Chapter Eleven
Tyson
It’s three in the morning.
And I’ve been fucking sitting here, still fully naked in the corner of the dark room for hours now, my eyes glued to her sleeping form. So small and vulnerable.
After our thorough fucking, Malory passed out in my arms since I couldn’t bring myself to let go of her, couldn’t bear the thought of not having her skin against mine.
When the air around us turned cold and the last ember burned out, I finally carried her to bed, tucking her in after cleaning up the mess I left between her thighs.
I’ve never come so hard.
Just thinking about it is making my cock harden all over again.
The feeling of her warm, wet pussy wrapped around me like a vice, squeezing me tightly for every last drop.
Fuck. If I don’t get my head straight, I’ll pounce on her while she’s asleep because apparently, I’m not above somnophilia when it comes to this girl.
It wasn’t nearly enough. It’ll never be.
Of that I’m certain.
I would have continued pounding her addicting cunt for hours if I wasn’t concerned that I’d hurt her. And I certainly never gave a shit about that with the whores I used to fuck.
Malory is different. She’s innocent and precious.
Nothing someone like me should’ve ever gotten his hands on. But it’s too late for that.
She’s beyond saving. She’s mine.
When she told me that I’m her first, I couldn’t contain my need to claim all of her right then and there.
Given her sheltered upbringing, I suspected her inexperience, but I couldn’t be entirely certain of it.
Hearing her confirm my suspicions made something animalistic in me snap with need to conquer, to possess.
No other man will ever touch her and walk away alive. I’ll make sure of it if it’s the last thing I do.
Gripping the armrests of the chair, I hear the wood creak beneath my palms as I fight to stop myself from climbing into bed with her.
I’m itching to hold her, to feel her bare body against mine. But I don’t think I’m capable of not fucking her again.
Her tiny moans of discomfort were the most wondrous sounds I’ve heard in my life, making my cock throb with the need to fill her up as my obsession surged with possession, forcing me to thrust into her without restraint, tearing through her virgin pussy.
Besides if she woke up with me in bed beside her, she’d probably freak out. Already I’ve crossed too many lines too fast, yet all my plans of taking it slow as to not overwhelm her seem to dissolve the moment I have her pliant body in my arms.
Malory is the perfect counterpart to my empty darkness, the perfect submissive made just for me.
Like I knew she would be.
It comes naturally to her. And since she’s only started exploring that part of her, I’ll be by her side every step of the way, showing her everything her body’s capable of.
It’s going too well for me to fuck it all up just because I can’t control my primal instincts.
Her whole life she’s been controlled by her parents and my girl made the best of it. Yet the fact remains that she doesn’t realize how much it has affected her, how her introvert tendencies and self-imposed loneliness are their doing. Subconsciously, Malory made their choices hers as if they were her own, never knowing any better.
Until I came along.
It all became painfully clear to me the moment I started watching her. Human behavior has never been of much interest to me but she’s fascinating, addicting.
It’s like I’ve known her all my life yet at the same time can’t fully grasp her. That doesn’t stop me from trying though.
My gaze sweeps over the drawing utensils and sketchbook peeking from her old backpack, still unpacked.
Before I brought her here, she used art as an escape from reality, to be free in her own head I presume.
Yet since I made her mine, she hasn’t touched any of it and I’m not sure what to make of that.
It’s not that I want to change her and certainly not force her into something she doesn’t want. Apart from the kidnapping of course.
Despite who I am, I want to offer her the freedom she never had, I want to see her bloom and maybe with time she’ll realize that I did this for her. For us.
I want to bind her to me in every way possible and never let go. But I also want her to come to me willingly since everything up until now has been more or less forced upon her.
On some level, seeing her thrive does bring me a certain amount of satisfaction I didn’t believe myself capable of.
I shake my head, trying to calm my raging thoughts. And my dick.
This tiny being is going to be the end of me.
Standing up, I reach for the leather-bound sketchbook.
Maybe this will help me solve the enigma that’s peacefully asleep on the bed, completely oblivious of my presence. With her chestnut curls splayed over the pillow, looking ethereal as the moonlight bounces off her pale skin.
So what if I’ve been salivating over her for half the night, it’s not like this is my first time watching my girl sleep.
I’m sure Malory has a hunch about my obsession since I’m not exactly trying to be subtle about it.
Hence me snooping through her drawings to get some insight. Fuck privacy.
Her body might be willing, but her mind remains cautious and for good reason.
Even my half-brothers learned to keep their distance from me. Though Malory never cowered before me, she might have been wary but never truly afraid and that cannot be said for most grown men.
Ever since I killed my father, I had no weaknesses.
Nothing can get to you when you’re not attached to anyone in the first place. There’s no leverage people could use against you.
At least that’s how it used to be up until now.
For both our sakes, and most importantly for her safety, I should not have given in.
Yet letting her go is not an option. That’s why no one can know about her existence.
Malory must become dead to the world just like me if she ever wants to walk freely amongst others again.
I guess it’s a good thing she isn’t the most social person out there, but this isn’t the life I want for her. She deserves so much more than what I can offer her up here, secluded in the cabin.
My eyes rake over her exposed neck and shoulders peeking from under the duvet, my marks scattered all over her porcelain skin, everywhere my mouth could reach.
Still, it wasn’t enough.
I doubt anything ever will be.
My cock hardens fully between my legs, still covered in her come and virginal blood. I couldn’t bring myself to erase the evidence of her innocence.
Malory’s dainty body squirming beneath mine was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and that’s something coming from an unfeeling bastard like me.
Yet there’s this constant need for more.
And fucking more.
I thought I was obsessed by just watching her back in San Francisco. But it was nothing compared to touching her, to feeling her tight pussy wrapped around me.
It’s not just physical though. I like having her near me, seeing the way she smiles at the plants crammed into every nook each time she passes them, seeing how her eyes sparkle when I approve of her decorations even though I’ve told her time and time again that this is her home and she can do whatever she wants with it.
I mean fuck, she had tears in her eyes when she caught me drilling into the ceiling to mount her hanging plant like it was the first time anyone did anything just for her.
Flipping through the pages, most of the paintings are impeccably detailed studies of plants with some landscapes in between.
Her love for nature isn’t new to me since it’s one of the few things we have in common, but this is incredible.
My girl is fucking talented.
As silently as possible, I go to return the sketchbook where I found it, but as I’m trying to fit in back into place, a folded piece of paper slips out.
It looks old, with frayed edges and countless creases like she has looked at it hundreds of times.
One of the things about not having emotions is that I don’t feel guilty about stuff like this.
It’s exactly what I was looking for, a window into her innermost thoughts. So, I unfold it.
Dreams
- plant an apple tree
- sleep under the stars
- do a road trip along the West Coast
My brows furrow as I keep rereading it.
This is truly all she wants out of life.
While other people dream of success and money, Malory wants a fucking apple tree.
Even I’m not that humble.
For me, life has always been about getting revenge until it became about owning her.
Conveniently both of those things were accomplished in one swing, so what else is there for me to do than fulfill Malory’s dreams.
I have none for myself.
Yeah I have goals, but dreams are a concept for someone who can feel hope. And I haven’t done that in a fucking long time.
From the looks of the scrap of paper, she’s had this for a long while, wishing for those three simple things that I could so easily give her.
I could make her dreams a reality.
And as soon as I’m finished with these three, she can think of more and more for me to fulfill.
With one last look at my sleeping obsession, I silently close the door behind me.
I’m a man with purpose now.