Chapter 19 #2
“Can I shower first?” Lane’s nose wrinkles. “I smell terrible. How did you sleep with this stench in the air?”
“It’s not so bad,” I lie smoothly. I stand and hold a hand out to help him up.
When he’s on his feet, I tighten my grip and pull him closer.
Lane’s eyes flare, then harden, and I smile at the fight still left in him.
My actions and whatever he went through in his past didn’t fully break him completely.
In a low voice, I say, “I’m not ready to let you go yet, Lane.”
He nods slowly and says, “I know. I—”
“If you try to escape,” I talk over him, making him scowl but shut his mouth, “I will kill you and everyone you love. But if you stay, if you don’t try to leave, I won’t pose anyone else.”
I give him a meaningful look, waiting for him to understand what I’m saying to him.
It takes a moment, but it finally dawns, and his mouth opens and closes repeatedly, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know what.
Finally getting his bearings, he asks, “You won’t kill anyone?” I shake my head, maintaining eye contact so he knows I mean it. “You haven’t since I’ve been here?”
I start to tell him about the man outside the grocery store, but it’s not like I went through my ritual with that kill, so I don’t count it. “No. No one.” One little lie won’t hurt.
He lets out a long breath and raises a shaky hand to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. “That’s…that’s good. What do I have to do? To keep you from…killing?”
“Let me draw you. Whenever I want, however I want.” I tip up his chin so he can meet my eyes. I search his, trying to figure out why I want him so badly. Why the thought of him being in my home, waiting for me to sketch him, doesn’t have me wanting to pose anyone else.
Something about Lane being my live model excites me more than any of the other bodies I’ve staged by miles. I guess what Jacob said is true: while normal people love, we become obsessed. And I am obsessed with seeing Lane laid out perfectly for me.
Naked.
Clean-shaven face.
Damp, curling hair.
Knees up and legs spread.
His perfect hole on display.
The flash of how I want to see Lane flicks behind my lids between one blink and the next. I know he wants to shower, but I need to draw him.
“Sit in front of the window,” I order. “You need some sunlight.” He glances at his chain. “It’ll reach. Go.”
He does what I say but not without an adorable scowl that I’m coming to love. Lane sits in the chair and reaches for the curtain but looks at me before he pulls it back. I nod, and he opens the curtain, wincing at the bright light. “Careful,” I chastise.
“Yes, Daddy,” he grumbles sarcastically. But even with his tone, the title reaches a part of me I didn’t know existed.
Something lights me up inside, that word sending a zing of awareness and arousal through me. I never thought about that kink, but hearing Lane call me Daddy?
Yes. Fuck yes.
Stalking over to him, I grab Lane by the hair and pull his head back. He gasps and looks up at me with wide eyes. “If I tell you something, boy, you’ll listen, and you’ll be grateful for it.”
Lane’s eyes blow wide, and his pupils dilate. His lips tremble—whether from fear or arousal, I’m not sure—as he nods as best he can. “Yes, Daddy,” he whispers.
“Fuck,” I grunt before I lean down and crash our lips together. Lane makes a startled noise but kisses me back, threading his fingers through my hair.
I snatch my mouth from his, both of us breathing heavily. “Be a good boy and don’t move.”
Lane bites his bottom lip and nods.
Letting him go, I walk backward to the door so I can keep watching him.
Not because I think he’ll try to run—the chain he’s attached to has no give past the distance I allotted him, and he wouldn’t be able to run far if it did—but because I don’t want to take my eyes off him.
What the fuck will I do when I finally have to let him go?
I banish that thought immediately. I won’t be letting him go. I plan to keep Lane until one of us dies. He’ll learn to love his captivity.
I quickly make my way down to the basement where I left my most recent sketch pad and grab it.
As I walk upstairs, I flip to the last sketch I made of Lane: him naked and on his back in the cell, the bars hiding the best parts of him.
But I did manage to get a good rendering of his hard dick as he thought about me edging him.
The sketch is one of my best, but I don’t want the bars in the way. Sure, I could have drawn around them, but I sketch what I see. I enjoyed having him behind those bars, at my mercy, but I like seeing him better.
When I get back to my room, I sit on the side of the bed, pull out one of the charcoal pencils I keep in my nightstand drawer, and quickly start to draw how he looks in front of the window, gazing out over the land.
I get tunnel vision, my sole focus on what I saw in my mind, making it come to life.
After an untold amount of time, I sigh and blow on the page, ridding it of the charcoal shavings.
“Can I see?” Lane asks, startling me. I almost forgot he was there, I was so lost in what I was doing.
Smirking, I turn the sketch pad in his direction. Lane’s eyes bounce around the page, taking in what I drew. Then his eyes flick up to mine. “Is that how you see me…Daddy?”
Heat flows through my veins as I narrow my eyes at him. “Lane, you’re fragile from hunger and thirst. If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll have your ass, and you’re too weak to take my dick how I want to give it to you.”
His eyes grow wide, and his mouth drops open.
Flipping the sketch pad shut, I stand and reach into my pocket for the key to his ankle cuff. When I’m standing in front of him, I give him a hard stare. “Don’t try to get away from me, Lane or I will kill someone right in front of you and make you dispose of the body.”
Just when I think he’ll cower from the warning, he stands to his full height, his frail chest bumping against mine. “Save the threats, Ryell. I don’t want you to murder anyone else, so I’m staying.”
We stare each other down for a few moments before he sighs and drops his gaze. I kneel in front of him and undo his cuff. Lane twists his ankle a few times then quietly says, “Thank you.”
“Let’s get you a shower. I also have a fresh toothbrush and toothpaste.”
I lead him into the bathroom and start the shower for him.
When I turn around, I see Lane standing at the sink, wringing his hands as he stares at the garden tub by the shower.
“What is it, boy?” I ask.
He stares at the tub for a few seconds longer before he looks at me and asks, “Can you…can you wash me again? I…I really liked it.”
I smile and shut the shower off. “Of course, baby boy. Go ahead and brush your teeth while I fill up the tub.”
Lane eagerly grabs the toothbrush and toothpaste from the counter and brushes his teeth like he’ll never have the luxury again.
I get the bathwater started, adding some Epsom salt that should help him relax further.
“Don’t you have to work?” Lane asks around a mouth full of toothpaste.
“Not today. I take a day off every week so I don’t burn out or overwork my wrists.”
He nods as if he understands. “So you’ll be gone tomorrow?” I nod, wondering what he’s getting at. “What will I do while you’re gone? Will you…will you put me back in that cell?”
Lane trembles, though he tries to hide it.
I walk over and take him into my arms, kissing him on the forehead. “No. You’ll stay in here. The chain will let you roam around the room and get some sun. No more cell unless you try to escape, understand?”
He nods quickly, wiping at the tears leaking from his eyes. “I won’t, I promise. I don’t want to go back down there.”
“Okay, baby boy.”
I help him get undressed and into the tub.
Lane sighs deeply, tears still running down his face.
“It feels good. And waking up in a bed? That was nice. Daddy, I don’t want to lie to you.
I’m scared. Really scared. But…I can trust you to tell me when you’re done with me, right? So I’ll see my death coming?”
Grabbing the cloth from the side of the tub, I dip it into the water and run it across his back. Lane sighs more deeply. “Lane, I don’t think I’ll ever be done with you. Do you understand?” Lane looks at me and shakes his head. “Whatever this is, it ends when one of us dies. Got it?”
“I do. That just means that there are no more victims, right? At least for a little while?”
I’m silent, not confirming or denying because I don’t know. For now, I won’t kill anyone, but in one year? Five? Ten? I might want a new victim, and my obsession with Lane won’t interfere with that.
I guess we’ll see what the future holds.