Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
ISAIAH
Iwould always be honest with her, even when we were playing our games. But she didn’t need to know that every fact I gave her in the game of two lies, one truth, was all true for me. I wasn’t necessarily hiding it about myself; I just didn’t see the point in making anything up.
I didn’t have a driving license because by the time I’d escaped that hell hole called Clivesdon House, I didn’t want any paperwork that could be used to track me down.
I was lucky I’d never been pulled over by the police.
I’d hate to have to kill an innocent person to save myself, but I’d do what needed to be done to stay on this side of the prison walls.
I had a job to do, after all, tracking the men down.
I’d chosen the fourteenth for my birthday because I liked that number. It felt like a good date for my birthday, not that I ever celebrated. Why would I celebrate a day I wished had never happened?
The first dead bodies I saw were my parents’ when I was three years old.
And to be honest, I probably stayed silent for a lot longer than four years when I was living at Clivesdon House.
Being trapped in a prison with a load of paedophiles when you’re a kid will do that to you.
But the actual number didn’t matter. The number I preferred was how many of them I’d killed after I’d escaped.
And then she told me she didn’t think she’d ever find love. That she’d live alone forever, and I wanted to say, ‘You’ll never be alone as long as there’s breath in my body,’ but I didn’t. I kept that inside and did what I could to make her feel better.
I didn’t know what it felt like to have emotions like normal people, but with her, things were different. There was a sense of empathy there, and I knew I’d do anything for her. I’d kill for her. I’d die for her, too, if it came to it. My life wasn’t worth shit. But hers was.
She fell asleep in my arms, and I stroked her hair to soothe her, thinking back to the first time I’d seen her, and how I wanted to use her to get to her father.
None of that mattered anymore. I couldn’t care less about him walking away all those years ago.
Because in doing what he did, he’d given me the need, the overwhelming urge to try and find him. And in finding him, I found her.
I fell asleep with her in my arms, and when I woke, listening to her soft breaths beside me, I knew I wouldn’t leave, not like last time when I left the dice behind. I wanted her to wake up and find me lying next to her. It’d be another first for both of us.
Things were changing in this game we were playing.
The rules and rewards were morphing into something else.
Everything was becoming more intense, my mind immersing into everything Abigail, and I craved more.
She felt like home somehow. And for someone who’d never had a proper home, that was fucking huge for me.
Eventually, I felt her move in my arms and she gave a little sigh before saying, “You stayed.”
“I ran out of dice,” I joked, but what I wanted to say was, ‘I didn’t want to let you go. I never want to let you go.’
She reached up to touch her hair and groaned, “My hair is so matted.” And she started to run her fingers through it to try and unknot the tangles.
“I’m sorry,” I told her. “That might be my fault. I was stroking your hair while you slept.”
She stayed quiet for a moment, then said quietly, “Have you been stroking it every night? Because I usually wake up like this.” She was joking, and I knew if I said, ‘Yes. I let myself in and watch you sleep,’ she’d freak the fuck out, so I stayed quiet.
“I really need to brush my teeth and take a shower,” she added, still facing away from me, even though I had pulled her tightly into my arms.
“Sounds like a plan. I need a shower too.”
She chuckled, knowing exactly what I meant. The fun and games weren’t over yet.
I sat up, letting the covers fall off me, then climbed off the bed. She turned to watch me, her eyes scanning my body before she looked at me with a cheeky grin.
“Are you coming?” I asked, holding my hand out for her to take.
She sat up and something primal inside me wanted to growl and claim her as mine.
She climbed off the bed, and as she went to walk past me, I slapped her ass and told her, “I hope you weren’t expecting to be in work on time today.”
“I’m not going into work today. I have a few days off,” she replied, glancing over her shoulder and biting that goddamn lip, making me feral.
“Thank God for that. I can take my fucking time.”
Her shower stall was small but perfect for what I had planned.
She turned the water on, and I put my hand under the stream to check it was warm enough before we both stepped under it.
We let the water cascade over our bodies, and I started to kiss her, holding her face in my hands as I tasted what was mine.
She was delicious, warm, and every stroke of her tongue against mine made my cock hard and throb with need.
I reached down and put my hands behind her knees, picked her up and pressed her against the wet tiles as she wrapped her legs around me.
“What do you want?” I whispered in her ear as I trailed kisses from her lips to her cheek, then her neck.
“I want... your cock inside me,” she gasped. “I want to feel your piercings again.”
Her fingers dug into my shoulders as she tilted her head to give me better access to kiss her. The skin on her neck prickled into bumps as I ran my tongue in little circles. The way she reacted to me, to everything I did and said, was such a fucking turn on.
“Hold on tight, baby. I need to fuck you hard and fast this morning,” I told her, and I reached down, positioning my cock at her entrance, then slammed into her.
She cried out, throwing her head back as I fucked her against the tiles. Thrusting into her tight pussy as she rocked her hips against me and clung to me like she might drown if she didn’t.
Her legs wound around me tightly, her pussy gripped my cock, and I felt her fingernails pierce my skin, but I wanted more. So much more.
“Give it to me,” I growled. “Come on my cock and tell me whose pussy this is.”
Her head was resting on my shoulder as she moaned through every thrust. I gripped her ass as I slammed into her over and over. And then, as her walls clamped around my cock and started to spasm, contracting hard, she cried out, “Yours. It’s yours,” as her legs shook and her body shuddered.
“Mine,” I said, my teeth gritted as I came too, filling her tight little pussy with my cum. “Only mine.”
As I rocked my hips into her, milking every last drop of our orgasms, I realised I’d found something I never even knew I needed. I’d found something else to live for other than death, hurt and destruction.
I’d found her.
I had an obsessive personality. I’d been obsessed with Abigail Walters from the first moment I saw her. But what happened after that night turned into something far more powerful than obsession.
She was all I thought about.
She was all I cared about.
Every moment of the day was spent watching her from the apartment down the hall, studying her face and every smile, frown, every expression she made, and thinking of ways I could control it, change it and manipulate the world around her to make everything perfect for her.
It wasn’t an obsession, it was an unquestionable infatuation I couldn’t turn off.
A craving I could never sate. Her whole existence was now linked to mine, and I’d die without her.
I needed her like air, water, and food. The thought of anyone being near her, hurting her, made me want to rip the world apart with my bare hands.
I watched her in her apartment, and when she started to fret or looked worried, I sent her a text to ask how her day was or question how excited she was to play our next game.
Those small gestures seemed to mean a lot to her, judging from the look on her face every time she received them.
Maybe I was better at this than I thought, this being interacting with others on a normal, everyday level.
Over the next few weeks, I visited her too, choosing my moments carefully so I could show her that I was always there for her, especially at times when her vulnerability seemed more palpable.
My whole life revolved around her.
Fucking her was like a drug that kept me alive.
Holding her in my arms was medication that soothed my fucking soul.
I guarded her like a fucking dog, checking the CCTV around the building to make sure there were no suspicious dark figures or black Mercedes hanging around.
And as for Q, I didn’t give a shit anymore.
The guy probably wasn’t even a real person.
Tolley probably made it up to fuck with me. I didn’t have time for anything else.
Everything was her.
I stared at the screen, watching her flick through the channels on her TV. I was thankful she wasn’t going out. It made watching her so much easier, but it wasn’t right. She was locking herself away. If she were going to be locked away, I’d prefer it to be with me on my terms.
So, I sent her a text.
Me
Are you ready to take the games to the next level?
She wouldn’t have a choice, but it was nice to let her think she did.
Abigail
What did you have in mind?
She replied, and I smirked at my phone as images of what was going to happen tonight filtered through my brain.
Me
I want you to come out with me tonight. I have a task for you.
On the monitor, I saw her open the message, read it, and her face dropped.
Abigail
Can’t we do it here? I’m not in the mood to go out.
Not in the mood, or wouldn’t?
I got that she might be worried about the consequences of what’d happened that night in the cottage. I could understand her being wary because of the fucker trying to break into her apartment. But I was going to be there. She knew not to be afraid when she was with me.