Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
I genuinely hope I’m the one who makes her regret it.
There’s something satisfying about sliding behind the wheel of my car. Of course, it’s nothing like what I’m used to—late model, no frills—but it runs. If I want to make sure Leni is safe from Deborah and people like her, I can’t keep going around on foot. Nothing matters more than that. According to the last email Colt sent me, it doesn’t seem like he knows the first thing about what’s going on in her head. But I do now, and the thought sends another rush of satisfaction washing over me. I know something he doesn’t. I can help her, try to make up for all the harm we caused.
Taking a shortcut, I’m in time to see Leni get out of Piper’s car and hurry into the apartment building where she lives with Colt. My hands tighten around the wheel as I imagine what goes on in there. The life they live together. A life I can’t be part of.
For a second, it almost seems like a good idea to get out of the car and go up there. I mean, Colt doesn’t believe I’m dead anyway. It wouldn’t come as a huge surprise to him.
But it would to Leni. How can I explain it? Sorry, I figured it was better to stay away so I wouldn’t hurt you anymore? Because all I want, all I crave, is the pleasure of your humiliation?
This isn’t the same as the shit Deborah pulls. We are not the same person; our needs do not come from the same place. I would never do anything to embarrass or hurt Leni in front of other people, and if my thoughts tonight are any indication, I would happily kill anyone who would try to make her feel small or less than. I would happily be her protector until the day I actually die.
But humiliating and using her one-on-one? In private? That is an entirely different story.
I need to get out of here now. The temptation is too much to resist, and I have already resisted it for months. I don’t know how much longer my self-control can hold up. Being this close to her is only making it harder for me to stay away. It’s for the best that I stay away. I’m doing her a favor.
Maybe I’m just like Dad, after all. I must be. Why else would I drive around imagining all the filthy, vile things I would do to Leni if I had the chance now? I know it’s wrong. I know it would really hurt her in the end. But I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t.
I know I should, but my mind keeps coming back to the memories. Being inside her—so tight, sometimes to the point of resistance, but I always worked my way inside, didn’t I? Eventually, she always succumbed. Even if her mind didn’t want me, her body did.
Those memories are all I have to go on now, being in solitude the way I am. They’re not the pleasant sort of memories a normal person would look back on. Memories of good times, laughter, happiness. Warm memories of being together. No, I’d rather replay every one of her pained grunts, every one of her groans as she sucked my cock with tears running down her face and saliva dripping off her chin.
I must be exactly like him. Unfixable, broken for good. Maybe it’s in my genes, something I can’t change. Maybe I’ll have to fight against this forever… unless I give in. I could find someone. A prostitute, maybe, some whore who’d be willing to let me do whatever I want so long as I could rid myself of these terrible cravings. It would be easy, and I have the money.
But it wouldn’t be Leni, so it wouldn’t be the same. I’d probably only end up more frustrated than I was in the first place. No, this is my hell. This is my punishment for what I’ve done to her. Spending the rest of my life wishing I could do it again, caring too much about her to let myself do it.
It’s almost enough to make me want to hit the gas pedal hard. To tear down the street and turn the wheel once the right wall or tree came into view. It’s either that or accept the fact that this is my fate. Living in limbo for the rest of my life. Wanting, but not being able to touch. Yearning for something that I know is wrong and should never be.
“Fuck you,” I whisper, and I’m not sure who I’m talking to. Myself? My fucked-up father who made me this way?
A glance to my right reminds me there’s something else I planned on doing tonight, when it would be late enough that I could get away with it. A bouquet of lilies on the passenger seat. They were always Mom’s favorite.