Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
The landing made a creak that sounded loud. My prison room was small and dark, even with the daylight shining in. The bathroom was nice, but again it was cheap. There were barely any toiletries in the shower unit – just an expensive body wash and tea tree shampoo. I was almost surprised when I opened the mirrored cupboard above the basin. One solitary toothbrush and toothpaste in the holder. It was more casual than I was expecting, propped there neatly.
It was weird to think of it being in Lucian’s mouth. It was weird to think of Lucian using it in his mouth. I couldn’t imagine it – the Morelli Monster doing something so basic.
The naughty little girl in me wanted to overstep my boundaries in this space when he wasn’t looking, so I did it. I took Lucian Morelli’s toothbrush and ran my tongue over the bristles. It gave me strange shivers. Naughty. It felt a lot less naughty when I shrugged off the bad girl and straight up used his toothbrush for what it was intended for, then stepped into the shower. The heat was a beautiful relief.
There was a towel over the rack. I wrapped myself up in it snug then headed back out onto the landing. I knew what was waiting for me – the ultimate of snoops for the sneak.
Lucian Morelli’s door was the one at the far end. Even his door felt more sinister somehow. More imposing.
It wasn’t locked.
More fool him, but it wasn’t locked.
His bed was huge in the space. His wardrobe was plain wood but stocked at odds with the rest of the place. It was brimming with clothes, suits that looked insane against such a mediocre backdrop. They smelt of him. Grand. Imposing.
He had an old leather watch in his bedside drawer with some initials on the strap. RHM. He had a notebook and a pen in there which I thumbed through eagerly. It was a dream journal. Lucian Morelli recorded his dreams. They were split into two types – ones where he was killing other people and ones where they were killing him. Always violent. The torture in them would have turned my stomach if I wasn’t already used to hearing of brutality in the shadowy dregs of our lifestyle.
His handwriting was cursive but masculine, almost calligraphic. It suited him. His pen was fountain and jet black. I scrawled a sample of the ink across my hand. I used to love writing when I was a little girl.
I felt bizarrely at home in Lucian’s bedroom. I guess because it felt like a home, even in its sparse decor. I wondered just how much time he really spent here and whether anyone knew he ever came. I doubted that somehow.
I didn’t opt to put my underwear or my dress back on from the night before. Instead I pulled one of Lucian’s designer shirts from the hanger. The black richness made me look all the more pale in the mirror when I slipped it on. I liked wearing his shirt; it felt private. I felt close to him in the most mundane of ways. That felt bizarrely close – closer than I’d ever have imagined. In some ways even closer than having his dick in my ass or his breath in my face.
I wondered when I’d see him again. The thought was both terrifying and exciting, a combination I was fast becoming accustomed to. People adapt quickly, don’t they?
I helped myself to some canned soup. Nothing exciting but amazingly welcome. I made myself a coffee and settled down to some TV on the crude little TV in the corner of the living room to pass the time. I couldn’t focus on it. I was on hyper alert, heart racing at the thought of a car pulling up in the driveway.
When a car did pull up in the driveway, I leapt up from my seat, a wreck as the nerves ate me up alive.
The monster was silent as he stepped inside and cast his eyes on me. His eyes were as dark as I’d ever seen them. His jaw was as firm as I’d ever known. It was barely dark outside, so he must have come straight here, perhaps leaving before the customary 5 o’clock. Surprising. I’m sure my expression must have told him so.
“Enjoying my shirt, are you? Taking liberties already. You should watch your cheek.”
I ran my hands down the fabric as he watched me.
“You have tempting shirts. Better than a castoff dress, thanks very much. Some liberties are there to be taken.” I paused, holding my hands on my hips. “Expect me to wander around naked all day, do you?”
His answer was simple and straight.
“Yes.”
I couldn’t help but smirk. “Sure thing, right. Think this is some kind of slutty romance novel or something?”