Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I storm from the bathroom, but being in the bedroom just isn’t enough. I need more distance. I have to leave the room completely, of course making sure it’s locked before I go. I’m diligent about making sure that the door closes behind me, that I don't step away until I hear the mechanism whir inside, ensuring that it's locked.
The clock on the wall reads two a.m. and I'm honestly surprised that it's been two hours since I came out here to get that toy. It seems like it was over too fast. And although she gave me everything I was expecting, it somehow has ended up not being enough.
That toy has been on my brain all day since it was delivered around noon. Just knowing that it was in the house has taunted me beyond measure. I thought I'd be able to hold out longer than half a day to show it to her. But now I'm glad that I didn't. It was spectacular. Better than I ever could have imagined. And I'm a greedy fuck who wants to watch it over and over and over again.
My stomach growls as I enter the kitchen but even my hunger doesn't shove away the guilt I feel for speaking to her the way I just did. It's not like I can make her crave me the way I crave her. It's not like I can force her to want me the way I force her to come. I know I won’t apologize as I grab snacks and head back to the bedroom. I already did that once today. And that's once more than I ever presumed I would in my lifetime.
I cradle various bags of snacks to my chest as I open the bedroom door, wondering if this is the moment she loses that control she's so good at holding on to. But when I swing the door open wide, nothing comes flying at my head. She's sitting on the bed, watching me as I enter. She has the covers pulled up around her hips, perfect fucking tits on display, and she looks more confused than angry. It’s as if she wants to ask me what just happened, but I know she won’t. She’s never gotten comfortable enough to question my actions. Maybe she’s still afraid of me.
The coffee table is already back in its original spot on the far side of the room, in front of the couch. I don't know how I feel about the room being put back in order as if nothing happened. I don't know if I overreacted in the shower. I don't know if she's confused at why I acted that way. I don't know if it was a power play on her part. All I know is that this sense of guilt that I feel is entirely unwelcomed.
I don't say a word before turning around and walking back out of the room. I don't bother closing the door. She couldn't escape if she tried and I think that she's realized that as well. But just in case, I know I can trust the biometric lock that's on the front door. That's the only way out of this place. I drop the snacks back on the counter, not considering the thought that making her something heartier to eat is just one more form of an apology that I refuse to let escape my lips.
I stay on high alert for a few minutes as I rummage around in the pantry. There may come a time where she tries to find a weapon to hurt me with but keeping her locked in the room forever isn't likely either. I'm confident enough in my skills that I would be able to strong-arm her and get any weapon of her choosing away from her before it caused any real damage. I know that I need to be less concerned about the physical damage that she may cause and focus more on how she's completely turned my life upside down. But I don't have a hundred years to analyze all of that information.
Chapter 22
Raya
I stare at the open bedroom door. I know better than to get my hopes up. An open door doesn't mean I'm free. I don't immediately move from my spot on the bed. When he doesn't come back after a couple of minutes, I climb off and make my way in that direction.
I angle my head just outside of the doorframe, listening. Sounds of irritation can be heard in the banging of dishes and kitchen cabinets. I follow the sound, unsure of what I'm going to find.
Since I've been here, other than his phone ringing on occasion, we've been completely alone. I don't anticipate that ending anytime soon. He's already irritated, so I don’t bother wrapping the sheet from the bed around myself before leaving the room. My bare feet carry me into the kitchen.