Watching Her: A Dark Romance (Keep Me Series Book 3)

by Angela Snyder

  I thought about those stories at that moment, completely tuning out the sound of Pavel's belt slicing through the air…my sobs piercing my ears…the pain wracking my body…

  But my Prince Charming never came to save me.

  Not that night.

  And not any night after that.

  CHAPTER 1

  KATYA

  Present

  I STARE AT the scars on my legs as I remember the first night I met Pavel Fedorov. I had only been sixteen, too young and naïve for what had happened to me. But he beat me and stole my innocence that night, and I morphed into someone I didn't even recognize — a hard, unforgiving shadow of my former self. Someone who could never trust or love anyone ever again.

  I waited for my prince to come save me, just like in those stupid fairy tales. But after spending years in captivity, being beaten and tortured on a daily basis, I stopped believing in white knights and happy endings.

  They simply didn't exist for someone like me.

  I had to grow up quick at the hands of that monster, but I revel in the fact that he never truly broke my spirit. Not completely anyway…no matter how hard he tried.

  When I hear the toilet flush and the sink turn on in the bathroom less than ten feet away behind the closed door, it snaps me out of my reverie. Quickly, I swallow down the burning anxiety threatening to come up in the form of this morning's breakfast.

  Sliding my fingers down my tall, lean form, I fidget with the hem of the pink and black teddy that I slipped on moments ago. I know my husband won't appreciate it and will most likely rip it off the moment he comes out of the bathroom, but I'm forced to wear something sexy each and every single time.

  Like a soldier getting in the right mind space before heading out to battle, I steel my nerves and plaster a big, fake smile on my face. I've grown accustomed to pretending. Hell, I've been doing it on a daily basis since I was a young girl. And I must say, I'm quite good at it now.

  The door opens a second later and out steps the devil himself. Sweating profusely, even though he just took a shower an hour before, Pavel steps towards me with an evil smirk on his fat, red face. He's naked; his small cock flaccid between his thick, hairy thighs.

  "You look good enough to eat, Katerina," he says with a sneer, and it takes all of my willpower to keep the smile on my face.

  Standing stock still, I don't even flinch when he begins to rip the lingerie from my body in a few, short, hard tugs, the fabric cutting into my skin and probably leaving marks.

  "Knees," Pavel commands.

  And like the obedient little doll that I am, I fall to my knees before him. He shoves his tiny, fat cock in my mouth, and I try not to gag at the taste.

  "That's it," he groans, stroking my head roughly like a pet. "Take it all, bitch."

  I work him until he's satisfied that he's had enough. Placing his hands under my armpits, he hauls me up off the floor and marches me towards the open door to the balcony. Anyone can see in here, and that's exactly how Pavel likes it. He likes to show me off — his pretty, little subservient wife heeding to his every command. He wants people to hear and see him conquer me.

  Suddenly, Pavel whips me around in his arms and shoves his cock inside of me from behind without even preparing me. I tense as I feel my inner walls protesting against the intrusion, and I moan in agony. I'm dry as a bone, but that never mattered to the bastard before. In fact, I'm sure he'd rather I didn't enjoy it.

  His stubby fingers glide up my throat and wrap around my neck, squeezing hard. "You know, you think you have me fooled, Katerina," he hisses in my ear as he fucks me from behind. "But I know you're not truly submitting to me. You're just pretending. Always pretending."

  I shiver at his words and how true they are. I thought I had fooled Pavel into thinking I was finally submitting after all this time, that I was tired of the abuse and just giving in. But of course, the bastard figured it out. The devil knows everything.

  Pavel grunts and forces his way inside over and over again. "I beat you. I starve you. I keep you locked up. Nothing works."

  His hand squeezes my neck harder, cutting off my oxygen. My lungs scream in protest, wanting to drag in some air, but I don't fight him. Not yet. It's worse if I fight.

  "I'm going to have to beat the submission into you, girl," he hisses in my ear, his own words working himself up into a frenzy. His free hand digs into my hip, no doubt leaving bruises. "You're mine. Forever. I own you. Do you understand?"

  He doesn't even give me a chance to answer, and it's not like I could even if I wanted to. I'm on the verge of passing out. Little black dots cloud my vision, and I feel myself becoming limp in his arms.

  "Come for me, you little bitch," he demands.

  Against my will, as if my body is attuned to his commands, my entire body convulses with a powerful orgasm. The lack of oxygen and the pain are the only real things that can get me off. I've been conditioned to accept them.

  Pavel finally releases my throat, and I cough and choke, trying to drag air into my lungs as he continues to stick that pathetic excuse for a dick inside of me.

  Tears fill my eyes as I try to withdraw into myself, pretend that this is not my life, that I'm someone else…if only for a moment.

  No.

  Shaking my head, my hands curl into fists at my sides as Pavel continues to fuck me. He wraps his hands around my waist possessively, and I cringe from the contact.

  I have to stay focused, I think to myself. This is my only chance.

  Pavel finally pulls out of me, fisting his cock and finishing himself off. While he's distracted, I go to our luggage, unzip one of the compartments and take out the small pistol I found while he was in the bathroom.

  I know how to shoot. My father taught me when I was a little girl, not long before Pavel came along and took me away from my family. I just hope my aim is still good.

  Pavel works his dick in his hand, spurting his seed around the room before he huffs out a satisfied groan. When he turns around and sees me holding the gun aimed straight at him, his eyes grow wide and his voice trembles as he asks, "What are you doing?"

  In my native tongue, I tell him, "What I should have done a long time ago."

  CHAPTER 2

  JACKSON

  I SMILE AS I read through the texts between my cousin, Lucien, and me. He's freaking out about the engagement ring I'm currently in possession of, and I'm having a fun time fucking with him.

  Staring down at the velvet box, I open the lid. A large solitary princess cut pink diamond atop a rose gold band is gently nestled in the center. Lucien had it custom made, and the shop owner told me it was one of the rarest diamonds he'd ever seen.

  I didn't even ask the price that Lucien paid. I don't even want to know.

  I do know, however, how much he loves Adeline, so I'm sure it was a fortune.

  My phone rings, and Lucien's name comes up on the screen. I crack a grin before picking up.

  "Have I ever told you that you use more emojis than a teenage girl?" he growls into the receiver.

  "Well, hello to you too, Luc," I answer with a grin. "And for the record, the poop emoji is fucking hilarious. I don't care what you say."

  "Just tell me you got the ring and you're keeping it safe," he demands, and I can practically hear the tension coming from the other end of the phone.

  "I have it. And it's perfect. Adeline's gonna love it."

  I hear an audible sigh of relief coming from my cousin, and now I feel bad for fucking around with him so much. He was clearly on edge and moody…but then again, when is he ever not those things?

  "Thank fuck," he groans. And then he asks, "How's the city?"

  "Booooring," I drawl out before tucking the ring safely back into my luggage.

  Then, I take the phone out on the balcony. My room isn't in the fanciest hotel in Sicily, but it's private, quiet and cozy. I've stayed here several times before, and it's the perfect place to people watch. That's my favorite part and why I keep returning.
>
  The neighboring hotel across the street faces the one I'm currently in. I've watched numerous trysts and fights and, hell, even watched a woman simply watch TV and then fall asleep.

  I've always been what many would consider a voyeur. Lord knows I've heard that word uttered more by my cousin over the past few weeks than ever before.

  I've enjoyed watching Lucien and his newest acquisition.

  Adeline.

  Just the sound of her name rolling around in my mind is enough to get me hard.

  She is the epitome of a perfect woman — petite with long, dark hair; big, green eyes and the perfect hourglass shape with legs for days.

  Fuck. She's a walking wet dream.

  I've been keeping my relationship with her strictly platonic, however. I want to live to see tomorrow, after all.

  Lucien would undoubtedly kill me if he knew how much I fantasize about Adeline, but I don't know any straight man that could keep himself from wanting a sexy, beautiful creature like that.

  He's gonna be beating men off of her with sticks for years to come. It will be extremely hard to keep a prize such as her all to himself.

  But I know he's up for the challenge.

  I'm just glad he's allowed me to watch the two of them together, to live vicariously through him, since that's all that will ever become of this whole thing.

  Seeing Lucien find love has been hitting me hard as of late.

  I want what he has.

  I need a girl like Adeline. Someone to call my own.

  I want a relationship...for the first time. Ever.

  I want something…more.

  Some noise in the hotel adjacent to mine captures my attention. A woman's moans have my eyes searching the rooms across the street for the source.

  "Are you watching porn?" Lucien hisses into the phone, and I have to hold back a chuckle.

  Lucien is the only guy on the planet that I know of that doesn't like porn and thinks it's disgusting. What's not to like? Girls and guys fucking a bunch of different partners…kissing…fucking…and sharing communicable diseases.

  Fuck.

  Okay. Maybe it is a little fucking gross now that I think of it. Damn it, now Lucien's gone and ruined porn for me. He's already ruined salad bars and hotels for me.

  Shit, the first thing I did when I came in this room is remove the dirty, disgusting comforter from the bed and shove it in the corner. Lucien assured me they don't wash that fucking thing and that everyone who stays in the room uses it…putting their nasty, bare asses on it or getting their juices all over it after they fuck on top of it.

  I shiver in disgust and mentally curse Lucien. I'm not going to let his germiphobe ways rub off on me too much. I refuse to carry around a bottle of antibacterial gel like him.

  Well, I actually have a bottle of it in my luggage, but that's beside the point.

  The guy groaning across the street brings me out of my germiphobe musings, and I sink further into the shadows as I watch them.

  Realizing I didn't end my call with my cousin yet, I say, "Uh, I think my night just got a whole hell of a lot more interesting." Lucien sighs, and I can practically hear his disgust. With a grin, I quickly tell him, "Hey, I gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow."

  I end the call and sit down on a metal chair, placing my phone down on a plastic, round table.

  The couple across the street has a large balcony separated from the room with a sliding, glass door and floor-to-ceiling windows. The door and curtains to their room are wide open, giving me a view of their entire suite…and of them fucking. They definitely are not shy, I'll give them that much.

  They don't look like a couple, however, the more I see of them. And I have to wonder if the woman isn't, in all actuality, a call girl. She looks to be in her early twenties, and the guy behind her is older…much, much older. He looks to be in his fucking sixties, bald, short and stocky with not so much a dad bod, but more like a grandpa bod.

  "Ew," I hiss out loud.

  Shaking my head, I focus on the girl, because the old man is seriously killing my boner.

  She's tall and thin — maybe too thin since I can see her ribs poking out — with long, blonde hair and a pretty face. I can't see the color of her eyes from here, but I desperately want to know. Maybe hazel or blue…or green…

  My thoughts drift slowly to Adeline and her green eyes against my will. It's like a constant inner struggle. She's not mine to have, but I think about her constantly.

  Grimacing, I think about the engagement ring currently burning a hole through my luggage as a tell-tale reminder that she belongs to Lucien. It doesn't matter what my feelings are for Adeline or the fact that I kinda, sorta fell for her along the way.

  We'll never be together, and I need to just fucking get over it.

  "Easier said than done," I mutter to myself, scratching at the tabletop surface with my thumbnail.

  A weird sound catches my attention, and my eyes snap up to the woman across the street. The man behind her has his hand around her throat, and she's gasping for air. He's still pounding into her, the sound of their flesh slapping together bouncing off the brick walls of the hotels.

  His hand squeezes tighter, and I can see the girl's lips turning blue from here. Fuck, he's gonna kill her.

  Quickly, I stand up, ready to intervene. But it's at that moment that the man hisses, "Come for me, you little bitch."

  And as if on command, the girl shudders into an orgasm so powerful its evidence leaks down her thighs. The man finally releases her, and the girl coughs and sputters, catching her breath.

  Oh-kay, maybe they are into BDSM or some shit, I think to myself.

  I sit back down, not really sure if I want to continue observing the couple and feeling turned off for the first time in my life from watching two people getting it on.

  Maybe I'm just spoiled with watching Adeline's perfect body over the past few months. The other day in the library when I caught her and Lucien screwing was hot as fuck, and I still jack off to the memory of it almost every night.

  Just thinking about it gets my dick hard again. It presses up against the zipper of my jeans painfully as I stroke my length through the denim.

  My eyes drift back to the couple that I only sorta want to watch now. Grandpa looks like he's getting close. His face is beet red and he's covered in sweat as he shoves his small dick into the woman, who looks bored and on the verge of tears.

  I feel bad for the girl. Surely she deserves better than this guy…if this even is her acquaintance or boyfriend. Maybe she actually is a call girl. Doesn't she get to at least pick her clients beforehand?

  Sighing at my deflating boner and knowing that I'm not going to get off to this shit tonight, I stand up and push my chair in. That's when I hear the guy grunting and groaning. He pulled out of the girl and is jacking his small dick off in his hand. He spurts all over a nearby chair and the carpet.

  Goddamn it, Lucien was right. Hotel rooms are fucking nasty!

  Frowning in disgust, I grab my cell phone from the small table, ready to call it a night. That's when I hear the man loudly ask, "What are you doing?"

  Fuck.

  Thinking I've been caught watching and ready to explain that I was just grabbing my phone that I left out here earlier, I look up and realize he's not talking to me.

  He's talking to the blonde seductress standing a few feet away from him…and holding a small pistol in her hands. The barrel of the gun is pointed at his chest as she backs him against the wall inside the hotel room.

  Since the door and curtains are open, I see everything. And I mean everything.

  The blonde is still naked as she takes a step forward. She starts talking in a language I don't understand. Russian I think since it reminds me of the words Wraith, Lucien's most trusted and loyal bodyguard, is always muttering back at the island we reside on.

  The more the girl speaks, the more upset she gets. The man puts his hands up in a placating gesture, trying to calm her down, but it doesn't help.r />
  Is she a hooker robbing a john…or what the fuck is going on here? I think to myself.

  I don't have enough information to know what's happening across the street, but I know it's going to get bad. Real bad.

  They argue for a few more minutes before the man's face morphs into anger, and he takes a few menacing steps towards her, shouting.

  And that's when it happens.

  Three shots in succession.

  Pop, pop, pop.

  Two in the chest and one in the face. The old man stumbles backwards and collapses against the wall. I hear his last breaths as blood gurgles in his throat.

  He's dead. He's fucking dead. Just like that.

  And when I look towards the girl…I see that she's got a smile on her face.

  CHAPTER 3

  KATYA

  I DID IT.

  I actually fucking did it.

  My ears are still ringing from the three shots that echoed in the hotel room, and my hand is cramped to the point of pain from holding the small gun so tightly in my slender hands.

  I did it, I tell myself in my head over and over again. An insane bubble of laughter threatens to escape my throat, but I force it down. I need to keep my cool right now as much as possible. The next steps are important, and it's critical that I don't fuck up.

  My eyes scan their way from the gun to the bloody heap of my husband in the corner of the room. His dead eyes stare up at me, and I shiver violently. "Fuck you, Pavel," I mutter to his dying corpse. God, I've been waiting so long to say that.

  Ten years to be exact.

  Ten fucking years.

  Tears fill my eyes, and I allow myself a moment to grieve…not for the bastard who's lying dead before me, but for the childhood that he had stolen from me.

  I catch movement in my peripheral, and I notice that the curtains on the balcony at the hotel across the street are moving. I stare for a silent moment, holding my breath, but no one emerges. I can't afford any witnesses right now. The gun trembles in my unsteady hand, but I know I would pull the trigger again in a heartbeat. I have been planning this escape ever since I was a young girl, waiting and waiting for the chance, and nothing will get in my way.