With my ear pressed against her door, I can hear every sound, every breath.
I canât stop biting my lip as I listen, wondering what sheâs doing right now. Something muffles her cries, a pillow perhaps. I imagine her hugging it tight as she curls up on my guest bed ⦠her bed. In her room. The room I gave her as a prison to stay in.
I shouldnât be here.
But I canât stay away either. Wherever she is, Iâve always wanted to follow. Itâs what drove me to her in the first place, what made me take her away from her father.
Sheâs right. Iâm a cruel monster who only cares about his own desires. But a part of me, somewhere deep inside, wishes for something else too. Something ⦠better. Something real.
But we canât have that. We never could and never will.
Not when sheâs my hostage, someone I keep in a soft and velvety cage for my selfish needs.
My hand lingers on the wood, nails digging in as my heart sinks into my shoes. Iâm fighting the urge to unlock the door and go inside.
I have no place in her room. Not after taunting her to the brink of despair. Did I go too far? The knife and fork were only a gameâa way to toy with her emotionsâbut the sight of her obeying me filled me with such power that it consumed me and made me lash out. I wanted her to eat that cake until she was full and then sink to her knees and take my cock as a second dessert.
But that was a filthy dream of mine. Nothing more.
I shouldâve known my fantasies would interfere with my ability to reason. I couldnât keep my cool and made her face the rage inside me. Of course, sheâs upset.
I close my eyes and let out a sigh. I donât want to be this mean. I want to make her happy.
But I want her to suffer too, and those wishes clash like hell. I want her to know what it did to me when she chose to deny me and chose her goddamn father over me. That fucking arrogant son of a bitch who didnât even love her ⦠who ruined her for me.
Who worked my father to death ⦠literally.
Taking in a deep breath, I lean away from the door and stare at it for a few seconds. Then I turn around and walk away. But there will come a time when I wonât be able to keep that door locked. When I wonât stop myself from touching her ⦠from kissing her. And that day will be here sooner than she thinks.