“Wanna feel you when I win the game,” he continues. “Wanna feel how much you own me.” A month ago, Asher stood in front of me, watching me bleed, telling me that he owned me and it seemed like the worst thing in the world. And now, here he is, begging for me to own him. It’s mind-bending. But he was right, though. He does own me, in every sense of the word. I’m a hundred percent Asher’s.
