by Nikki Chase
I’d also been annoyed that there was to be no repeat performance, but I’d completely agreed with her. I didn’t need that kind of complication in my life.
Besides, Sarah was young, and it was time for her to spread her wings. She didn’t need dead weight like me. I would’ve dragged her down with me, defiling her body and corrupting her soul.
Now, as I stare at Sarah’s lovely form on the hotel bed, my mind floods with thoughts about our first time at my tattoo shop, about Peter, and about the way I’ve been watching her from a safe distance.
It’s not too late.
I can still change my course of action.
I can tell Sarah nothing and let her go back home.
Better yet, I can fuck her before I send her home. She won’t even know who I am. I can keep her blindfold on while I fuck her, keep speaking in low whispers so she doesn’t recognize my voice, and keep acting like I’m PuppetMaster.
Hell, I am PuppetMaster. I created this online persona. It’s not like I have to fake anything to be PuppetMaster.
In fact, it’s a chance for me to let my inner demon out to play, and that’s more real than any other side of me.
I have a feeling she’ll like it if I rough her up, bury myself balls-deep inside her, fuck her with complete abandon, and leave her tied up all night. In the morning, when she’s greeted by the shocked stare of a hotel cleaner, she’ll get another rush. She’ll probably pleasure herself to the memory for years after that.
I know exactly how she’ll feel, and I understand completely why she’s doing this. But that’s not a good thing. The only reason I get Sarah’s motives is because I suffer from the same addiction, too.
It’s just that I’ve been keeping my monster locked up in a cage. But now it’s grabbing the iron bars and rattling the cage with all its might. The sight of Sarah, all tied up and begging to be fucked, has woken the monster up from its deep slumber.
More than ever, I’m glad Peter was my friend. That’s the only thing holding me back right now.
My cock strains against denim. These jeans are getting fucking tight. At the very least, I’ll have to wait until my erection goes away before I talk to Sarah. No way she’s going to take me seriously with this giant boner in my pants.
There’s no way I’m going to go soft with this view in front of me, though.
Sarah’s lying on her side with her back to me, her beige coat crumpled and her hair messy from the blindfold around her head. Her arms bend awkwardly behind her, and her wrists are still tied up.
She’s been lying there for at least ten minutes while I make no sound. Some “submissive” girls would’ve squealed by now. They would’ve yelled out in frustration or maybe just asked some questions.
But not her. Not Sarah. When she says she wants to be an object to be used, she means it. If I made her lie on the bed in an uncomfortable position all night and never even touch her once, that’s what she’d do—no complaints.
Such a good girl.
I can clearly see the dip of her waist and the rise of her hips. The gentle slope of her legs. The definition in her toned calves. Her dainty little feet, which are encased in the kind of closed-toe heels that I specifically requested.
I’ve been sitting in the corner of the hotel room in my attempt to stay as far away from her as I can. This absurdity is what happens when a predator befriends its prey, when a monster takes a liking to its victim.
I know I can crush her, body and mind. From the way she’s been interacting with PuppetMaster, I can tell I’ve already got her under my spell. She does everything I ask of her.
I get up to my feet. The carpet should be thick enough to muffle my footsteps. I circle the bed to take a close look at Sarah from another angle.
Her back is arched and her chest is pushed out, rising up and down with her breathing. Several strands of her golden hair stick to her red lipstick—another thing I wanted her to put on.
What a waste of such a good girl.
She said she wanted PuppetMaster gone after this one night. But her compulsion to obey is strong. She’s so different from the way Sarah usually is, she may as well be someone else, someone named Doll.
Unlike Sarah, Doll doesn’t have opinions or specific desires. All Doll wants is to be played with, but she doesn’t get to decide how.
Guess what, Doll? I have some ideas on what to do with you.
I’ll bet if I reach out my hand and fist your hair, you’ll gasp and beg for more.
And if I unbutton your coat to expose your tight little body, you’ll cream your panties.
If Doll is not Sarah, then maybe … Maybe I can let my monster out to play for a little while? I’ll keep a tight leash on it, make sure it doesn’t hurt Sarah.
…
What the fuck am I thinking? I must be losing my mind.
That’s not the kind of thing I should even consider. I’m supposed to be doing a favor for Peter. It was his last wish.
Fuck this. I need to get out of here.
After a cold shower in the en-suite, my mind is much clearer. Without my dick screaming for attention, finally my big head can be the one in charge again.
I grab the back of a chair in the corner of the hotel room and drag it across the carpet until it’s about one foot away from the bed.
I can’t sit on the bed with Sarah. I won’t be able to hold myself back if she so much as wiggles in her restraints.
I stoop down to undo the binds around her wrists. I do it carefully so I don’t accidentally graze her temptingly soft skin, and I do it slowly so her blood flow gradually goes back to normal.
Still, she whimpers as her limbs shift positions, no doubt causing her tired muscles to ache. Her voice, so small and vulnerable, makes me want to push her down, climb on top, and …
Fuck. If my mind keeps coming up with filthy fantasies, I’m going to get hard again. And I’m not about to take another cold shower.
I’m going to hate myself for letting go of this opportunity to dominate the naturally submissive woman in front of me.
But I know I’ll hate myself more if I take advantage of her. I won’t be able to forgive myself.
With my heart pounding, I pull the blindfold off her head.
There’s no turning back now.
I quickly step away, as if she can burn me with the slightest touch. I pull the chair another foot away from the bed before I take my seat.
Sarah’s eyelids wrinkle and crease as the black blindfold comes off. Warm light from the bedside table falls right on her pretty face.
It takes her a while to squint her eyes open. But as soon as her vision finds me, she snaps awake. Sitting bolt upright, she perches on the edge of the bed.
“Luca?” she asks in confusion.
As if I can be anybody else. Even if I had an identical twin brother I’ve never met before, he wouldn’t have the exact same tattoos I do.
“Hi, Sarah.”
Sarah
“What’s going on?” I look around me.
Just as I thought, I’m in a hotel room. It’s dark here, except for the warm light from the table lamp on the night stand, the one on my side of the bed … although there’s nobody else on the bed, so technically they’re both my sides.
I knew the sheets were going to be perfectly crisp except for the bit I lay on. I didn’t feel anybody climb into bed with me.
All I knew was that someone was in here, in the same room as me.
But was that someone … Luca? Has he been here from the beginning?
“Are you PuppetMaster?” I ask, shooting straight to the point.
Luca’s sitting in front of me, wearing an expression I can’t quite decipher. Half his face is covered in shadows, giving him an unnervingly sinister look.
He’s wearing a plain white T-shirt, as usual. Like stark white gallery walls, his simple outfit allows the artwork on his body to shine. Luca wears a white shirt and a pair of jeans most days, even if they invite stares from curious small-towners who
don’t often see heavily tattooed men.
(He wears a different white shirt every day. I checked. He has a bunch of that same shirt in his wardrobe.)
Luca’s tattoos normally look like beautiful works of art. But now, they’re all kinds of crazy colors, their original greens and reds dyed by the yellow light.
His eyes, darker than usual, are the color of wet moss. He’s looking right at me, but his stare is vacant, like he’s not really seeing me.
Luca sighs. He’s scarily sober tonight—and not good-scary either (as in when a guy is obviously about to do me real hard), but the kind of scary that sinks heavily in my stomach and makes me sick.
“There is no PuppetMaster,” Luca says flatly.
“What do you mean? I chatted with someone online. Was that you? That was you, wasn’t it?” I ask question after question. In my head, even more questions pile up. But I have to give him a chance to speak if I want answers.
“Yes,” he says in his baritone voice.
He admits it!
What’s going on? Is this part of the role play? Are we still fucking? Do I want to do it with Luca?
I mean, he’s still the hottest, most irresistible bad boy in town, and I’m nothing if not a sucker for a guy like him: a damaged guy who looks like he can do some serious damage on me, too. Except I know Luca’s a sweetheart inside.
“So you are PuppetMaster?” I ask again.
“No.” Luca shakes his head slowly. “PuppetMaster doesn’t exist. It was just a name I came up with to get you to confess.”
“Confess to what?” I don’t know what he’s accusing me of, but I’m already offended.
“Confess that you have a problem.” Luca’s eyes meet mine.
“A problem with what?”
I swear, he’s making me want to kick him in the shin right now. Except I know he’ll easily overpower me.
On the other hand, he’s not going to really hit me back, and I may just enjoy being manhandled for a little bit. Perhaps it’s not such a bad idea after all …
“You’re addicted to danger,” Luca says with certainty.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, even as my heart pounds guiltily in my chest.
Luca cocks a dark eyebrow. “Going online to find a stranger to do anything he wants to you. No rules, no safe words. Does that sound like something a sane person would do?”
“Are you calling me crazy?” I raise my voice.
“No, you’re just an addict,” he says casually. “There’s no shame in it. I used to be one, too. That’s why Peter told me to keep an eye on you.”
“Okay. Firstly, I’m not an addict. I know it looks bad, but I don’t do this all the time. But we’ll get back to that later.” I lean forward on the bed and watch Luca closely. I want to hear what he has to say to my next question. “What exactly did Peter say?”
“A lot of things,” Luca says. “But the gist of it is, he’d been wrestling with addiction his whole life, and he knew you were at risk, too. So he wanted me to keep an eye on you after he was gone and make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.”
“Jesus, Luca, for once in your life, tell me a complete story.” I usually find his calm, quiet demeanor sexy and mysterious, but right now it’s irritating. Looks like I’ll have to ask specific questions. “Why did my brother think I was at risk?”
“He told me about your underage drinking,” Luca says, seemingly unperturbed by my growing impatience.
“What underage drinking?” My guilty heart beats even faster.
“I don’t know if he told you this story. But one night, Peter woke up from one of his drunken stupors. He saw you picking up a bottle, filling up the flask he thought he’d lost, and sneaking back up to your room. That scared him enough to get sober.”
“So you and my brother used to sit around the campfire and talk about how everybody else was an addict too to make you feel better about yourselves?” I ask angrily as I bury my shame deep inside of me.
Peter never talked to me about that incident. I thought I’d hidden my drinking from him. I guess I wasn’t as good a liar as I thought I was.
Either way, that bad habit went away when Peter started going to AA meetings and locking up the drinks cabinet.
I really thought nobody knew.
“Not everybody else,” Luca says matter-of-factly. “Just you.”
Ouch.
I’m glad the light is so dim in here, otherwise Luca might see my cheeks flushing red.
“So you’ve been spying on me?” I ask, trying to drag him down with me. Look at yourself; you’ve done something wrong, too! I want to yell at him.
“I’ve been monitoring you,” he says calmly, with no remorse.
I wonder if he’s seen the romance novels I read, or the kinky porn websites I subscribe to.
But what does it matter? Luca already knows how broken I really am inside.
“That’s how you knew where to find me. You knew my identity.” I found it hot when I knew PuppetMaster was stalking me, but this is not the sexy situation I hoped it would be.
“You were going to tell any guy who said the right things where to find you anyway,” Luca says with just a hint of anger.
“How did you know I wasn’t just posting for fun?” I ask.
“I didn’t,” he admits, shadows shifting in the dark with every syllable he utters. “But I had a feeling you might do something like this.” Luca pauses. “I remember when you sought me out for a tattoo and a one-night stand. I remember your grandmother had just died.”
It’s not a question. Luca knows he’s right, and I do, too. He’s got me figured out.
How does he do that? What has Peter been telling him?
Oh, God. Did Peter know about my dark cravings?
“So, what do you want?” I ask. It doesn’t matter whether I really am addicted to anything, but I don’t have to sit here and listen to this.
“I want you to live with me until I’m convinced you can behave in a sane and responsible way on your own,” Luca says in a practiced tone. It’s probably something he’s quoting from some book on addiction.
“Luca, I’m telling you, I’m not addicted. I don’t do this often, I swear.”
“I know. You only do this when you’re upset,” he says, again guessing correctly. “But it only takes one mistake. One bad guy. I could’ve murdered you. Hit you over the head and drowned your corpse in the lake.”
“Fuck, Luca. Do you have to be so morbid?” I pretend like the thought hasn’t crossed my mind.
“I just want you to understand how dangerous this is. You’re playing with fire. This is exactly the kind of risky behavior that’s fueled by an addiction, which can flare up during stressful times,” he says.
“What textbook are you quoting from?” I ask sarcastically.
“Sarah, this is serious,” Luca says as he leans forward, propping his elbows on his thighs and leveling his penetrating gaze at me. “You should live with me, at least temporarily. It’s for your own good. It’s what your brother would’ve wanted.”
My eyes prickle as they grow wet. Damn it. He can’t bring my brother into this. It’s not fair.
“It’s late tonight, and I’m sure you’re tired,” Luca says. “You can sleep here. I’ll take you back to the clinic in the morning. I’ll pick you up after work. Pack some clothes.”
He’s being really bossy right now. Next thing I know, he’ll be telling me what colors to wear and what toiletries to use.
“Yeah, okay.” I don’t see any other choice here, especially if this is what Peter would’ve wanted for me. I add, “But only for one month.”
“You’ll stay for as long as it takes for you to deal with your grief in a healthy way.”
Ugh. Bossy. But I’ll have to admit it’s kind of hot that he’s calling the shots.
“Fine.” When I blink, two drops of tears escape my eyes and roll down my cheeks
As soon as the word leaves my mouth, Luca gets up off his chair.
/> “Where are you going?” I ask, sniffling as I watch him rush to the door.
“My room. Next door,” Luca says right before he disappears and the door shuts behind him.
I almost roll my eyes. Men. The sight of my tears probably made him uncomfortable.
Luca
My legs are long. But as I rush down the hotel hallway, it doesn’t feel like they’re taking me away from Sarah as fast as I want them to.
I told her I was going to my own room.
Real talk? I don’t actually have one.
But I will as soon as I get to the front reception desk and swipe my credit card.
I don’t know why I ever thought I could sleep in the same room as Sarah and not lay a hand on her. I thought I could just spend the night on the couch—it was going to be a tight fit, but I was going to be able to watch her all night.
She said some angry words, but that’s not why I left.
The way she was gazing at me, wide-eyed and full of naked desire—she wasn’t even trying to hide it. She let her guard down. She was letting me see her at her most vulnerable. She was so fucking tempting. She was practically begging me to unleash my caged monster on her.
Those tears she cried made me want to pull her into my arms to cry on my shoulder. At the same time, I wanted to spank her and make her cry even more; hurt her until she screamed out my name in a voice soaked in a heady concoction of pain and arousal.
Right now, if she wanted to, she could get back online on her phone and find some other guy to come here and fuck her up.
But my gut says she won’t—not just because she’s spooked at having just been found out, but also because the one she wants is PuppetMaster.
The one she wants is me.
But I can’t.
I’ve ruined lives and relationships before. I can’t let myself do that to Sarah, especially when she’s this vulnerable.
I need to hold myself together.
Somehow, I’ll have to survive living with her without even touching her. I know if I touch her, I’ll have to have all of her.
It’s an impossible task. But I’ll do it. Even if she’s not the only one who’s dying to fuck the pain away.
