by Linnea May
And all I know to do to stop her from that is to treat her like this. Leave her, alone and confused, filled with unanswered questions, before my hunger drives me straight back to her. I know I won't last long because I'm still craving her as if I've never had her. Like the fucking addict I am.
Everything is falling apart around me, things growing worse by the minute. I step into my office, frantically running my fingers through my hair. I‘m greeted by chaos – piles of papers and notes, the blinking light on my phone indicating waiting messages, my open laptop, my cell phone – all just other reminders of my failed nature.
I know there are calls, texts, and e-mails waiting for me. I know that even a two-day absence can unleash chaos if you're a man like me, a man with responsibilities, a man whose company is in the middle of wrapping up negotiations for its biggest acquisition ever.
A man with an addiction.
Lemon is entitled to freak out in a case like this. He has clear instructions of what to do if and when it happens – and I was the one who gave him those instructions.
He's doing everything he's supposed to do, but I was smart – or dumb – enough to include a loophole for myself. There's a reason why Lemon doesn't have this address. I told myself that it was about privacy because this is the place where I bring my girls every year. This is where I make room for that obsessive monster that lives within me. This is where I let it roam freely, living out its dark fantasies that have haunted me most of my life. It was all about creating a way to deal with it in what I hoped was a sane and safe setting for everyone involved.
But I still am the one holding the power to throw everything into disarray, and that's just what I did by inviting Laura inside my home.
I step into my office, pacing back and forth with my hands raised to the sides of my head in a mock effort to stop my insanity from taking over, to keep the monster from escaping.
"Fuck!" I yell, knowing that no one can hear me. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
I glance at my phone, my eyes blinking frantically, as if that could make the blinking light go away. That damn blinking light, telling me there are missed calls and texts, trying to bring my attention back to the real world.
I can't deal with any of it right now, and my instinct tells me to completely ignore it, run back to her, fuck her, keep her in my arms, take in her scent as I sleep next to her.
Yes, this is all I want, all I need. I shouldn't even look at that damn phone.
But I still do. I can't stop myself from grabbing my cell phone and turning on the screen. As expected, I'm bombarded with missed calls and texts, most of them coming from Lemon. They start off innocently enough.
"I hope you remember our meeting with the guys today at noon," is the first message I read.
He wrote that one on the day I returned from California. Two days ago.
"Where are you?" reads the next message, sent just a few minutes before the scheduled meeting. Then he tried to call me a few times. The calls stop for about an hour shortly after noon. I know that's when he had to explain my absence to everyone, coming up with God knows what excuses to tell them about why I didn't show up for one of the most important meetings I've ever had in my life.
The messages become more aggressive after that.
"Where the fuck ARE you?!"
"FUCK, Ryan! I'm going to come over now."
A few more calls follow after that. The next few texts let me know that he tried to reach me at my penthouse address, the only one he knows. He threatens to break in the door, but I know that legally he can‘t. His threats remain empty.
I throw my phone down. My heart is racing, hammering against the cold clasp tightening around my chest, and I'm overwhelmed with guilt, anxiety, and premonition. It's always the same. Dark shadows are closing in on me, their horrid darkness filled with shrieking beasts, lost hope, and the terror of loss and failure.
I should let her go, kick her out of my life, free her from me before she falls in love with me. But it might be too late for that. And I know that I'd only fall even deeper into the deep, dark abyss surrounding me without her.
I can't let her go, ever. Even now the pain of being apart from her is stronger than the fear of having to face her questions.
She's beginning to suspect things. She knows that our time is up and I'm no longer playing by the rules of the game.
There's no safe place for me, neither here nor with her, but I'd much rather face the trouble that awaits me downstairs than having to deal with this.
I'm pulled out of my horrid stream of thoughts when a shrill, merciless sound screeches through the room.
My phone is ringing.
I stare at it for a second before I let the piercing sound chase me out of the room.
Laura. I have to feed her.
Yes, that's what I need to do. It's been more than half a day since she's had her last proper meal. She must be starving.
I must feed my beautiful doll.
Chapter 41
Laura
I'm scared. Something is terribly wrong with him, with us.
When he came back after storming out on me, I didn't find the courage to confront him about the passing time again. I could sense that he was still mad at me, and all I wanted was to bring things back to the way they were before. I wanted to be back in his warm embrace, my body still pulsating with post-coital glow and nothing but relaxation on my mind. I miss the comfort of those minutes, the feeling that everything was perfect as long as I was with him. No worries, no future, no outside world waiting for me bring it in order. Just us.
But I broke it by asking him about the time we have left. I broke one of the rules he laid out for me, but as easy as it would be to blame myself for killing the mood between us, I just can't.
Because I know he's hiding something from me. I know something is off, and I can't ignore this.
Why should I have to stick to the rules if he isn't?
My suspicion turned into fear when I realized that I couldn't leave even if I wanted to. Every time he leaves the room, I can hear the lock clicking after the door slams shut behind him. Still, I tried to open it when I was by myself, only to confirm that I was locked in. I never even approached the door during my first time here because I had no interest in leaving. I was happy and perfectly content with the way things were going. The contract stated that I wasn't allowed to leave the room, so I never even thought about trying.
But our time now has run out, I can feel it. I can’t be absolutely certain because I still have no way of telling the time, but I'm not completely dumb. Or blind. The stubbles on his face haven't been there before. I've never seen him like that. He was clean-shaven as always when he picked me up in California, and I've never seen him otherwise. Until now.
More than twenty-four hours have passed, yet he keeps me locked in, storming out in angry rage every time I try to ask about the time that has passed since we got here.
I'm his captive, and I have no idea when he intends to let me go.
Or if he will let me go at all.
He took everything from me, my clothes, my bag, my phone. I wasn't allowed to keep anything. There's no way for me to reach the outside world, and I don't even know where I am. Would anyone hear me if I screamed for help? I doubt it. I wish I knew what's going on in his mind, if he's just prolonging our time together by a few hours, or a day. Why won't he tell me? Why is he refusing to talk to me?
I need to know. I need to talk to him, but I'm scared to confront him.
He left the room again after we had dinner together. Or breakfast. Or lunch. He ordered pizza for us, something that I would have taken as a peace offering if his mood hadn't continued to be so sour.
Again, I tried the door, and again I realized there was no way for me to leave.
I retreated to the bed, wrapping the blanket around myself, creating a little cocoon to gain a sense of safety and comfort that he no longer provided. This is how he found me when he came back, only a short while after leaving m
e alone. Neither of us spoke a word to the other as he crawled into bed with me. I was trembling, sad and scared, when he wrapped his arms around me.
"Hush, little doll," he whispered. "Let's sleep."
His voice soothed me, despite the alarming awareness of my situation. I pushed everything aside, my questions, my fear, and my doubts, and I fell asleep in his arms.
And that's where I woke up, his embrace pinning me to the bed and against his half-naked body. He's not wearing a shirt, holding me tight against his hard chest.
There it is, the comfort that I have been craving. But it's overshadowed by concern.
"I'm scared," I whisper, unsure whether he's even awake to hear me.
"You should be," he replies, his hoarse voice close to my ear.
His words send a cold shiver down my spine, and I tense up in his arms. My eyes are immediately wide open, staring into the nothingness before me, as his words bounce back and forth in my skull.
I struggle free from his embrace, and to my surprise, he doesn’t restrain me. I move away a few inches and turn around to face him. He's lying next to me, still seemingly half asleep, his hair ruffled and a relaxed smile gracing his handsome face. I would melt at the sight of him under any other circumstance. He looks so innocent and sexy at the same time, his strong muscles clashing in contrast with his boyish face.
"Ryan," I whisper, my gaze locking onto his. "I'm scared, because of you. You're scaring me."
The intimacy between us allows for me to remain calm. Even if he's holding me captive against my will and refuses to tell me what's wrong, he's still the same man who makes my heart beat at the speed of light, the same man who I couldn't get off my mind for an entire year, the same man who swept me off me feet and made me feel things I never thought possible. I feel so close to him that I'm confident he’ll eventually let me into his heart and mind. I know I can get him to talk to me.
His eyes flicker with a warning.
"What did I tell you to call me?"
"Master," I correct myself. "Master, you're scaring me."
He nods. "Good girl."
I wait for a few moments to give him a chance to reply, but he doesn't say another word. He just looks at me, the blue of his eyes filled with sadness. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that he's quietly asking for me to help him. But help him with what?
"Master, I know that our time is up," I add. "It's time for me to go home. You said so yourself."
I flinch in surprise when he reaches out for me, his hand closing around my upper arms with such violence that I groan in pain, casting him a reproachful look.
"You're not going anywhere," he whispers. "You're mine, doll."
I swallow hard, trying to find the right words to say to him.
"But I need to leave," I insist. "Layla is waiting for me and-"
"You're not going anywhere!" he repeats, louder this time. His voice is so pervasive that it incites more fear within me.
My heart is racing, chased by fear. I try not to let it show, but he has come too close to me for that to work. He sees and knows everything. His eyes wander to my trembling lower lip when I speak again.
"Please, master," I utter, suppressing tears from my watering eyes. "Please speak to me. Please tell me what is going on."
His eyes widen, and for a split second I can see a clarity returning to them that has been lacking for too long.
"I've lost, doll," he whispers. "I've lost myself in you."
Chapter 42
Ryan
I watch for a reaction on her face. A grimace of shock, disdain, confusion, anger. Anything. But she doesn't give me much to work with. Her face is frozen in an unreadable expression, scanning me with a mixture of worry and something else that I can't place.
Attraction? Is that it?
How could that be? She said she's scared of me, and I told her she should be. She knows that I've locked her in this room for longer than we agreed upon. She knows that I took away the decision to leave on her own free will. She went with me willingly, but what's happening now is happening against her will.
"Master," she whispers. "What do you mean?"
My eyes meet the deep green of hers, a forest full of wonder and mystery. I know very little about my doll, but yet I feel like I have known her for years. Her proximity feels natural, familiar, right.
Letting her go feels anything but right.
I crave her, even now. A part of me is glad that she doesn't see it, because it's hidden beneath the silk sheets. I'm rock hard, my cock yearning to be buried inside of her. Again. And again.
"I can't let you go," I say. "You're mine now."
She shakes her head, but her expression still doesn't change to anything I'd expect. Horror, disgust, shock. All those emotions were written on Sandria's face back then, when she realized what I was doing to her, when she realized that she was my captive. She cried for help, tried to fight me, her long claws cutting into the flesh of my back as she tried to get away from me. The memory still hurts. The way she fought me off, the way she stared at me, accusing me of being a monster. And she was right. I am a monster. I'm a sick addict who has no control over his cravings.
Laura has an idea of that now as well.
But why isn't she reacting in the same way? Why does she remain calm and collected, looking at me as if I'd just told her a sad story instead of threatening her and telling her that she's not allowed to go anywhere anymore?
Instead of yelling, punching me, or hammering against the door, Laura leans in closer, her lips meeting mine in a loving kiss. I'm too stunned to reciprocate at first, but I'm defenseless against her. We kiss like intimate lovers kiss, calm and acquainted, our tongues almost shy toward each other. She lets out soft moans, the sound of them driving me insane with desire for her.
I'm floating on an unfamiliar high when she breaks our kiss to look at me.
"Master, you have to talk to me," she breathes. "You have to let me know what's torturing you."
She's not looking at me like a victim would regard its violator. She's not pleading for me to let her go, not fighting me, or casting me a face of disgust.
My doll looks at me with sincere worry.
And I refuse to grant her only wish.
I can't talk about it, not with her. How am I supposed to tell her something about this when I don't understand it myself?
I shake my head. "Doll, some things can't be explained."
She surprises me with her next reaction. A little chuckle.
I search for her gaze to make sure that I just heard right. And yes, there she is, smiling at me and shaking her head as if it I'd just said something incredibly silly.
"So, master, let me know then," she whispers. "What's your plan? You'll just keep me down here forever?"
I frown at her. Is she making fun of me?
"I'm not saying I'd hate that," she adds. "But what about your life? What about your business? I'm sure you're needed out there – way more than I am."
My pulse speeds up at the mention of those things. I can still hear the phone ringing inside my head, the aggressive texts from my loyal assistant Lemon. I can only imagine the trouble I’ve caused him, and everyone else who's been working on this acquisition for the past year.
This was the worst time for me to lose my mind - which made it the most obvious time for it to occur, as well. The pressure and responsibility didn't stabilize me as I'd hoped, but instead pushed me over the edge, right into Laura's slim arms.
Instead of giving her a reply, I opt for the only thing I know I'm naturally good at. I grab her by the back of her head and pull her closer, pressing her lips to mine for another kiss.
She resists at first, but soon gives into me, relaxing under my touch. I roll over on top of her, pushing her arms up and pressing them into the mattress. She squirms beneath me, immobilized but just as greedy with lust as I am.
"Stay like this," I tell her, as I let go of her hands and move down to her tits. She arches her back and moan
s loudly when I squeeze them together, wrapping my lips around her left nipple and beginning to suck and bite on it. Her breathing changes quickly, and by the time I repeat the same action on the other side, I have her exactly where I want her, coiling with need and spreading her legs for me.
I cover her with kisses, traveling down to her belly. She giggles when I tease the side of her pelvis, one of her most ticklish spots. Her legs widen eagerly when I move closer to her core, her lips spreading before my eyes, already glistening with desire.
An ecstatic moan fills the room when I lean in to taste her. She tenses up as my tongue draws circles around her clit, drawing more moans from her. She's dripping wet and more than ready for me. I enjoy the taste of her for a few more minutes, before I get back up, hovering over her and catching her dazed gaze. Our eyes are glued to each other when I slowly part her lips with the tip of my steel hard cock.
This time is different. I don't fuck her like the savage I am, not like all the other times when I fucked her, or anyone else. I'm sliding inside her with an eerie patience and calm, savoring every moment until my hips are pressed against hers. Our lips meet for another kiss and we engage in a dance that I've never danced with anyone before.
We're not fucking.
We‘re making love.
Chapter 43
Laura
A cynical thought crosses my mind when I wake up this time.
I guess this is my life now.
Waking up next to him, freshly fucked, my body sore from his cock, his hands, his cane, the collar cutting into my throat as I sleep. My days will consist of nothing but sex, food, and his mysterious company, spiced up by a lot of unanswered questions.
As alluring as all of this sounds, I know this is no way to live, either for him or for me. Unlike me, he does have responsibilities, a gigantic company to run and providing for the thousands of lives connected to it.
And I know he's running from all of it right now because of his obsession with me.