Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
But I can’t stop watching. Nothing in the world could pull me away now.
I settle for closing the lid on the toilet and taking a seat, glued to every move she makes. “Look at my dirty little angel. Acting so seductive.”
Almost as an afterthought, she soaps up her hands before running them over her throat, her shoulders, and arms. It’s her chest I’m focused on, and soon she rewards my intense stare by taking her tits in her hands and squeezing, running her thumbs around the nipples, and sighing.
This isn’t put on for my sake. I know it. I feel it.
And oh, what I want to do to her. What I want to make her feel. What she went through in the bedroom will be nothing compared to what I have in mind.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come in here with me?” As if to punctuate the question, she turns her back to me, bending slightly at the waist before running her soapy hand through her ass crack. Fuck, I could watch this all day. She is living, breathing porn, and she’s all mine. No one else will ever look at her this way. She will never display her body for anyone but me, the man it belongs to. The man she belongs to.
If I’m not careful, that cold shower will have been for nothing.
“I’ll get your clothes,” I mutter before practically fleeing the room. By the time I return with fresh sweats, she’s finishing up, rinsing quickly now that there’s no reason to linger.
“How was the shower?” I ask, watching her dry off.
She’s endlessly fascinating. Even the most mundane activities take on new meaning. I’m desperate to be a part of her life, to weave every part of her with every part of me.
“Good, but I feel like I got hit by a truck,” she admits with a soft giggle. “But in a good way, if you can imagine being hit by a truck and smiling about it.”
Adorable. Perfect. Mine.
“Come sit with me. I’m starving.” Almost as much as I’m starving for her. Rather than send her back to bed, I gesture to the table separating the living room and kitchen.
Instead of settling for one sandwich, I make two for myself, spreading the peanut butter and jelly thick enough that they threaten to drip out. I haven’t eaten since… before I took her.
How did I forget to eat?
She sits on one of the two wooden chairs at the small, round table, drawing her feet up onto the seat with her. Like this, she looks small, fragile, and so helpless. Every protective instinct in me rears up when I see her that way, looking so young, her blond hair—darker now due to its wetness—hanging against both sides of her face.
Immediately, a wave of self-consciousness swallows me. This cabin is nothing like she’s used to. It’s outdated, the chairs don’t match, and the table is scratched and beaten to shit. It’s a very dull comparison to all she had back home, and I hate it. I hate that I’m comparing myself to those fuckers. Yet I can’t stop myself.
Disdain burns my lips. “I’m sure this doesn’t look like much compared to the life you’re used to living.”
Her gaze goes from moving around, studying, observing, to locking onto mine. The blue of her eyes is brighter now.
“What makes you say that?”
“I see you looking around, and I know you probably have a lot of questions. I also know it’s not much, but it won’t always be this way.”
“I’m not complaining.”
“No, but you deserve more than this. We both know it. I only want to be sure you understand where I’m coming from. I’m not asking you to rough it for the rest of your life.”
I pick up half of my sandwich and take a huge bite, which only inspires another bite. Sometimes I don’t realize how hungry I am until I start eating.
While I chew, she asks, “How did you find this place? Does it belong to you?”
Instantly, my chest goes tight, and the sweet jelly now tastes like nothing. I have to force myself through the process of chewing and swallowing before leaving the rest of it on my plate. “Why do you ask?”
Her head snaps back slightly, her delicate features pinching as she winces. “I was only curious. Isn’t it a natural question to ask? I’m interested.”
“Not everything is for you to know right now.”
“Sorry.” Her voice sounds tiny, tinged with fear, and instantly, I hate myself. There’s still so much she doesn’t know, so much I need to keep from her, but those secrets form a wall between us.
A wall she knocks against without knowing it.
“Why did you do it? I’m sorry,” she’s quick to add, flustered, her face flushing. “I have to know. Why live so far away from everybody who loves you? Why run away and seclude yourself?”