Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
When Rome heard me speak, she stiffened slightly. Her eyes didn’t blink, and she watched me with concentration. She didn’t even breathe, like making a single sound would chase me away.
“He told me the act of punishment isn’t what gets to people. It’s the anticipation. Waiting and knowing what’s coming is worse than the pain itself. It does crazy things to the body, makes it clench up with anxiety. Your heart palpitates, and you sweat out your entire body weight. The feeling of doom drowns you.”
She moved her hands to her lap and kept her eyes on me the entire time.
“When I did something my father didn’t agree with, he told me I would be punished. But he never told me when or how. I had to use my imagination to figure it out on my own.”
For the first time, she blinked. She waited so long that her eyes started to water.
“My punishments were always served during the night. He waited until I went to sleep, and just when I was in the land of dreams, he would strike. He would yank me from the bed, hitting me with a bat or doing things I won’t speak of. The punishments themselves were never the worst part. It was trying to fight sleep because I knew what was coming. It was exhausting myself by trying to stay awake that killed me. It was the suffocating feeling of wondering when he was going to get me. That was the worst part, by far.”
Her eyes continued to water, but not because she hadn’t blinked.
“That’s why I can’t sleep with anyone. If someone’s lying next to me, I won’t be able to sleep. And if I do fall asleep, I’ll have nightmares. I need the door locked so I know no one can get to me. When I told you it had nothing to do with you, I meant it.”
“Calloway…” She reached for me and placed her hand around my wrist.
I stared at her hand, momentarily feeling bliss run through my veins. It was one of the few times she touched me, and I didn’t immediately think of pinning her down against the mattress and having my way with her. All I thought about were her fingertips and how soft they felt against my skin. Her hand was cold in comparison to mine, and the effect was oddly soothing.
But then it disappeared just as quickly as it came. “Don’t feel bad for me.” I looked into her eyes and gave her a command, a silent one. She had to obey me since I gave her the same respect.
She closed her eyes for thirty seconds, taking my words to heart. When she opened them, her usual look of resilience had returned. She gave me that closed-off expression, hiding her thoughts. “Of course.” My request was something she understood too well, and I didn’t have to fight her over it. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Not sure why I did.” I didn’t owe her anything. The two of us were spending time together and exploring each other. There was no love involved. Forever certainly wasn’t involved either. But my body was constantly aching for hers, and not just the swell of her breasts or her tight pussy. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and protect her from the world.
I also wanted to give her the world.
“I do.” She wrapped her finger around mine, making them hook together. Her voice carried like a whisper, softer than the wind and nearly inaudible.
I only heard it because I was staring at her lips.
“We’re the same, Calloway.”
We’re not the same. I was the dark, and she was the light. If she really knew me, understood the type of kinky shit I was into, she’d understand we were nothing alike. Maybe she possessed some of the same heartache. Maybe she understood true suffering. But even then, we weren’t on the same level.
And we never would be.
When I went downstairs the following morning, it smelled like pancakes and vanilla mixed together. The scent wafted through the kitchen and all the way up the stairs, making the house smell better than it had in years.
She stood at the stove and shoveled flapjacks onto a plate before she turned off the burners.
I didn’t want to scare her, so I chose to stare at her instead. She wore a tight, black pencil skirt with a teal blouse. I loved both colors on her because they complimented the shade of her skin. It was darker than cream but lighter than tan. And it was so soft. You could tell just by looking at it.
I wondered how red it could get.
She turned in my direction, probably to walk out of the kitchen and let me know breakfast was ready. She stopped in her tracks and covered her chest like she was about to have a heart attack. “Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me.”