Chapter 18
Kinsley
Get A Hobby
Work was busy, but my mind wouldn’t let go of the exchange between Alek and me. I couldn’t believe the nerve of him. Telling me what to do and then suggesting I spend one night with him. Could I? Did I want to?
Each moment I spent in his presence, I found myself secretly loving it. And don’t get me started on how his lips felt sucking on my neck. I thought the nuzzling turned me on. But damn if I didn’t feel slightly disappointed when I looked in the mirror and didn’t see a mark.
Then there was something sweet about the worry lines on his forehead this afternoon when he instructed me to be aware of my surroundings. He was right, too. If Owen knew I wasn’t being careful, he’d be so disappointed.
But Owen wasn’t here anymore, and that thought only brought tears to my eyes. I was so lonely without him. I wasn’t built to be alone; it was my greatest weakness.
When we were kept, the isolation nearly destroyed me. I had learned how to compartmentalize the physical abuse I endured by shutting that part of my brain down. But at night, when I was alone in my room, I craved a friend. I was too afraid to play with the dolls in my room in any significant way for fear they’d be taken away from me as punishment.
Hence another reason my bears were so important to me. I shared with them my innermost fears and dreams. Now they knew all about Alek and how much he confused me. They were my only loyal companions, my secret keepers. I had so much to tell them tonight when I got home.
“Kinsley, you ready to go?”
Brian called my name, bringing me out of my fog.
“Oh, yes. Sorry, yeah I’m ready.”
We’d closed together tonight.
As soon as we stepped outside, I spotted the car. It stood out, as there weren’t any other cars around, and the windows were tinted black. My nerves kicked up a few notches until the driver rolled down the window. It was the man who worked for Alek—the one who helped me get Sarah to the Uber.
“Wonder who that is?”
Brian asked.
“No clue,”
I lied, walking in the opposite direction of the car and Brian.
“I’m this way. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I waved at him.
“Want me to walk you? I don’t mind, honestly. You shouldn’t be out this late alone anyway,”
Brian said, giving the car a suspicious look.
“Thank you, but it isn’t necessary. I’ll be fine.”
I dug out my earbuds, grinning. I put them both in, started my playlist, and began the short walk home.
If Aleksandr was going to hire someone to follow me home, I might as well enjoy my music. It was confirmed when the car turned around and followed closely behind me. I wondered if Alek was inside. Creeper. I stopped, and the car stopped as well. I stood with my hands on my hips, staring. The driver leaned out the window.
“Need some help, Ms. Taylor?” he asked.
“Me, need help from your boss? Never. Tell me something, though. Does your boss’s father also provide immunity to you? What’s your name, by the way? I’d like to add it to the complaint I plan to file tomorrow.”
He laughed and said, “It’s Marcus.”
He punched a button on his dashboard. “Hey, chief. Ms. Taylor would like you to know that I’m following her home. Yes, I’ll let her know.”
He punched a button again.
“The chief said to let you know he is looking forward to meeting you at the gala.”
“Wow, I’m speechless. What you and the chief are doing is called enabling. It’s actually very dangerous. Get him some help,”
I said, shaking my head.
Be real. You have no intention of filing any complaint, stupid girl. I swore under my breath.
I turned away from him and continued my way home, blaring my music. Ignoring Marcus when he honked several times, I gave him the bird once I got to my house.
He rolled down the window once more and yelled, “Have a good evening.”
Shaking my head, I went inside, showered, and was drying off when I heard the familiar buzz of a notification. I grabbed my phone, entered my code, and smiled. Right on cue.
REAPER:
You disappoint me. Not only did you disobey me by wearing both earbuds, but it was so loud that you didn’t hear Marcus. When are you going to learn?
KINSLEY:
News flash, Reaper, I don’t care if you’re disappointed in me. Disobey you? I thought we already established I’ll never obey you.
If he only knew I’d done it on purpose. I smiled, feeling confident since he wasn’t standing in front of me.
REAPER:
You do know what happens to brats who disobey, right?
Brat, huh? I’d show him brat. I grinned as my fingers flew over the keypad.
KINSLEY:
You’re not in a position of authority over me. Fuck off.
REAPER:
Now, that’s a word we can discuss anytime.
KINSLEY:
What word? You’re hard to follow. It’s late. I have work tomorrow. What do you want?
REAPER:
Go to dinner with me. Notice that was NOT a question.
We were back here again. I took a deep breath and typed, hitting send before I could change my mind. I could handle him over the phone. It was the in-person thing I was struggling with. Hence why I refused to go out with him. I was acting foolishly—I knew that. But I wasn’t stupid enough to think I could actually manage him on a date.
KINSLEY:
I know you probably rarely get told no, so this is a new concept for you. I get it, new things can be scary. You should find someone to talk to. Call Marcel. I’ll bet he’d let you cry on his shoulder.
REAPER:
You’re cute. I find myself increasingly curious about you.
KINSLEY:
Sounds like a personal problem. There’s no shame in getting help.
REAPER:
Want to know what I think?
KINSLEY:
Not particularly, but since when has that ever stopped you?
He called me a brat, after all. I flicked my eyes to my bears, and I could almost imagine if the real Winter were here, she’d grab my phone from me. Hell, she’d break it to prevent me from further antagonizing him.
REAPER:
I think you are hiding something. I want to know what it is.
Crap.
His subtle way of asking without asking questions, the way he pushed my boundaries and was tearing down my walls, made me hesitate. The rational part of me screamed that I should have blocked him by now, but I hadn’t, and that made him dangerous. The attention was nice.
You’re playing with fire. Best take your own advice, stupid girl. Get some help.
KINSLEY:
Will it get you to go away?
My fingers seemed to have a mind of their own.
REAPER:
No, not likely. But, again, you’re cute. So, tell me, what are you hiding?
KINSLEY:
I’m an international super spy.
REAPER:
Now you’re just being childish and evasive like you were with Marcel. So, I’ll ask again, what are you hiding?
I realized quickly that I was only encouraging his interest with these messages. Switching gears, I resorted to telling him off again.
KINSLEY:
My life is not any of your fucking business. The sooner you understand, the better off we’ll be.
REAPER:
That word again. Is this how you want to play?
KINSLEY:
You’re mental. I’ve told you a hundred times I don’t want to play with you. If you’re looking for friends, I suggest taking up a hobby.
Again, my eyes flicked to the bears, and I knew Autumn would scoff, especially at the play part. She would absolutely call me out for the liar I was.
REAPER:
You’re my new hobby.
And this was where Summer would come to my rescue. She’d tell me to ignore the negative Nancy and help me pick out something to wear for a date with Alek. After all, one date couldn’t hurt, right? I’d have to do it someday, so why not with the blond Viking-like god of a man?
REAPER:
Are you ready for your next question?
REAPER:
Kinsley, did I lose you?
I sat there, lost in my thoughts. Then my phone pinged again.
REAPER:
Don’t make me bang on your door and wake your neighbors.
Now he was going to be an obnoxious asshole again. I had no doubt he would, too. As I was getting ready to type my response, reminding him he wasn’t my boss, my phone rang. Taking a deep breath, I answered it.
“We can add impatience to the list of your negative traits,”
I said, trying to sound confident.
“You categorizing my traits, kitten?”
His voice was low and sexy, making me sigh.
“I’m collecting information. I prefer to know who I’m dealing with. Especially if they exhibit mental disorders. Cluster B comes to mind.”
“Really, and what would that be?”
“A simple Google search will give you all the info you need. Or, better yet, as I said earlier, call Marcel. He can explain it in great detail, I’m sure.”
“Maybe I’ll do that, but you could help by summarizing it for me.”
“You’re such a weirdo. Cluster B mental disorders are characterized by dramatic and erratic behavior. Sound familiar?”
“Hmm, dramatics, you say?”
“Look, I’m no doctor, so it’s best to consult with a professional for a proper diagnosis.”
“Like Dr. Marcel,”
he said, his voice laced with humor.
“Exactly. Don’t even get me started on narcissistic personality disorder.”
“And you think I fit that description? I’m impressed. You’ve done some homework here.”
“It’s easy to see—especially the inflated sense of importance and the deep need for excessive attention and admiration. Should I go on?”
I asked sweetly.
“By all means, please do. I could listen to you talk for hours. But what I’d love is to hear you scream my name as I—”
“What on earth is wrong with you?”
I exclaimed. “You would go there, and you wonder why I won’t go out with you. You’re such an asshat.”
“We’re going to need to work on your language. It’s quite unattractive.”
His voice grew stern again, less playful.
Struck a nerve, good. We’re even now.
“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll make sure to curse like a fucking sailor anytime I’m stuck in your goddamn presence. Could you ask whatever fucking question you have so I can go to bed?”
What is wrong with me and my mouth?
I vowed to make an appointment for myself with a professional first thing tomorrow morning. Continuing to egg on Aleksandr King wasn’t the brightest idea. Somewhere deep inside, I knew that.
But then, I’d never been particularly good at learning unless a hard lesson was attached to it. Thinking about learning from him made my thighs quiver.
“Ahh, how sweet. You do want to be in my presence. I’m touched, but very well, since you seem to love the word fuck, your next question is: What is your favorite fucking position? How does my kitten like to be fucked?”
“Wow. Let me think. That’s a hard one.”
I clapped my hand over my mouth.
Idiot. Walked right into that one.
“I can show you hard anytime,”
he growled, low and deep.
Oh, man, his voice was doing things to me. I exhaled sharply, thinking about what he’d feel like. His chest was hard under my fingers this afternoon, and if the rest of him was the same…Man, oh man, I needed to stop this now.
“Are you feeling shy all of a sudden? You can text it if that’s easier. But understand, if you fail to do so, there’ll be consequences, and I can think of several fun ones for you.”
Typical Alek. Started out sweet and considerate, and then he had to go and ruin it. Which only reminded me that his primary goal was to get me in his bed. Nothing more, nothing less. The date was a way in for him.
“You and your consequences,”
I scoffed.
“Can I tell you something? I almost hope you don’t answer. I have something special in mind for you, kitten.”
Now he was just making fun of me. I suddenly felt ashamed of myself. Why am I even engaging him like this? All it was doing was sending mixed signals. No wonder he wouldn’t leave me alone. It angered me on a different level.
“You and your stupid games. What’s next, old man? Spin the bottle? And there’s no need to text. I have no issue telling you I like to be fucked by nonmental, non-Reaper creepers, and men who aren’t potentially narcissistic. Specific enough for you?”
I hung up my phone and turned it off. Making sure my curtains were closed, I removed my towel and changed. It took me forever to get to sleep, and when I did, I dreamed about him.
Ididn’t answer one of his never-ending personal questions, and my consequence was dancing for him in only my panties.
His song choice—and of course he would choose something about fucking—Tank’s “When We,”
began playing. I danced for him, and as the song ended, he took me over to the bed, pushed me down, and pulled my panties off.
“Be a good girl and touch yourself,”
he commanded.
I heard myself saying “Yes, Sir”
as my hand began playing with my nipples.
He stood watching me, taking deep breaths. I let my hands trail down my stomach, his eyes following the progression. I started with slow, small circles on my clit. Having him watch me turned me on wildly, making me move my fingers faster, with more pressure, seeking release.
His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and his breathing became irregular. He wanted me, and I loved having him watch me like this. My breath caught in my throat as the pulsing in my clit and the heat between my thighs grew intense.
As he climbed onto the bed, I couldn’t help but notice the softness of the mattress beneath me, sinking into it as if being enveloped in a warm embrace. Suddenly, he crawled over me like a wolf, his eyes burning with desire as he regarded me as his prey.
He growled low in his throat, sending shivers down my spine, and my heart pounded in my chest, my breath coming in short gasps. His hands caressed my neck and breasts, each touch sending a wave of heat through me, while his lips followed the same pattern, tracing a path of desire along my skin.
The sensation was overwhelming, my body responding eagerly to his every touch, and I could feel myself losing control as the rising tide of passion threatened to consume me.
I pushed my chest into his hands, begging for more. His lips latched on to one of my nipples, and a ripple of pleasure shot through me. My fingers found his silky-smooth hair and tugged as he drew my nipple deeper into his mouth. My voice bounced off the walls as I cried out his name.
He pushed my legs wide with his body, his voice erotic as he said, “Spread your thighs nice and wide for me, kitten.”
His gaze zeroed in on the spot between my legs, then his head was between them. His tongue swirled over and around my clit as I arched my back, moaning. It felt so fucking amazing. He sucked on my clit feverishly, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me.
His hands gripped my ass hard, lifting my legs and tossing them over his shoulders. The silky strands of his hair tangled between my fisted grip once more. A shiver rippled through me as he flattened his tongue and ran it down the length of me, pulling back. I could barely breathe. It was so intense.
“Please don’t stop,”
I begged him.
His mouth descended once more, and the familiar feeling of my impending orgasm continued to build and then finally crested. I cried out his name once more as he sucked me. The intensity of my orgasm finally burst through me, racking my body.
I woke up instantly, panting as I lay on my stomach with both hands in my panties. Feeling shame, as I did whenever I touched myself, I rolled over on the bed. I vowed I was officially done engaging him. He was invading my dreams, and that scared me.
I looked at my clock, finding it was still early. Knowing sleep would not come again, I got up, made my way into the bathroom, and showered, then got ready for the day shift at the café.
Grabbing my things, I headed for the door, startling when it rattled with a knock. I checked the peephole and found it was Marcus. Sighing, I opened it.
“Good morning. I have this for you.”
He stood there holding a large box and a small gift bag.
“Come in, then,”
I said, not wanting to argue in front of the neighbor across the way who was being nosey.
“I’ve been instructed to ensure you open the package,”
he commanded.
It was easier to just do as he requested instead of arguing when I knew he wouldn’t leave until I did what Alek wanted. I took a deep breath and slid the lid off. It was covered in tissue paper, and on the top was a card. It was an invitation to a black-tie event being held in honor of the chief of police. A smaller card sat inside.
Kitten, I will come for you. You will accompany me.
He signed it with a hand-drawn hourglass, and I shook my head. Marcus was watching me, so I tried to be cool and not let him see how it was affecting me. I was completely overwhelmed.
Aside from Owen, no one had ever bought me anything. Aleksandr was sending a clear message by doing this—he wanted obedience from me. I was torn between wanting to do just that and hating myself for even considering it.
I lifted the material from the box. The dress was stunning. It was black, sleek, and sexy. It was shockingly low cut, and the skirt had Swarovski elements embroidered on it. I gasped. It was exquisite and expensive. There was more—a pair of Rene Caovilla stilettos.
The delicate pair of high stilettos had a thin band on the toe and foot. It had sensual spirals at the ankle and was covered in matching rhinestones. Romantic flowers were applied along the rhinestone bands and the snake spiral. They looked like they would be a perfect fit. I set the heels down, and Marcus gestured toward the bag. I hesitantly pulled the tissue paper out and gasped.
He bought me an embroidered lingerie set. It was deliciously wicked looking. There was even a garter belt and suspenders. The thigh-high stockings were silky against my fingers. I’d never seen anything so beautiful. Why would he do this?
As I stood there, a whirlwind of emotions consumed me. His attraction to me and my subsequent attraction to him had ignited some serious inner turmoil. And damn if it wasn’t plaguing my every thought. How could I deny the chemistry that crackled between us?
Was this grand gesture merely a means to an end—a calculated move on his part to get me to open up the tightly sealed vault of my past and spill my secrets? I asked myself once more, why would he do this?
Because he wants to fuck you as he has told you time and again.
The most terrifying part of all of this? Everything he’d purchased looked like a perfect fit. How could he know that? It was too much. I looked at Marcus. Overwhelming sensations struck me all at once. Nausea churned in the pit of my stomach, and my head spun.
It was getting hard to think, and I tried to grasp on to any amount of clarity I could. And as my stomach muscles clenched, a harsh realization cut through my racing thoughts—I had done this to myself. In my yearning for connection, I had willingly stepped into this intricate dance, unaware of what the hell I was doing.
“Ms. Taylor, are you okay?”
Marcus asked, concern etched across his face.
I carefully put the items in the box. “I’m sorry. I can’t accept this. Please take it back. Give your boss this message from me.”
I took a pen from the counter and scribbled on the back of the smaller card.
I’m not a whore. You can’t buy me. I’m not for sale.