Empire of Desire(Empire #1)(77)

There are a lot of things that I want to shout at the top of the world. Like how much Nate and I are compatible and how much we can easily do an activity together without clashing. I want everyone to see that I belong with him, that I never felt as peaceful as when I’m lying in his arms.

That I never felt as beautiful as when he fucks me like a madman.

Sometimes, I take sneaky pictures of him; of his nude back when he cooks naked—yes, he totally does that sometimes, and he sleeps naked, too, because clothes bother him, or more accurately, his cock. My perverted side kind of wished I knew that information before.

But I digress. Slightly.

Those aren’t the only pictures I take of him, though. I’m a collector of everything Nate, remember? That means I have a collection to keep alive and happy. So I sneak a selfie here and there when I’m lying on his lap and others when I sleep on his chest.

My personal favorite, however, was when I woke up and he had his hand around my throat. I was so wet that my fingers shook when I took the picture.

“Are you posting any of these?” he said in a half-sleepy voice while his eyes were still closed.

I startled, throwing my phone under the pillow. “W-what?”

His eyes met mine and there was so much light in them considering how dark they are. “The pictures you take religiously, Gwyneth. Do you post them?”

“You…knew?”

“Of course, I knew. You’re not exactly subtle.”

My cheeks and ears burned. “And here I thought I was being sneaky.”

“Not enough.” His hold tightened on my throat. “You still didn’t answer my question. Do you post anything?”

“Maybe you should get a social media account and see for yourself.”

“Gwyneth.” His voice hardened, taking on a warning tone. “If I find an inappropriate picture of you anywhere…”

“I wouldn’t do that. Besides, there’s something we do now that’s more fun than inappropriate pictures.”

Her narrowed his eyes and I could tell he was getting impatient by the way he held me by the throat. “And what is that?”

“Thirst traps.”

“The only thirst trap you’ll be posting is my hand around this fucking throat.”

I don’t remember the rest of the conversation because he mounted me and fucked me hard and fast—without releasing my throat.

Despite my big talk, I never posted any of our pictures together, though. Not only am I paranoid about the press hurting him in any way, but I’m also kind of selfish. I don’t want to share anything Nate with the world.

Sue me.

Anyway, I’m now at a hearing where he’s the attorney in a civil lawsuit and I’m sitting a few seats behind him because he already has one of his associate lawyers with him. That’s okay, though. I’m here, and I’m watching Nate be a lawyer. That’s such a rare occasion nowadays since he deals with large corporations behind the scenes.

So seeing him in his sharp suit in the middle of the courtroom makes me a little giddy. Okay, a lot. I helped him put on that suit this morning—the tie, to be specific. I might have an unhealthy obsession with it.

And all of him, actually.

He’s been fucking me more than anyone should and in positions I didn’t even know existed. Sometimes it’s on the kitchen counter when I’m trying to bake cupcakes. Other times, it’s in the shower, where he’ll come in unannounced and take me against the wall. Oftentimes, it’s in his office, on his desk, on his sofa. Anywhere, really.

I’m as unsatiated as he is, because whenever he’s not touching me, I act like a brat just so he’ll order me to sit on his lap or bend over on his desk.

It’s a high and I don’t want to reach the peak. But it’s not only about the sex. It’s how we eat together, cook together, and he indulges in all the activities I come up with to find him a hobby.

He doesn’t even tell me the music is loud anymore. He just stands there and watches me dance before he scoops me up and fucks me.

And it’s not fair that my favorite band is now associated with him. Whenever I hear my playlist, I think of Nate fucking me. Whenever I eat my ice cream or drink my milkshake, I think of him bringing them to me.

He hasn’t only robbed my body and attacked my soul, but he’s also coming after my heart. My stupid vanilla heart that loses flavor every time he doesn’t kiss me.

I try to pretend it doesn’t bother me and that I’m completely fine with just sex and companionship.

It doesn’t matter, okay? I’m using him as much as he’s using me.

Lie.

You’re a damn liar, Gwen.

I squash the voice and focus on Nate because he’s talking now, and holy shit, how can he sound even more authoritative than normal? Everyone’s attention is zoomed in on him and I’m definitely not the only one who’s hardly blinking. No one wants to miss a moment of his show—that’s what it feels like right now. A one-man show and we’re all witnesses.

He’s always had the type of blinding charisma that makes it difficult to look away.

Still, I force myself to open my notebook and take notes. I jot down points in his speech, the way he cross-examined a witness. One day, I’m going to be the one up there and he’ll be out here watching me. With Dad. When he wakes up.