Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“And you aren’t going back to what you were doing.”
She runs her hands over her head before pressing her fingers into her eyes as if she’s in pain.
“It’s fucking dangerous out there, Lauren.”
“It’s fucking dangerous in here, Angel.”
For a split second I think she means inside my house, but realization dawns on me that she means inside her head before I can argue that I’ll protect her at any cost.
We get rough when we fuck. We both enjoy it, but she has to know by now that there’s no real danger where I’m concerned… unless she runs.
“I have to work,” she repeats.
“You don’t.”
Those two words encompass everything. I’ll take care of any fucking need she has, but I’m not fool enough to think she’s referencing money.
“What about you?” she growls. “Are you going to stop working?”
“Not a fucking chance,” I say before I can really think about her question.
“You don’t need to work,” she argues. “I bet you have more than enough money to last this lifetime.”
I clamp my mouth closed.
“Money isn’t the issue. I’m not going to stop working.”
She’s somehow managed to turn this back on me, and I fucking hate the way it makes me feel.
“It’s dangerous,” she snaps.
“I can handle myself.” I step closer to her, but she doesn’t inch back.
It becomes very clear we aren’t playing one of our games, but that doesn’t keep me from picturing how I’ll get her to change her fucking mind. It’s instinctual to get the upper hand on her.
“If I’m meant to stay, if I’m meant to be owned, I can’t risk losing that.”
Her words make me freeze.
She’s giving me an ultimatum, telling me exactly what she needs to agree to what I’ve insisted on.
I expect her sacrifice, but she expects mine in return.
“Do you really want me here twenty-four-seven?” The question carries an edge of menace because it’s taking all I have not to fuck her right here.
She fucking wants this. This is her way of telling me so.
I’m asking her to give up on the idea of going out and getting herself hurt, and she’s asking the same from me. She’s asking me if I think she’s enough.
“Fine.”
Her eyes widen, but then she looks suspicious.
“Really? It’s that easy?”
“That easy.”
“I don’t fucking believe you.”
“Only because you’ve never met anyone you can fully trust until now.”
She watches my face for a long moment before speaking. “I’ll never fully trust you.”
A wide grin spreads across my face. “Smart girl.”
“I’ll end up running,” she confesses. “I won’t be able to help myself.”
I think I can appreciate her honesty, but it won’t change anything.
“I can’t fucking wait. I’ll fuck you right into the dirt where I catch you.”
Chapter 38
Lauren
That itchy feeling I’ve suffered all my life never leaves me, but I’ve gotten used to not scratching at it the last several weeks.
Instead of fighting the lows when they start, I give in to them. It’s been taking less time to get past the darkness. I blame that fucking podcast Angel forced me to listen to for the suggestion.
Angel leaves me alone now. The first time he found me that way, he tried to fuck me through it. As much as I enjoyed the pain he offered, it did nothing to help. I thanked him by nearly clawing his eyes out. I was fucking rabid.
When he comes to find me in the morning now and I’m still in the bed, he walks right back out. He doesn’t say a word or try to urge me to feel better. I don’t know if he suffers from some of the same types of demons as I do, but it’s clear he understands to a certain point.
I’ll never tell him that I’m grateful for it, but I think he knows I need the solitude as much as I need the other elements of whatever it is we have. When I get back to feeling normal, I suck him off harder as a thank you for letting me live in my darkness. I’d never actually use the words because it still feels like handing him too much of me.
I press a finger into one of the bruises on my arm, smiling at the sharp burst of pain. His entire handprint is there, a kaleidoscope of reds, blues, and purples. I sigh with as much contentment as I can manage, but it never lasts long.
I haven’t left since I arrived set on stabbing him in the chest. I literally haven’t stepped off the front porch. I’ve thought about it many times, but that makes my skin crawl more than the darkness that sets in.
Angel runs the errands and grabs food.
I use nearly every second he’s gone, which has only been a handful of times in the last couple of weeks, to search his house high and low for my sister’s things. I’ve tried to convince myself that I’m only here for those two things, that when I find them, I can leave.