by Linnea May
I can sense that something is broken inside of him. I think I've sensed it from the very first moment when we met; it may even be one of the many things that drew me to him.
He doesn't have his arms wrapped around me this time, but instead he is sleeping with his face turned to me, as relaxed as I've ever seen it. The stubble on his face has grown even darker. He looks so handsome, but yet so alone.
I want to kiss him, but before I do, another idea crosses my mind. I freeze as my eyes curiously wander to the door. Did he ever lock it when he was with me? I never noticed.
This could be my chance to get out and fix this. My gaze turns back to him. He hasn't moved nor shown any signs of waking up.
I try to make as little noise as possible when I peel myself out of the blanket, carefully slipping out of bed and walking on quiet tiptoes to the door. I stop before I reach it, realizing something else.
Being naked has become so natural for me that I almost walked out the door wearing nothing but the collar around my neck. I scan my surroundings for anything to wear. He gave me a light robe to wear once; where the hell did that go? I can't seem to find it anywhere, and while I'm still in the middle of deciding how to deal with the situation at hand, I hear him turning over on the bed.
I don't think twice, quickly reaching for the doorknob. I am surprised to find the door unlocked. I open it silently and slip through without letting another moment pass, carefully closing it behind me with the intention of making as little noise as possible. If he just woke up, there's no chance in hell that I will get far, but I don't hear anything from the other side.
I did it. I got out – and he's still sleeping, not suspecting a thing.
I let out a sigh of relief, but am reminded again of my nakedness, now that I'm out of the warmth of my red velvet room. Cold air meets my skin and I instantly wrap my arms around myself. I'm shivering with cold and excitement. I follow the surprisingly bright corridor – it's narrow, not much wider than the door to my room, and its brick walls are painted white but there are no windows, only very bright ceiling lights – leading all the way to the end of the corridor, where it turns into steps right ahead of me. I’ve walked this corridor once before, a year ago, when he led me outside.
I hurry toward the stairs, my eyes turning up to the door at the top of them. I'm covered in goosebumps by the time I reach it, and for a moment I fear that my journey could end here if this door turns out to be locked.
But it isn't.
The doorknob turns right away, but I'm hesitant to walk through just yet. What if there was someone else in the house? Would I really want to face them butt-naked like this?
Do I have a choice?
My worries aren't strong enough to actually keep me from slipping through the door. I squint as I'm met with a sharp ray of sunlight hitting me directly in the face. I shield my eyes by lifting my hand and casting a much needed shadow over them. This allows for me to get a better understanding of where I’m at. The last time I was brought up here, I just hurried along with Ryan, paying little attention to my surroundings.
The sunlight filling the room is not morning light, but the orange-tainted warmth of the late afternoon sun. This surprises me, and shows how off my sense of time has become. I could have sworn it was morning.
I’m in the main living room of the house. The polished marble flooring gleams in the afternoon sun, blinding me. The entire room is held in light colors: white, beige, and ivory with just a few darker accents here and there. A seating area with white leather sofas accented by dark cushions is positioned around a fireplace in the middle of the room. The wall opposite me is nothing but floor-to-ceiling plate-glass windows and French doors lead out to a terrace laid out in slate.
To my right, platform walkways encompassed by elegant banisters permit catwalk access on the upper levels. The floor plan of the house is smaller than I expected, and there seems to be nothing but the living room and a connected open kitchen on the first floor. I'm drawn to the floor-length windows and the sun outside, but I definitely don't want to leave the house naked.
If there's anything for me to wear, I'll probably find it in his bedroom upstairs.
So, instead of walking over to the French doors and opting for escape to the outside, I make my way upstairs, covering myself as best as I can in the slight chance that someone crosses my path.
I don't see or hear another soul as I head to the second floor. I'm met with an open space that could be considered a wide corridor. Three doors are leading away from it, one to my right and two to my left. I decide to go for the single door on my right first and open it with cautious curiosity.
The room behind the door is not a bedroom, but what appears to be an office. An office that's in a terrible state.
I would have taken him for an organized person, someone who leaves his desk in less of a mess than I did when I was still attending school. Piles of paper and notes are scattered across the wide table, covering almost all of it. There are bookshelves to my left filled with books and files, and while the shelves seem to be mostly in order, the rest of the room is a mess. It's kind of dark in here because the drapes are partly closed, only letting in slim rays of sun.
I don't know why, but I walk over to the window to open them. As the room lights up, I get an even better understanding of the chaos around me. It's not limited to the desk, but also to the floor surrounding it. The walls of the room are also plastered with notes, adding to the overall disarray.
I jerk in shock when a shrill ringing sound penetrates the eerie silence that has surrounded me until now. I didn't even notice the phone until just now, as it's half buried under a pile of papers. I stare at it, my eyes wide in shock, as if this was the first phone I'd ever seen in my entire life.
My next move comes as a big surprise to me.
With a trance-like serenity, I step next to the desk and reach for the phone.
"Hello?"
Chapter 44
Ryan
I find my doll standing naked in my office, her bruised backside turned toward me as she leans to the side, shifting her hips in a way that makes her perky ass look so delicious that I can barely contain myself.
It becomes easier when I realize what she's doing. I heard the phone ringing, but only three or four times before the sound died and was replaced by the soft tone of her voice.
"Hello," she said, sounding like someone who was expecting to receive this call.
I lean against the door frame, paralyzed but curious. A few moments of silence pass before I hear a male voice on the other end of the call. I don't have to stand near her to know that it's Lemon she's talking to.
"This is Laura Brown," she says, as if it was the most natural thing. She adds a chuckle. "Yes, the waitress. May I ask who I'm speaking to?"
I can't help but let out a little snort myself. She hears me and turns around in an instant, casting me a frightened look. Her face relaxes when she sees me smiling.
"Mr. Lemon," she says, grinning at me. "Oh, yes, Mr. Hawkins has mentioned you. No, he's fine. You have no reason to worry."
I can hear Lemon raging at the other end of the line, but Laura remains calm, nodding and smiling at me as she listens to his outburst.
"Mr. Hawkins is a little preoccupied right now," she says at one point, interrupting Lemon. "But I will let him know you called, and I promise you that he'll get back to you before the day ends. Is there a message for him?"
I can't help but laugh at this point. There she is, my beautiful, perfect doll, standing in the middle of the chaos that has become my life during the past few days, her delicious body exposed and looking as perfect as it can be while the warm sunlight reflects off her light skin, talking to my assistant as if she's been working as my secretary for years. The sight of her is so insanely mesmerizing that it almost makes me feel dizzy.
"Yes, the acquisition," she says, as if she knew exactly what she's talking about. "No, Mr. Lemon, I can assure you that he has not forgotten about it, a
nd yes, I will let him know. He will get back to you tonight, I promise."
With that she ends the call, putting the phone aside and looking at me with crystal clear eyes.
"Lemon says to call him back," she says in a matter-of-fact tone. "He said that the meeting you fucked up by not appearing has been rescheduled for next week."
She pauses, clearing her throat, before she adds, "And to let you know that he'll cut off your balls if you fail to show up again."
We both stare at each other, testing the atmosphere between us without words, before we both break out in laughter in unison.
"Come here," I say, opening my arms for her. "Come here, my doll."
She approaches me with slow and deliberate steps, her eyes glued on mine and a coy smile on her face. I wrap my arms around her naked body. She's covered in goosebumps and her skin is so cold that it makes me shiver.
"He sounded angry," she says, her voice muffled as her face is pressed against my chest. "And concerned."
I scoot her up in my arms. "Let's put some clothes on you, my doll. You're freezing."
"I was trying to find something to wear," she says. "But the phone call stopped me."
Our eyes meet as I carry her out of my office, unsure how to feel about what just happened. I thought I'd be angry. I know I was furious and in a panic when I woke up and didn't find her next to me. I thought she had run away from me, just like Sandria had. I felt betrayed and lost, thinking she may have tricked me into sleeping with her, just waiting for me to doze off so she could sneak out and get away from me.
I thought I had lost her forever.
But Laura surprised me. Her intentions may have been similar to what I first suspected, but she didn't make a run for it as soon as she could. She didn't cry for help, run out of the house toward the street, waving her arms in a desperate attempt to get attention from the first car that drives by. It may have been modesty that held her back, but she's still here.
Instead of running, she did what I haven't been able to do for days. She picked up my phone and faced the problems that haunt me on the outside world. And she did it in a manner that impressed and amused me at the same time. I will never forget the picture of her standing naked in my office, her body marked with signs of my obsessive love for her while she engages in a conversation I never thought I would ever witness.
I carry her over to my bedroom, enjoying the view of her face beaming as she sees it for the first time.
"You have such a lovely home," she whispers.
I let her down and walk over to my closet to gather the clothes she was wearing the day I brought her here. They are cleaned and ironed, but when I turn around to present them to her, she doesn't look as happy as I thought she'd be.
"I'll take my underwear," she says, grabbing her panties from the top of the pile. "But, um.... I was hoping you'd give me something of yours."
I watch as she steps into her cute lacy thong, still keeping her eyes on me, just as I taught her on our first date together.
"Something of mine?" I ask.
She blushes and it's the cutest sight.
"Yes, like a sweater or T-shirt or something," she utters. "Like... a boyfriend kind of thing."
I raise an eyebrow at her and she raises her hands in defense.
"I mean, I know you're not my boyfriend, but I-"
"You'll get your sweater, doll," I say, interrupting her with a peck on the lips before I turn back to the closet to give my doll what she deserves.
Chapter 45
Ryan
My doll is sitting next to me on the sofa. She is wrapped in one of my cashmere sweaters that‘s way too big for her slim frame, and she has her long legs curled up underneath her. She blows softly on the steaming cup of cocoa she’s holding in her hands, her eyes fixated on the crackling fire burning in the fireplace. It's been a while since I've used that fireplace, or actually even sat in front of it. And I've certainly never experienced this scene with one of my previous girls.
But Laura is more than just one of the girls. She is different on so many levels that I'm truly beginning to fear the impact she holds over me.
Or maybe I'm loving it.
I regard her in cautious anticipation, unsure what's going to happen next. We haven't spoken much since coming down to the living room, and I couldn't think of anything to do other than to offer her a hot drink, so she could warm up while we talked.
Talking has never been my strong suit, not when it comes to these types of things anyway, personal things.
"Why did you come back for me?" she asks out of the blue. Her eyes remain focused straight ahead of her on the fireplace.
I'm startled by her question. Shouldn't the answer be obvious?
"Because I wanted to see you again. I needed to have you again."
"Have me," she repeats, her voice low and contemplative. She throws me a quick glance from the side. "When we first met, you said you don't date and you never see a girl again after spending one night with her."
She pauses.
"Because that's how it has to be," she adds, mimicking my words in a deep-sounding voice.
"That's how I've been doing things for years, yes," I say. "And it has worked pretty well for me."
"Why, though?" she presses. "Why did it have to be like this? And why did you come back for me?"
I shrug, sinking lower into the cushions of the couch next to her, as she continues to watch me.
"I had to come up with a way of protecting myself... and protecting others," I explain. "But you crushed that system."
Her face is unreadable, but her eyes remain centered on me, waiting for me to continue speaking.
I take in a deep breath, bracing myself to finally say the words that I've been afraid to say to her – or to anyone, for that matter – for so long.
"I'm an addict. A sex addict. I can't fuck or love like a normal person. I get obsessed with the one I’m with, and I’m consumed by cravings I can't control."
I pause, waiting for a reaction that doesn't come. Laura looks at me, calmly sipping her cocoa. She contemplates me over the steam rising from her mug, waiting for me to say more.
"Something like this has happened before," I continue. "Years ago. I was wild as a young man, fucking my way through life with a new girl almost every night. Always chasing a new skirt. It consumed me, it was my identity, and it took control over everything I was, and for a while it was my only ambition in life. Control, possession, conquering and fucking a new girl as often as I could.“ He pauses and hesitantly meets my gaze. "And then I met her. Her name was Sandria."
Laura inhales audibly. It's the first time she’s reacted since I started speaking. She looks hurt, her face contorting as if someone had poked her with a dagger. Is she disgusted by me? Or is she in pain?
Our eyes meet, and she waves me off.
"Go on," she says. "I need to hear this."
"I don't want to hurt you, doll."
She frowns, shaking her head.
"It's just jealousy, master," she says. "I'll survive."
She says it in such a matter-of-fact tone, it’s almost as if she's just stubbed her toe. Oh, it's just a little pain, nothing serious.
"I thought I was in love," I say, continuing on with my shameful tale. „She made me forget about every other girl. I no longer felt the need to go out to hunt for the next one after I met her. All my cravings were focused on her now, and I couldn't get enough. Sadly, she also made me forget about everything else, too. My life, my schoolwork, my future."
I pause for a second, noticing that Laura is tilting her head and casting me a questioning look.
"I was still in college back then, just about to graduate," I explain. "I almost fucked that up because of Sandria."
"What happened?"
"Pretty much this," I say, gesturing toward her. "I fell into a rage every time she left me. I hated the idea of her being with other people and not with me. I wanted to own her, completely, all of her. She needed to be with
me at all times – so I could fuck the living hell out of her and possess her entirely."
I pause, averting my eyes from hers.
"That's the kind of man I am. I kidnapped her, and then I locked her up, just like I did with you. She wanted to leave, but I didn't let her. I made her mine, my captive, and I tried to control who she was. She said she loved me and wanted to be with me, but once I stole her freedom away from her, she began hating me."
Laura shifts in her seat, visibly uncomfortable at hearing my story. But I can't stop now. She asked to hear it, she wanted me to be honest with her. So I am.
"Everything fell apart around me. People were searching for Sandria, I was missing exams at school, the college was close to expelling me, but I didn't waste a thought on it. All I could think about was her, fucking her, owning her. My cravings were insatiable. No matter what I did, I always wanted more. My brain was incapable of functioning. I have no idea what would have happened if they hadn't found her."
"They?" Laura asks.
"The police," I say. "They stormed my home because the neighbors heard a woman screaming. It's as simple as that. Back then, I wasn't the man I am today. I didn't have all of this. I just lived in a studio apartment, barely getting by while finishing school and building my startup – both of which I almost screwed up because of my addiction."
„But you didn‘t,“ Laura says softly, touching my arm. "You recovered."
"I just managed to catch myself," I interject. "They forced me into therapy, but I doubt that helped as much as everybody wants to believe. What really helped was my plan, the rules I set for myself. I had a lot of energy, a lot of ideas, and I put all of that into Onyx. Growing this empire gave me a different kind of satisfaction and it silenced the greedy monster inside of me, for a while at least. By the time I was seeing real success and living comfortably, I felt strong enough to feed my cravings again, but only in small doses."
I snort, feeling like an idiot now that I look back on all of it.
"I mean, I learned something about myself back then," I say. "I know what I'm like, and I know that I can't get attached to a woman ever again because I can't handle the obsession that comes with it. That's why I came up with this system, spending one intense night with a girl once a year, a different one each year. I tried to keep it safe and structured by buying escorts, girls that were pre-selected for me by an agency. This way, the rules would be clearly laid out upfront for everyone involved. The high price was just another way for me to keep my distance while still feeding my cravings."
