That’s not something I can use to help my case here in his murder cabin, I remind myself.
“What do you do to me while I’m asleep?” I ask, even though I know he won’t answer me.
“Would you like to see?”
What?!
“What do you mean?” I whisper.
He leans close to my ear, his breath tickling the edge. “I have every encounter with you on tape. Do you want to see what I do to you when you’re sleeping, pretty poison?”
“Yes,” I stammer.
I need to know. Even if I don’t want to, I need to.
11
KOEN
“Sit,” I tell her, relishing in every shake of her hand. Every waver of fear in her exhales.
She listens, and it does something to my sick soul.
Backing up, I give her the room to drop into the chair before my six main screens. I lean over her, punching away on the keys and letting her coconut-vanilla scent waft up my nose, which does nothing for the leash on my control I currently have a loose hold on.
I pull up the first night I touched her.
It’s timid, nothing too harsh, she won’t want to see. Not that I’m going to hold back.
She needs to see that she’s mine.
She needs to know the depths of my ownership of her and her body.
She watches with wide eyes as I slide her panties to the side and press a finger inside her, watches how she moans in her sleep, her hand cupping her breast as I finger her slowly.
She didn’t come that night because Bear, the unforeseen glitch in my plan, leapt on the bed and startled me.
This makes her smirk, and I watch her face light from it like a kid staring at a Christmas tree.
I can’t dwell too long on how the smile makes me feel. I don’t have time for my obsession with her to grow.
I’ll be a tangled fucking mess if it deepens.
“How far did you go with me?”
“What do you want to see?” I ask.
“All of it. I want to know…. I need to.”
Typing in the date etched in my memory for life, I pull up two months ago—August 9th, to be exact.
The night I lost control.
So warm.
So perfect.
My fingers slide through the slick arousal coating them, and my dick feels like it’s going to explode from jealousy in my pants.
