24. Doll #3
There’s no denying that. It’s good quality plastic, but the woman is plastic.
She’s also my twin.
The same brown hair. The same wide grey eyes. The same freckles… that’s me.
I whip my head, staring at Connor. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m not seeing what I’m seeing. Tell me—
“Now that I have the real thing, I don’t need her anymore. And with the new year coming so quickly… I figure I’d say goodbye.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about. Need her? I swallow the lump in my throat. “Need her for what?” I croak out.
Connor reaches out. I don’t want his dirty hand anywhere near me. I stumble away from him, ignoring the flash of disappointment—the flash of anger—that crosses his features.
It’s gone in an instant. He replaces it with one of his trademark smirks as he says, “Didn’t you wonder how I knew what I was doing? I practiced.”
Practiced?
He nods. And then he says, “She’s a sex doll, Haven,” and I feel like my eyes are going to pop out of my head.
“Blame Adrian,” Connor continues. “I made a jealous comment about how he at least got to bang Loni before she took off on him. He… didn’t take it too well.
He sent me some blondie sex doll and a note that said he hoped it held me over since we both knew damn well I couldn’t Claim you while Loni was gone and Adrian couldn’t Claim her.
“Joke’s on him. He gave me the idea. You don’t want to know how much it cost me to have a doll made to look exactly like you.
But I always knew it would be Haven Smith for me or no one, and that included sex toys.
If I was going to fuck a doll to get the edge of, it was going to be a doll of you, babe. ”
I know then that there’s no return to sanity for me because that… that actually sounds sweet.
Deranged, but sweet.
Just like Connor himself.
Six months ago, I would’ve been freaked the fuck out to know that Connor had a sex doll made to look like me. Even more disturbed to know that he’s spent close to a decade fucking it because it was the closest thing he could get to sleeping with me.
Now?
It gives me an idea.
It’s Christmas Eve. And though I don’t necessarily want him to think of it as my only gift to him, I’ve been thinking about this ever since I realized that Connor needed me so bad, he used a sex doll in place of me.
He never cheated. He couldn’t. Even when I had no idea that he considered me his, he was loyal to the idea of me, and now he’s my husband.
I can’t always be willing to give him love and affection. As the days passed, I think my dependency on him rivals his obsession with me. Still, I won’t deny that he’s my husband now.
In the Order, that comes with expectations.
Married Owed couples are expected to sleep together in the same bed at least once a week no matter what.
The implication is that they’re expected to fuck, and expected to breed.
Infertility is a bitch. You don’t lose your standing if you can’t have children, and there are many Owed couples who don’t.
You’re still expected to try, and I’ve spent the last few days thinking about the doll, thinking about Connor’s needs, and thinking about our future before I grab a notepad during the middle of Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer and begin writing.
I’m not strong enough to use words for this. Words are too easy to take back, and I’d rather have the offer in writing so that Connor knows that I… I mean it.
I think I want kids someday, but not know. Not yet. I’m not ready. I don’t know when I will be. But the implant… I don’t want to remove it until the rest of the five years is up. I need you to know that.
I poke Connor in the side, show him the page.
He begins to read. Stops. Picks up the remote and pauses the movie so that he can focus on what I’ve written down.
He shifts his seat, blue eyes gleaming. “Sweetheart… I want you. I mean, yeah, I want kids someday, too, but only if you’re their mother. If you’re not ready, we’re not ready. I know I fucked-up with the implant. It stays where it is until you say so. Yeah?”
I nod.
I also don’t know if I’ll ever be the type of woman who can let you take control. It scares me too much… and I don’t like to be scared. You take care of me, Connor. That’s what you do. I want to do that for you, too.
“You do, Haven. Just by being you.”
I wish I could believe that.
I’ll try. But I’ve been thinking…
Oh, jeez.
I set the pen down. “I want to be your doll.”
Connor blinks. “Excuse me?”
“If I can’t… I mean, if you want to and I’m sleeping…” I shake my head. “Sometimes I need help to sleep.” I need to be sedated. “When that happens, if you want to… you know. You can.”
My husband sucks in a breath. “Are you telling me that, if I want to take you while you’re unconscious, I can?”
I nod.
You have my permission. I want you to. I want to be your new doll.
“But you’re my wife—”
“Both,” I grit out. “Let me be both, Connor.”
I need this. I don’t know why, but I do, and whether it’s because it Christmas or because it’s forever, Connor reluctantly agrees.
Why wouldn’t he?
He gives me everything.