Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
“I’m okay,” I lie. I’m so far from okay. I can’t even see okay from where I am anymore.
“No, you are fucking not.” The hard edge is back as he settles both hands on my shoulders, his index fingers massaging the sides of my neck as he pushes me forward. “I’ll make a fire. I think it’s time I showed you that deep down, I’m a romantic. I want to take care of my Cindy Lou. Even when I treat you like a filthy whore, it’s because it’s what you need.”
I shake my head, but he’s already guiding me so gently back to the great room. A part of me wonders if this version of the Grinch isn’t worse somehow. At least when he was using me and making me do those things, I could tell myself that it was wrong.
I already know, no matter how horrible this night has been, he’s let something out of the bottle I’ll never be able to put back. It’s like my sexuality is suddenly on fire, and I’m not sure there’s enough water in the world to put it out.
Down the hallway, he makes comments about the family pictures as we walk. Saying something about how the smiles on our faces are deceiving. My brain is like twisted spaghetti by this point, so I don’t question. I don’t argue.
Not just because I’m an intellectual disaster right now, but also because he’s right.
His cum is tugging my skin tight on my cheeks and forehead. I see it in my eyelashes when I blink. When I smile or raise my eyebrows, it flakes off and pulls like a beauty mask when it dries. I’m glad there are no mirrors in the room because I’m sure I look like I’ve been dragged behind the tractor through a manure pile.
I think my lack of interest in relationships and guys in general grew from the idea that I wasn’t desirable. Growing up under the gaze of a show horse of a mother, with her pageant sashes and trophies on display, her weight charts, and prioritizing trips to the salon over having food in the fridge, made me think that if I wasn’t ‘that’ girl, no one would want me.
I play tough, but in my creamy deep center, there’s a deep longing to be protected. To be the center of someone’s universe. So, with a flicker of softness from this maniac, my brain immediately jumps to maybe this is what I want.
He leaves me standing by the edge of the hearth on the fuzzy lambskin rug as he crouches down. The sinuous muscles in his back tugging under the skin. My claw marks are like red reminders of what I’ve endured since he stepped into my bedroom, and also, the torch of pleasure he lit inside me.
I stand silent, watching his hands move as he sets logs in a neat stack, then crumples newspaper from the pile Colbert always keeps in the crate next to the log holder. The crinkling sound and the way he’s humming Silent Night blanket me in a sense of warmth and nostalgia.
I think my mind has finally cracked, because I’m crying, but it’s not from fear. It’s the strangest sense of contentment and even…happiness.
“There. Isn’t that better?” He turns my way, the mask not even an oddity anymore as the fire starts to crackle and pop, flames jumping up between the logs.
I nod. “Are we done?”
He brushes his hands down the tops of his thighs, then pushes up, taking mine in his rough palms.
“You should know better than that by now, Cindy Lou. I have so many things I still want to do with you. Get down on the fucking rug.” He nods to my bare feet, the fire heating the front of my skin, then steps back, letting my hands fall at my sides. “Do a nice downward dog for me. If memory serves, the girl in your little story loved her yoga. Let’s play that out, see where it fucking goes.”
CHAPTER 7
“Stick that perfect, juicy bubble butt up in the air. I want the full view with you ass up, head down, baby. Daddy needs you to put that drippy little Cindy Lou cunt where I can see it all.”
I’m spent and shaking. Sticky and sweaty. Dizzy and hazy. I’m standing, staring at him. The mask doesn’t frighten me anymore, but he does. And I’ve learned over the last few hours, I have a fear kink.
Still, my brain knows that unknown things are dangerous, and before I follow his command, I ask, “What are you going to do to me?”
“Did I open the fucking floor to questions? No, this is my night, and you’ll do as I tell you. That is our deal, isn’t it? Or did you forget?” He reaches out to pat my head. “It’s okay, so much happening. So many orgasms, so many fantasies coming true. But,” he stalls, landing a hard smack on the side of my ass to break me out of my haze. “Now, assume the fucking position, Cindy.”