by René, Dani
I’m still not sure what the time is, but weariness overtakes me, and soon enough, my eyes are fluttering closed.
14
Logan
I smile as I watch her sleep. The camera sitting in the corner of her room is out of sight, and it allows me to observe my Sleeping Beauty as she dreams. I wonder what is running through her mind right now.
Is she dreaming of me?
When I taunted her earlier, I saw her pupils dilate with every filthy promise I made, and even though I expected her to fight me on it, she didn’t.
The feel of her delicate throat in my hold was enough to have my cock aching to be inside her. I’ve always been more turned on with women who weren’t looking at me, who weren’t able to fight, to speak while I was inside them. The broken parts of me loved the shattered parts of them. But with Vera, there’s something different.
I can’t explain it, and I definitely can’t define it. Nothing I feel around her makes sense. Not the way I want her to see me while I take her. Not the way her feisty nature makes every inch of my body grow hard and needy. And not even the way I crave to see her come apart.
At almost thirty years old, I shouldn’t be sitting here watching her on a small screen while I jerk my dick, but I am. Like a demented fucking stalker, I’m getting off while she’s asleep in my bed.
She rolls over, the blanket falling from her body, and I take note of how her smooth, porcelain thighs are splayed. Her panties are tight against her cunt, and the puffy lips are prominent. A groan of pleasure escapes my lips as I feel my release nearing.
I’m almost there. I’m about to find euphoria when she once again moves, and I catch a glimpse of her pert ass. The smooth material offering her up like a sacrifice. She’s beautiful, perfect in every way.
I want nothing more than to rub myself against her ass, to feel her softness, and make her moan while she’s asleep. To mark her with my seed while she’s oblivious to my pleasure. And when she wakes, she’ll feel the stickiness of me all over her.
I smile.
My hand moves faster.
She taunts me unknowingly as she becomes restless.
My hand stops suddenly when she shoots up, screaming into the darkness of the bedroom. I’m on my feet in seconds, shoving my dick into my jeans. Pain causes me to wince as I race up the stairs to unlock her door and shove it open.
Vera is crying on the bed, her body wracked with sobs, and I don’t think twice about pulling her into my arms. I’m on the mattress, holding her against me as she cries. I’m not sure what the fuck just happened, but she better tell me the truth, or I’ll spank it out of her.
I listen to her cries. The soft, mewling sounds lull her and me into a false sense of security, and soon enough, I feel her fall asleep in my arms. Her body is so small compared to mine. My arms cocoon her, and I feel her heat against me. Vera is nestled in my arms, the soft scent of vanilla still in her hair as I close my eyes and inhale the fragrance.
Her gentle breaths wisp from her slightly parted lips, and I watch her. The golden strands of her hair frame her face. The apples of her cheeks are shaded with a soft pink, and I can’t help but take her in.
Would this ever work between us?
How can we ever make this permanent?
The questions circle themselves in my mind as I watch her sleep. She truly is beautiful. My body hums with need when she nestles farther into my hold, and I tighten my arms around her. My cock is straining against my zipper. My earlier pleasure is still apparent.
Her arm slips down, her hand falling against the bulge in my jeans, causing me to hold my breath. She doesn’t realize what she’s doing. She’s asleep, and before I can chastise myself or feel any guilt, I take her hand and press it against the hardness of my cock.
The pulse that thrums in my chest shoots down to my cock, and a groan is drawn from deep in my gut. I know this is wrong. I know this is not keeping her safe, but rather taking advantage, but I can’t help myself.
I close my eyes as pure adrenalin zaps through my veins, like an electric shock coursing through me from the top of my head down to my toes. They curl in my socks; the ache only intensifies the harder I press. Her tiny hand is so small compared to my cock. I picture her gripping it, stroking it.
“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath as I use her limp hand to jerk me off through the material of my jeans. I should stop, but I don’t. I never once claimed to be a good man, and this time it’s no different as pleasure seeps from the tip of my cock, wetting my jeans, the damp spot visible through the material.
My body locks and I squeeze her fingers around my shaft, the material causing friction to rub against the smooth flesh, and I come harder than I ever have before. I’m shuddering while holding onto her as if she were my lifeline. A buoy in the middle of an ocean of darkness, and she’s my only light. Guiding me to the shore. But I’m afraid — instead of her saving us both, I’ll drag us into the depths.
* * *
Guilt weighs heavily on me as I make coffee. It’s not even six in the morning, and I’m wide awake. Normally, I’d be out for a run, trying to forget the night before, but I didn’t want to leave Vera alone. When I went out to the store, I half expected her to have gotten away.
The clouds are gray and heavy as the light of dawn approaches. I sip my coffee on the porch, looking through the heavy tree trunks as I think about what I did last night. The moment I came, I slid out from where Vera was practically curled around me and left her alone.
I needed to clean up, but I also needed space from her. Having her so close, I lost control and did the one thing I never wanted to do to her. I used her as if she were nothing more than a toy. Perhaps she is, but I shouldn’t have done it.
I’m stronger than that.
At least, I thought I was.
My chest is tight with anxiety as I think about her waking and seeing her hand pleasuring me. I wanted so badly to offer her the same, but if I did, I would’ve woken her, and she would’ve been more afraid of me than she’s ever been.
“Logan!” Her screech is enough to have me nearly dropping my mug on the ground. But I hold fast and race inside. Pushing the door open, I find her on the bed, her body shaking and her eyes wide.
“What?” I rush to her side, needing to hold her once more. Even though I should stay far away from her, treat her as I would a stranger who’s just staying in my home for a short while, I can’t. “What’s wrong, Beauty?”
“I . . . I had a bad dream,” she mumbles into my shirt and tugs at the material, pulling me closer to her. “I thought . . . I didn’t . . . I was dying. I couldn’t breathe,” she tells me, and my chest tightens with concern I haven’t felt in a long while.
“What happened?” I ask her, lowering my voice to an almost-whisper as I take in her shaking form. Her tiny body curls into mine as she holds me. I wonder if she realizes what she’s doing. If this were any other day, she would be pushing me away, so this dream must’ve done a number on her.
“Your dad found me,” she finally chokes out through sobs that wrack her body. “I couldn’t get away.” Her whine does things to me that I should ignore, but I can’t stop glancing down at my sweatpants that have a clear bulge slowly appearing.
Fuck.
This girl is messing with my head more and more each day.
“You’re safe here,” I tell her, knowing he’s nowhere near this shithole town. That reminds me. I need to check in on her apartment. The security footage should bring back something. Surely.
If there’s one thing I know about Herbert Oakridge, it’s that he doesn’t fuck around. When he wants something, he doesn’t allow anything to stop him.
“Why would you take me? I was safe. I’d almost forgotten about you.” Her words slice right through to my very gut. My soul, the one that’s so black it’s pure fucking charcoal, aches at the thought of me hurting her just like my asshole of a father would.
“I needed you safe.”
“But you . . . you can
’t keep me safe. I mean, why do you want me now?” Her question stills me because I don’t know how to answer her honestly.
Am I just obsessed with her?
Or is there something more between us?
15
Vera
He doesn’t say anything.
He doesn’t even move.
The muscles of his shoulders are tense, and I can feel how his hands stiffen around me. I shouldn’t have asked him, but I needed to know. If he’s keeping me here, if he’s so attracted to me, then there must be more between us. I can’t be imagining it.
“Logan?”
He moves off the bed and stares out the window, keeping his back to me. The shirt he’s wearing is taut against his muscles. I watch as his knuckles whiten with the fist he’s made. The tattoos that adorn his hands and forearms are pulsing.
“Logan, please don’t shut me out?” I sound so timid, so young that I’m unsure if the voice I hear is mine. He turns to me, and I take in the way the top five buttons of his shirt are undone. The ink that peeks through makes me curious as to what else is there. What’s hidden under the material.
I allow myself to take in all the tattoos that cover his body. The colorful artwork makes his tanned skin seem like a canvas—tempting and intriguing. Now that they’re clearly on show, I stare at them for a moment longer than I know is friendly. I’m checking him out, and I immediately admonish myself.
“I can’t do this with you,” he tells me. He rakes his fingers through his hair, tugging at the dark strands. He doesn’t have his glasses on, so I can see his eyes clearly. He’s still tense, but now when he glances up from under his long black lashes, I see it—fear.
“Why?” I challenge, scooting off the bed and making my way toward him. “Why can’t you just be honest with me?” I’m inches from him. The heat emanating off him comes in waves of cedar and oak. He smells like . . . safety.
“Don’t do this, Vera.” His words are strained, and the pained expression on Logan’s face only becomes more prominent. His brows furrow and his body visibly trembles the moment I place my palm on his shoulder.
Heat sears me from the contact between us, and I step one more inch closer, so my body is flush with his. Even though he’s not wearing shoes, I’m still almost half his size. The man is like a caveman, tall and broad. He looks down at me, dark eyes swirling with danger and agony.
“Logan, I can’t stay here if you’re not going to give me the truth.” My voice is low, but I’m so close he must feel my words whisper along his jaw.
“I’m . . . I did something last night.” The confession falls from his perfectly full lips. “I fucking lost all control with you so close to me, and I can’t stop myself anymore.” The gaze he pins me with burns me from the inside out. “It felt so good. I’ve never experienced pleasure like that before.”
“Then why is it bad?” I’m genuinely curious.
Logan chuckles, his shoulders shaking as he stares me down. “You need to be scared of me, Vera. I’m a fucking depraved asshole, and all I can think about is using you. About watching you sleep and toying with you like a limp fucking doll made for my pleasure.”
My mouth falls open, but it’s from the shock of how my body reacts to his words. I want to step even closer to him. I want to climb into his lap and tell him to do those things to me, but I don’t.
Instead, I shut my mouth and press my hand against his chest. Gently, I dance my fingers along his body, up to his shoulders. With my other hand, I do the same, until I’m holding onto him.
Without warning him, I leap into the air, and instinctively, he grabs my ass and holds me there. I feel powerful, knowing how much I affect him. All these years, I thought I wasn’t worthy of him when it was just our age difference that had pushed him away. I don’t blame him. I used to, but now that I know it was me but the fact that his father was sick enough to think Logan would want me when I was a child.
“Tell me all the things you want to do to me,” I plead, pressing my lips against his. It’s a mere brush of our mouths, but I feel his fingers dig into the fleshy globes of my butt. “Tell me, Logan. I want to know it all. I want to look inside you and see what you’re hiding.” I don’t know where the words come from, but they’re a plea for more.
“Why aren’t you running?” he asks, his voice pained. The expression on his handsome, rugged face is filled with confusion at what I can possibly see in him. How can I possibly want to stay here? I’ve lost my mind, but I shrug it off.
“I can’t run. You made it clear,” I tell him. “Also, you’re the only one who’s ever truly wanted me. You . . . understand my mind, the darkness that seems to live there on a daily basis.”
“Is this about the fantasies you confessed online?”
I nod.
“And you want that with me?” he questions incredulously.
“I trust you, more than anyone else I know in my life. Why can’t you see that you’re not truly bad? You’re just broken, and you’re living with guilt.”
Logan stares at me for a long time, and I’m sure he’s about to throw me on the bed and tell me to leave him alone, but he doesn’t. He turns, settling me on the mattress before he heads toward the door.
“Wait! Where are you going?” I ask, my chest tightening at the thought of him locking me in here again without anyone to talk to. I can only imagine he’s lonely, living up here with nothing but trees for company.
“I need time to think.”
“And you’re just leaving me in here?” My question is filled with a plea that’s clear and evident. My heart thuds against my ribs. It’s painful, but I ignore the ache. I want to run to him and ask him not to leave me, but I don’t. I’m not going to beg him if he’s made up his mind.
“For now.” He shuts the door behind him with a thud, and I sit and stare at the wooden object for a long while after he leaves.
* * *
When the door finally opens again after a few hours, I can only tell because the sky has changed color. Logan saunters in with a tray filled with food. A plate of lasagna with salad on the side. He’s also included a bowl of what looks like chocolate cupcakes that have been cut into smaller pieces.
“I thought you’d be hungry,” he tells me with a grin. “Earlier,” he starts, “I was caught off guard by your words. I didn’t expect you to say something like that.”
“I . . . I wasn’t expecting what I said either,” I tell him honestly. It’s true. I was so shocked by my pleas that I sat for a long while, reconsidering what I said.
“Did you mean it?” he asks, sounding like a little boy scared of what I could say. He is lonely. I notice it in his gaze when he looks at me right now. A man so strong, so powerful, yet he’s as broken as I am. I guess nobody can overcome loneliness. And not everyone is what you’re expecting from a mere glance.
“I did.” I nod the words no longer a lie. I’m not here to try to force him to let me go. If he needs me here to keep me safe, I’m going to trust him just like he’s trusting me with his confessions.
“I’m not sure about this.” He sounds lost to the thoughts that must be dancing in his mind. “I’m not gentle. I’m not a fucking sweet and loving man,” he tells me earnestly, and I can’t help but smile. “There are things that . . . I haven’t told you.”
My heart stills at his words, but I don’t back down. “Then tell me now.”
He pins me with a pained glare, one filled with so much agony it steals the breath from my lungs. I want to hold him. I want to wrap my arms around him and keep all those pieces of him together. To stop him from falling to tiny fragments at my feet. But I don’t move. I wait, holding my breath, watching the way his eyes burn with the past demons he’s fighting.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he tells me. “To be a man with a woman by his side.” The truth spills from his lips like a cool drink of water. As if quenching my thirst, he continues, “I’ve been taught to be cold, brutal, savage.”
“But that’s
not who you are deep down,” I insist. I can see he’s at war with himself from the way his shoulders tense to the way his jaw ticks as he grinds his teeth together.
“The thing is,” he tells me, a wry tilt of his lips making his face darken even though it’s an attempt at a smile. “I’ve always thought I was broken. Cursed by something. And when I look back at my childhood, I realize I am. My father is not a good man. He never was. But all I know, I learned from him.”
“Did he . . .? I mean . . . was he . . .?”
“Did he abuse me?” he questions, and I nod. “No. Never. He was . . . oblivious to me until I turned eighteen and had to meet my future bride.” Logan pins me with a stare. It was the day he saw me for the first time.
“Something must have happened after you walked out that day at my birthday party,” I voice my theory, and he nods. I’m right. “He did something, said something to you.” My chest tightens when Logan sighs and pushes away from me. He stalks toward the window, leaving me shivering from the cold he’s left behind.
He keeps his back to me as he stares out at the now-fading light. The large frame of him blocks out most of the view, but I don’t go to him. I realize he needs to come to terms with whatever he’s going to tell me.
“We went home. He didn’t speak to me at all. The moment I stepped foot inside the house, he left me to head to his office. He ignored me for the rest of the day until I finally built up the courage to go to him. It was only when I got to his library, which I was never allowed to enter, that I heard him speaking.”
He’s quiet for a long while, so I ask, “What did he say?”
“I don’t know who he was talking to, but I know it was a woman. I heard her voice. She was the one who told him I’m broken. I’d never heard her voice before, she was a stranger to me, yet she knew me inside out. As if she’d shoved her hand into my gut and touched my soul.”
