Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I take a breath and crush the impulse, forcing my way through the moment of weakness. Social media is anathema to me, and even if I created a fake account to stalk her, the information I would glean would be superficial. I’ve seen into Abigail’s soul, and I won’t be satisfied with a falsely cheery public persona that she might present to her friends online.
I will learn her secrets in person. She will surrender each one to me, until I possess her completely.
I return to our messages instead of opening the browser.
Dane
I’d like to surprise you. I finish work at five, so I can pick you up at six-thirty.
I need her to share her address willingly. Then I can come see her whenever I want.
The paintbrush dips between her lips again, and she grazes the tip with her teeth.
I nearly growl as my lust surges, but I manage to cling to my iron control.
My phone buzzes, and her address appears on my screen.
Triumph heats my chest, and I don’t have to hide the savage edge of my grin; I don’t have to wear my mask for anyone in this moment. I’m fully myself in a way I can only be with Abigail.
She’s not ready to see me like this yet, but one day, she’ll moan my name and tremble for me while I hold her with cruel passion.
I type out a confirmation of our plan to meet and then set my phone down, allowing her the quiet time she needs to paint. I won’t distract her again, not when I’m burning with curiosity to see what will spill out onto her canvas.
Time slips away as I watch her paint. It takes a while for the feverish brushstrokes to coalesce into a nature scene. For a short while, I’m mildly disappointed; I’d hoped for another dark fantasy tonight.
But then the elegantly draped branches of live oaks take shape, dripping with lacy Spanish moss. Battery Park is bathed in waning sunlight, syrupy and golden where it filters through the rich green canopy.
She’s painting our date.
This is far more intimate than an erotic scene. Those paintings reflect the dark desires she shares with GentAnon, but this view from the gazebo is what she shares with me.
I forget all about sipping my Macallan as she continues to work late into the night. My full attention is harnessed by her vision of what we shared in the park this evening.
The white railing that surrounds the gazebo is barely visible, a subtle frame at the bottom of the painting. Two hands are entwined atop it, and I recognize the familiar shape of her slender fingers beneath my own.
She might’ve run from our kiss, but Abigail is clearly still thinking about the allure of our physical connection.
By the time she sets her paintbrush down for the night, I’m buzzing with a strange high—it’s definitely not from the alcohol I barely touched. My blood thrums through my veins, and desire makes my blood simmer. It’s not purely carnal desire; I want this woman. All of her. Body, heart, and soul.
When she disappears into her tiny bedroom for the night, I briefly consider relocating to my larger, more expensive house across town. But I’m craving to be close to her, so I choose to stay in the ramshackle property I bought just so I can watch over her.
I pass her landscapes as I walk through the entry hall and living room. There’s nearly a score more in my bedroom—a cramped space that barely fits the high-quality king-size bed. This place might be rundown, but it doesn’t mean I have to be uncomfortable.
I fall back onto the Egyptian cotton sheets and stare at my trophies: the stunning paintings I’ve purchased from the tourists who bought them from her in the market. I keep her stormiest works in my bedroom. It’s the only glimpse at her inner darkness that’s evident in her otherwise lovely art depicting the natural world.
My cock is still hard from watching her toy with that damn paintbrush all night, and my craving for her is keen enough to cut.
I should let her sleep, but I’m too selfish to hesitate. I want her, and she will meet my needs.
I pick up my phone and navigate to Eroticlit, immediately finding our months’ long private messaging thread.
GentAnon
Wake up, little dove. I have need of my pretty pet.
The tick beside her screenname remains stubbornly gray.
I give her five minutes to see that I’ve messaged her.
My gut twists into knots, and my chest heats.
GentAnon
Answer me. Your silence is rude, and rudeness will be punished.
A green tick mark. Three bouncing dots.
They disappear, then appear again.
And again.
My fingers are tight enough that my knuckles are white around the phone.
CagedBird
I’m sorry. I can’t tonight.
I taste copper on my tongue, and I realize I gnashed my teeth hard enough to cut the inside of my cheek.