Chapter 38 Everett
THIRTY-EIGHT
EVERETT
He played me, and I fucking let him.
Kashton knew my next move just by reading my face. I was going to knock his ass out and run for it. Get the hell away from here. To save him. Instead, he challenged me, and I lost. Fair and square.
You’ll make the perfect dolly.
You’ll make the perfect whore. His words were like a knife to my chest. It made me angry. I had to fight. To show him that he didn’t own me. He won. I lost.
He may marry me, but I’ll be nothing more than a toy to him. I’ll never be known as a Lady in our world, and I’ll never get to be a mother in mine.
I sit on the end of my bed, gulping down a water while Kashton rushes around my house. He brought me home after he was done fucking my face and gave me a bath. I sat there in the tub in silence while he washed my hair and his cum off my trembling body.
Everything hurts, including my still burning nipples and pussy lips. I already want him to fuck me again, and it’s giving me mixed feelings. I’m not sure if that’s progress or regression.
I didn’t feel the need to vomit afterward, so maybe progress is the correct answer.
I look over the clothespins in my hand. Who knew something so small could be so powerful? Each one has one of the vows written in his handwriting.
They appear to look like any other wooden clothespin, but the ends have been dipped in something rough to cause pain when used.
“What is on these?” I call loud enough so Kashton can hear me.
He answers from my bathroom, knowing what I’m referring to. “I painted Mod Podge on the tips and then dipped them in coarse-grain sand. Once they were dry, I sprayed a clear lacquer over it to help seal them.”
He made these for me? I love how much thought he puts into making sure I feel…something. That he keeps me present when I want to curl into myself. Kashton wants me to know that he’s the one playing with me. That I’m getting off for him.
“Ready?” He exits my bathroom, pulling my Prada embroidered fabric trolley and matching duffel bag.
“Yeah,” I answer softly, getting to my feet.
While he was bathing me, he talked me into going back to Carnage with him. Well, I can’t say that—he told me we were going to Carnage, and I didn’t have the mental strength to argue with him.
If that was his plan, it worked. All Lords are calculated in how they play the game.
Taking my hand, he escorts me out to my garage and opens my passenger door. “You’re not following me?” I wonder.
“No. Leaving my bike in my garage. I’ll come get it another time.”
I fall into the car while he places my bags in the trunk before getting behind the wheel.
I look out my window. It’s still daylight. The clock tells me it’s a little after four p.m. How long were we in his basement? How many times did I come all over myself?
I can’t answer either question.
He reaches over, and my fingers automatically curl into his, holding his hand. It’s terrifying how good it feels to be wanted by someone you know will desert you when they find out who you truly are.
“How do you feel?” he asks, interrupting my internal rambling. He always knows when my mind slips away.
“Fine,” I answer.
“Eve.” He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “Talk to me.”
Laying my head against the headrest, I give him a reassuring smile. “Really. Just tired.” The sedative still lingers in my system.
“When we get home, I’ll have Jessie bring us some lunch and have Devin give you an IV. Afterward, we’ll take a nap. How’s that sound?”
Is he going to tie me up and make me wait to be played with while we nap? Fuck, I hope so. “Sounds good.”