touched it up.

You could tell it had been well cared for.

We both froze for a moment.

I realized that it was the pen I had given Emerson as a half-hearted 20th birthday gift. I could not believe he had kept it after all these years.

I did not know what to feel, and just as I was about to say something sentimental to smooth things over, Emerson snatched the pen away and mercilessly locked me out. I stood outside the door and cursed every vile word I knew.

I gave up. My pants were practically halfway down, and all he cared about was some cheap pen.

I had grabbed 50 dollars from his pocket just now. I hopped in a cab with the money and told the driver Colt's address.

Emerson was cunning, though. While stripping me down last night, he had also swiped my wallet.

I ended up back at Colt's place. He was smoking, like he had known I would come back all along. His eyes, hidden behind the smoke, looked me up and down. He relaxed once he saw I could walk and move around.

"Told you Emerson wasn't interested in you." Colt was wrong.

Last night, Emerson had practically branded the word 'interested' all over my body. I had nearly thought my life would end right there.

Without wasting words, I lit a cigarette with his lighter and barked orders at him. "Close the curtains. I haven't slept all night, and I'm dead tired."

Colt looked like he wanted to laugh as he touched my face, staring at the bite marks on my neck. "Mr. Henson, do you remember you're bankrupt?"

I hated the way he looked at me, so I blew smoke right in his face. "You don't say."

Colt was my nemesis. After going bankrupt, I had nowhere to turn. Everyone wanted to kick me while I was down.

When I nearly starved to death, I finally knocked on Colt's door. I had a feeling he definitely would not just watch me starve.

He stared at me for ages, then very roughly hauled me back inside. I had guessed right; he did not let me starve. However, he did not make life easy for me either. He turned me into his lackey, and I had to follow him around everywhere every day.

Last time during a business deal, Emerson had his eye on me. To get that shipment, Colt wrapped me up like a package and sent me off.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got, so I deliberately flicked ash onto his hand. "Idiot, did you think sending me to someone else would solve everything?"

I glared at him coldly. "I'm here to settle the score with you."

He did not move, letting my anger wash over him.

His leather chair was too damn comfortable, and I was exhausted after everything. Half-asleep, I felt someone touch my thigh.

Emerson had played me too hard the night before, so I instinctively thought it was him. I clutched the arm and started pleading, "Not again, please."