Chapter 27
Stella
We hadn’t turned on any lights in the living room, so it was especially creepy when Amos made a low clicking noise and called, “Hellooo,” out of the darkness in a high-pitched voice.
Theo stopped dead in his tracks, and I nearly ran into him.
“Where is he?” he asked.
“Far side of the room, in his cage.”
More clicking. “Ah, ha ha ha haaa.”
It was Amos’s usual cackle, but right now, even I could admit it sounded slightly terrifying.
Theo’s shoulders inched toward his ears. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” To prove my point, I slid past him and turned on the soft light in the kitchen.
It brightened the apartment just enough to make out the cage and plants, but Theo still hadn’t moved from my bedroom doorway. Not a fan of birds, then.
“Oh, Theo!” Amos cried in near-perfect mimicry of me.
Jesus. Had I really sounded like that?
Theo turned to me wearing an insufferable expression.
“He repeats what he hears,” I said, stating the obvious as I retreated to the kitchen. “Do you want water or anything before you go?” I shot him a smirk. “Since I did just drain you dry.”
His gaze slid down me, like he was wondering if we had time for round two. Oh, god, I hoped not. My vagina couldn’t handle it. Not after what he’d just done to me. What I’d practically begged him to do to me.
“Just water,” he finally said.
I snagged a bottle from the fridge and turned back around, freezing.
Theo stood by my couch, half bent over my coffee table. “What is this?”
The way his tone had shifted into pure glee was a clear indicator that he’d spotted something to torment me with, and I did a quick scan of the objects cluttering the table, worried I’d left something embarrassing out like a vibrator or my retainer or—oh, shit.
My sketch pad.
I tried to lunge at him, but he hip-checked me onto the couch, and while I was busy bouncing off it, he snatched up the sketch pad. It tumbled open in his hands, a loose paper sliding free. I cringed as a charcoal drawing of his bicep floated to the ground.
His smile widened as he flipped to the first page, and he shot me the most unctuous, self-satisfied look I had ever seen. “I knew you were obsessed with me.”
I launched myself off the couch and tried to grab it from him, but he held it out of reach, and I was not about to jump for it like a kid on a playground.
It was too late anyway. The damage was done and now his ego would be so big, there’d be no speaking to him.
Good thing this was our last night together.
A small frisson of disappointment wormed through me at the thought, and I tried to push it down.
Theo flipped another page, smile dropping, a line appearing between his brows. “These are really good.”
“Yes, and? You’ve seen my work. Why are you surprised?”
He shot me a look. “I wasn’t fully convinced you did it yourself.”
“Get out,” I said, pointing toward the door.
He ignored me, flipping another page. “Wow, you’re, like, really obsessed with me.”
I couldn’t believe I’d just had the best sex of my life with this asshole.
A tearing sound filled the apartment as he ripped a page free.
“Hey!” I said, reaching for it.
“I’m taking this one with me.” He flipped it around, and I saw his face in profile. It was probably the simplest sketch I’d made of him, his chin resting on his hand, looking bored.
“Why that one?” I asked, confused as to why he’d choose it over the much more elaborate pen-and-ink of him sitting on a throne, an ice crown on his head, flanked by faceless sycophants.
“It’s the first one you drew, so it must have been the moment you realized you were in love.”
“I am going to close my eyes, and by the time I open them, you better be gone.”
“Aww, don’t be mad.”
A hand slid around my waist. I cracked my eyes open, and yup, he was back to wearing his most obnoxious grin. The one that made me want to punch him.
“Goodbye, Stella,” he said, closing the distance between us. He gave me one last drugging kiss, and for some stupid reason, I let him.
Afterward, he stepped back and shot me a wink. “Text me when you realize you can’t live without me.”
“Goodbye forever,” I said.
With a laugh, he turned and left the apartment.
I waited a minute, and then followed after him to make sure he was really gone before I set the security alarm.
Once that was done, I headed back upstairs, where I fought my curiosity for a solid ten minutes before realizing it was a losing battle. With a sigh, I went downstairs again.
Elayne frequently did glow-in-the-dark tattoos, and she had a big black light in her booth that she turned on during the application process.
I took it into the shop’s bathroom and plugged it in, slipping my bathrobe to my waist and putting my back to the mirror.
Theo’s fingers had moved so slowly that I hadn’t been able to make out the letters as he’d written them.
The way he’d paused to drop kisses along the back of my shoulders and then down my ribs made me think he’d been in his feels, like maybe he wanted a little more time together to explore this inexplicable, totally fucked up, thing between us.
And what he’d said . . .
“If this is the only night we have together, I want to know you fell asleep with my words on your skin. That part of me is still here with you after I’m gone.”
He’d definitely written something sentimental or possessive. Something he probably hadn’t wanted me to see, but how else was I supposed to get a glimpse into what was really going on in that thick skull of his?
I turned the black light on and the lights off. My back glowed in the mirror, and it took me a second to decipher the words because they were not only backward, but slightly smeared.
F . . .
U . . .
C . . .
K . . .
Y . . .
O . . .
U.
Fuck you.
He’d written “fuck you” on my back in cum.
I was definitely going to see him again. Just once. To kill him.
I stomped back upstairs and grabbed my phone out of my soggy purse. Thankfully, it still worked.
FUCK ME? I texted him.
Wow, he responded. I was sure you’d wait at least a day before begging for it again, but I guess you’re more obsessed with me than I realized.
I dropped the phone before I gave in to the urge to hurl it across the room. He’d done this on purpose, and I’d played right into his hand. Anything I texted back would only add more fuel to the fire, give him the upper hand, and even more opportunities to taunt me.
Not this fucking time. I absolutely refused to take the bait.
I left my phone lying on the floor and turned to go scrub my back raw in the shower.
It was only when I laid down to go to sleep that I smiled, and then started laughing.
Uncontrollably. Because this might be the best practical joke anyone had ever played on me, and I didn’t think anything would ever top it.
■ ■ ■
Monday was the one day a week we were closed because it was the slowest for appointments.
I spent the morning running errands and trying to ignore the delicious ache between my legs, but moments from Saturday night kept popping into my mind.
Theo letting me take charge in the bathroom.
The excruciating pleasure of him yanking me onto his cock after I’d essentially ordered him to hurt me.
His big hands palming my breasts. The sight of us fucking, reflected in the mirror.
Yes, the sex had been amazing, but I’d enjoyed the power play just as much, and was equally shocked and thrilled by how eager Theo had been to do what I said.
He’d spent so long bossing me around that it felt nice to finally get my turn.
There was something exhilarating about having a massive man who could easily manhandle me be so willing to play submissive.
It was the first time I’d ever felt that way, wanted to dominate someone, and I’d been with a fair amount of partners.
It made me wonder if it was a me thing, a Theo thing, or an us thing.
I shook my head. It was probably a Theo thing. There was no way in hell I was his only sexual partner that wanted him to sit down and shut up.
An image of Theo bound and gagged shot through my mind, and I had to cross my legs on the bus.
I was headed to Runa’s, a bag of groceries by my feet. She’d been home for a few days, and I’d offered to swing by with some essentials. We both knew it was just an excuse for me to visit post-surgery.
She lived in an ADA-accessible building on the east side.
It was a one-bedroom unit on the third floor, with a renovated kitchen and a decent seasonal view of the small park out back.
This time of year, her windows were filled with green, making it looked like she lived in a treetop canopy because the oaks outside had gotten so tall.
She buzzed me in with her remote when I arrived, and I used my key to open the door so she wouldn’t have to get up.
“Hey,” I said, heading straight toward the fridge. “They were out of that brand of gluten-free pasta you like, so I found you a chickpea-based one instead.”
She made a retching noise from somewhere in the living room. “That shit falls apart in the water.”
“I asked the clerk, and he said this brand doesn’t do that.”
“We’ll see,” she said, sounding highly suspicious.
I put away the rest of her groceries and found her in the living room. My hands were behind my back, carrying a present I knew she was going to lose her mind over.
She lay sprawled out on the couch, her wheelchair sitting nearby because it would be a while before she was healed enough to use her prosthetics again.
On the TV was her favorite Dutch show, some period piece about a hotel near the ocean, the volume louder than normal because her washing machine was running.
I stopped by her side, and she hit pause and looked up at me.
“What have you done now?”
“I bought you something.”