He held me tight, washed my body in the shower, always assuring me everything was okay. He told me he loved me, told me I was his.
It wasn’t control. I could leave at any time now that he was gone. It wasn’t like he locked the doors from the outside or chained me up. All I had to do was turn the knob and step out, use the elevator, andbam, I’d be out.
But I didn’t.
He just wanted me safe, didn’t want to lose me when our story had just begun. It was his way of showing he cared. It wasn’t like he had the best role models. He was trying his best.
After the movie, which only captured half my attention, ended, I went to his closet and looked through his clothes, trying to decide what I wanted him to wear to the club. When I hung his outfit up in the bathroom, I caught sight of my reflection.
Pale. Wide-eyed. Happy.
His.
Iwas vibrating by the time I wrapped up the final meeting, my hands flexing on the ride home, palms sweaty.
Avery was probably getting ready for the night out, excited to stretch her legs and be around other people, but what I wanted more than anything was to tie her to my bed and edge her until she promised to never leave.
Then, I’d fuck her until she was begging me to stop, until our bed was soaked with her tears…and her juices.
My eyes strayed to the garment bag hanging next to me.
“Big date?” the driver from the chauffeur service, Bernard, asked, smiling at me from the rearview mirror.
He’d driven me many times over the last couple of years, enough to be well acquainted. Bernard was a kind older fellow who valued family and always asked about mine.
“Something like that,” I mumbled, wishing he would drive faster, get me to Avery as soon as possible. “I need someone back here at seven.”
He nodded. “If I may say so, Mr. Thompson, you look happy.” He paused as he turned onto another street. “I’ve never seen you so anxious to get home. She must be special.”
“She sure fucking is.”
I knew he was being nice, making small talk, but every second I wasn’t with Avery was a second too long. I felt like a shaken soda bottle, ready to explode.
Thankfully, he read me well and left me alone for the rest of the drive, dropping me off at the front door and promising someone from the company would be back at seven to pick us up.
The ride up to my apartment was excruciatingly slow, as was the speed at which the doors opened. I nearly peeled them open myself.
Silence met me when I stepped inside the apartment, my little kitten nowhere to be seen.
“Avery?” I called out.
Nothing.
I took my coat off and set my laptop bag down before walking toward the hall, the garment bag still in my hand. My pace quickened when I heard music coming from our bedroom.
“Avery?” I said again at the doorway.
The primary bathroom light was bright in the dark room. I moved carefully, even though there was no way my steps could rival the volume of the song playing.
When I reached the bathroom, I was met with swaying hips, loud singing, and a hairbrush microphone. She was so adorable, performing a secret concert as she slid across the tile floor.
The song was unknown to me, but I sidestepped into her space after hanging the garment bag on a hook on the door, catchingher off guard. Her lips parted, cheeks reddening, but I grabbed the brush from her hand and tried my best to sing along with the lyrics.
I was two or three beats behind and way off pitch, but the sparkle in her eyes and the smile on her face were worth the humiliation. She giggled and shook her head as I spun her around, and then I pulled her body to mine and swayed to the beat.
“You have the most breathtaking smile, baby,” I said after putting the hairbrush down. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
“I wasn’t expecting you home for another thirty minutes.” Her breathing was unsteady as she leaned up to kiss my cheek. “Did you have a good day?”
