03: I Own You, Raine.

RAINE’S POV.

Despite suspecting that Cyril was gay for the last few months, a part of me had wanted this reaction for too long.

His hand slipped lower, past my belly, under the band of my bikini bottoms.

My breath hitched. “Cyril…”

My nails dug into his shoulder as a single finger slid between my folds, and my body trembled. 

His lips were against my ear now. “Your pussy is just like you. Needy and naughty.”

Heat rushed through me, and I could feel more liquid gushing out through my pussy.

Shamelessly, I wrapped my fingers around Cyril’s strong arms for support as his fingers pushed past my walls. 

Cyril’s fingers traced slow, torturous circles around my clit. His gaze locked on me as if he were watching for something. Then, with a slight shift, he pressed down.

A raw moan slipped from my throat before I could stop it. “Fuck!”

His smirk deepened. “So sensitive.” 

I bit down on my lip, my breath ragged. His fingers moved again—circling, rubbing, pulling me deeper into a warmth that pulsed beneath my skin. And then, without warning, he slips another finger inside me. 

A sharp gasp broke out of me as my walls clenched around him, my back arching.

Cyril exhaled, his satisfaction evident in the way his grip firmed. “Definitely a little needy girl.”

I choked on a moan as he added another finger and increased his speed. 

“Oh my god!” My body clenched as the heat built inside my lower belly and spread really fast to every inch of my body.

“So tight.” He murmured. “So fucking wet.”

I couldn’t speak… I couldn't think. My thighs were shaking, and my breath came out in short gasps. 

“Is this what you wanted from him?” Cyril asked as he pressed his thumb against my clit and rubbed. 

A sharp cry fell from my lips, but he didn’t stop. He fucked me faster, his fingers stroking deep, his thumb circling my sensitive bud again and again. 

I was a mess already, and his fingers made wet noises against my soaked pussy. The pressure in my stomach coiled tighter, each stroke sending another tremor through me. My toes curled, my nails raking against his chest. 

Then, all at once, it hit. A blinding wave of pleasure crashed over me. My legs shook violently as the orgasm ripped through me. I cried out, my walls clenching against his fingers.

Cyril didn’t stop moving. He kept stroking, dragging it out, prolonging the sensation until I was a trembling, whimpering mess against him. Then, finally, he pulled away.

I managed to steady myself, my back pressing against the wall as my breath came in uneven gasps. My body still vibrated, but Cyril remained completely composed. He straightened himself with ease. 

“Don't think I'm always going to indulge you.“ his voice is stern and when I managed to catch my breath and look up at him, I see that his forehead is creased with a frown.

“For as long as you are in my estate, under my care, it’s my rules, Raine.”

I should have some silly comeback for him. I had played this game well enough. Yet, staring at his fingers that were still coated with my juices, I have zero comebacks.

His lips curled slightly, and I was certain he was satisfied. Yet, just as he walked some distance, Cyril stopped and turned slightly.

“Also, you can’t leave the estate or have any guests over in the next forty-eight hours. You can use all that time to look through the college brochures I prepared for you.”

Wait… what?

For a second, I’m frozen in time, and all I can do is stare as Cyril made his way back into the main house.

Cocky bastard.

If he thought that giving me one orgasm was all it needed for him to lord over me, then I was going to remind him

I grabbed my phone and stormed back into the main house. In the last year, I had tried to stay off the tabloids as much as I could.

I was twenty now and being a reckless child star was no longer cute. Besides, having Cyril’s name dragged into any of my scandals made me a little uncomfortable.

At thirty-one, Cyril’s legacy was set in stone, and I always disliked those comments that used me as a way of hurting him.

He wasn’t even my father. He just had to deal with taking care of me because I had a mother that couldn’t.

So yes, I didn’t like the idea of doing this, but if it was going to teach Cyril a lesson after the way I came apart for him, then this was the only way.

Besides, he had a fantastic PR team. I’m sure they could handle this.

The moment I was in my room, I packed up the design book and pencils I had left on my bed and started typing on my I*******m story.

 ‘Be the first husband of Raine Mercer. Must meet these requirements: no fear of commitment, must be able to handle a woman like me, must tolerate my unpredictability. Applications close at midnight.’

I can’t help but giggle as I imagine Cyril’s expression once he saw my post. I read it over one last time before hitting the send button.

After staring at my phone’s screen for about five minutes, I pushed it aside and grabbed my design book. I had to get these designs to my team before the week ended, so maybe Cyril’s ban was going to do some good.

Designing was my first love. Even before my crush on Cyril. Even before I knew how messed up the world I had to grow up in was, designing was the first thing that made sense to me.

Just as I added finishing touches to the first dress, my door slammed open and Cyril’s gloomy figure stormed into my room.

His eyes are narrowed into slits and I can tell that he already ran his hands through his hair more than once before he made his way here.

The satisfaction I feel from seeing how affected Cyril was should be illegal.

“Take it down.”

I tilted my head and blinked twice, “Take what down?”

His jaw clenched slightly as he gave me a stern glare. “The post, Raine.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “That’s my account, I can post whatever I want.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re not getting married.”

I raised my brow. “Oh? And why not? I’m legal. If I want to leave your house and start a life with someone else, I can.”

Cyril's face darkened, and he ran his left hand through his loose curls. 

“You can’t.” He finally said.

“Stop telling me what I can and cannot do,” I said, clenching my teeth. 

“Legally, you’re just my guardian until I turn twenty-one. You have no say over my choices.”

I saw something flash in his eyes as he stepped even closer, and I gulped as he leaned down.

“I’m not your guardian, Raine.” His voice is low and controlled, and his next words hit me like a gunshot.

“I own you.”

The smile on my face disappeared as I searched Cyril’s face for a smirk or a teasing smile.

Yet, even as he straightened up and took two steps back, his expression remained serious.

“What?” My voice was barely a whisper. “What did you just say?”

“I own you, Raine.” He repeated the same words like they were nothing.

“Indie sold you to me.”