I really don’t. Except there are many kinds of pain. And Ihaveto see if she’s truly on the same wavelength I am, or if in this way she’s still a child and this is nothing more than a game to her.
If it is just a game to her? I’ll easily scare her off. No problem.
If not?
Game on.
“Me, either,” she says.
“I mean, there’s alotof stuff you don’t know about him, or me.” Which is an understatement I don’t have time to explain right now. “We do this,together, but we do thismyway, and you don’t argue with me or deviate from the plan.I’min charge. That means keeping this a secret from him, for now. You fuck the plan, or you lie to me, and we’redone. No second chances. Understand?”
I know I have her, that she isalreadymine, when she answers. “Yes, Sir.”
I wonder what she thinks of my smile, if she thinks it’s sexy, or if she mistakes it for sexual desire.
In truth?
It’s victory.
Because with those two words, she’sliterallygiven meeverythingI need—every last key to open every single lock within her soul.
I now own her.
No, that’s not a metaphor, either.
Damn, this will be easier than I thought.
And alotmore fun.
My cock’s aching,throbbingfrom the thought of what delicious hell I’ll put her through to make her earn both my trust and the right to be withmyboy. Things I won’t be able to do with Owen yet, and maybe not for weeks, or even months—if ever—but things she’ll be eager and begging for from me within the next few days, or sooner.
In fact, I already have her in my arms, one hand possessively cupping the back of her neck, when it finally registers I am kissing her.
That’s when I know I’ve made my decision.
That it is the correct one is reaffirmed when she not only doesn’t resist when I slant my lips over hers, but she eagerly kisses me back.
And that she tries to chase when I pull away.
I stop her with a finger to her lips.
“Myverygood girl. We’re going to do great things, thethreeof us.”
* * * *
I quickly come to discover Susa’s demons aren’t quite as dark as mine, but they’re pretty damn close.
Her darkness, however, was born, not made.
I envy her that.
I envy her natural dark paths, the shadows and shade that organically took root and flourished within her soul.
I envy the joy she takes mapping every bypass and detour, every tunnel and bridge.
I envy that she can look at all the things I do to her, relish them, and beg for more with an unapologetic, wild-eyed hunger in her gaze that nearly brings me to my knees before her.
Not because I want to be there, but because old habits die hard.
