The oversized sweater that was packed underneath everything else had been thin, with holes at the seams like he’d worn it for years. For all know, that’s exactly what he had done.
Other than that, a couple of shirts, three skirts, and one pair of flannel pants.
Was that all he owned? I didn’t need to know that answer. Because I was pretty sure that was all he had to his name.
It was unfair to anyone to have to go through a life being tortured and turned into something like Oakley had.
Taking the book that was not appropriate for a seventeen-year-old, let alone a twenty-one-year-old, I tossed it into the trash.
I couldn’t believe out of all the books that there were on that shelf, he picked that one. Why? Was he wanting to test me?
That book was all aboutlittlesin the BDSM lifestyle. While I agreed with most of that stuff in that book, it wasn’t one I wanted Oakley to ever set eyes on. It was bad enough that I could see the certain tendencies that already spoke to me as it was.
I had to keep reminding myself that Oakley was a minor. It didn’t matter one bit that he’d been trained, conditioned, to be a slave for whatever my needs were.
It was a good thing I was the buyer, even though Donny saw none of that money.
Oakley was a walking wet dream, and I was disturbed by my own thoughts on him.
Shaking the thoughts away, I pulled out the take-out containers from the bag on the table. Oakleystood a few feet away, hands clasped in front of him, eyes down to the floor.
I had to wonder if that was one of the many things that Donny forced him to learn, or if it was just natural to who he was. Almost everything I’d observed of the boy seemed to be natural so far. But that could easily be from years of training.
“Sit.” I dipped my head towards the chairs, waiting for him to choose which one.
Slowly, he took a seat that was closest to him, sitting down gently, right on the edge as if he was unsure if it was the right choice.
“How’s your pain?” If it was uncomfortable to sit, I’d find him a pillow.
“Better, Sir.” His voice was so soft and raspy as if he hadn’t used it for a very long time.
“Good. Let me know if it starts to bother you.” I placed the carton of food in front of him before putting mine down in the place across from him.
Looking at Oakley, I could already tell he wouldn’t speak up about the pain. Of course, that wouldn’t be surprising. He’d been abused by the hands of someone who knew how to make the pain last for days.
“I expect you to answer me when I ask you a question,” I pulled my gaze from him to my food, opening the white box. “I know youcantalk, thanks to Collin’s input yesterday.”
He nodded once, keeping his hands in his lap. “Eat. Slow.”
At the order, he finally opened his container. I had gotten him French fries and chicken strips. Easy food that would less likely upset his stomach. I got myself a hamburger with all the toppings.
“While I was out,” I said between bites, keeping an eye on his food. He was, thankfully, eating slower this time. Tiny bites that he chewed quickly, but it was better than him stuffing it into his mouth so quickly it made him look like a chipmunk. “I got you some clothes and other things. You didn’t bring much with you.”
I just wasn’t sure if he preferred skirts or pants. So, I had gotten him a bit of everything. “Whatever you don’t like, I’ll take back for a refund.”
Oakley opened and closed his mouth many times, choosing instead to shove a bit bigger bite into his mouth.
His face paled slightly at whatever thoughts he had. Ones that weren’t going to be shared willingly.
Maybe, hopefully, in time he’d feel comfortable enough to share the thoughts that went through his head. But at the same time, I hoped he wasn’t here long enough to feel comfortable to do so.
Right now, I was kind of stuck with the boy, despite what I wanted. Collin was adamant that I kept him since no one could get anywhere close to my house without first, a code, and two, without me knowing. And even then, they wouldn’t be able to barge in easily.
The only problem was that I didn’t have any place Oakley to sleep, other than my bedroom. Sure, I had other rooms that were ready to be uses as his space.
Keeping him close was best, even though it tormented me in many ways. I wanted him close, even though it wasn’t smart to do so. I needed space, which I wasn’t going to get either.
I was fucked up. As was this situation.
