Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I slept until what had to be the middle of the night. My sleep patterns were all fucked up. Upon opening my eyes, I realized I’d passed out in Walsh’s room.
I rolled to my back, looking up at the plain white ceiling, closing my eyes, imagining my life differently. What if I somehow ended up marrying someone like Peter? He would have hurt me for years. He would have used me for sex and whatever else he deemed acceptable to provide for him. I had to become this person, no, I had let myself become this person and needed to take accountability for my choices and consequences.
I sighed. Since Ms. Luchesse wasn’t around and the guards were outside the house at this hour, I would snoop around the main house.
I slid out of bed and walked the hall and decided to peep into the first door on the right. The only thing in the room was an exercise bike. I shrugged, almost weirded out by the normalcy of the room before I headed out. I passed the stairs and was almost at the end of the hall when something caught my eye. A room to the right had a small glow coming from the crack at the bottom of the door.
There was a hand scanner at the door, so this had to be an office. He had one downstairs that was open to anyone, and I went in there yesterday when I got curious but had found nothing. This was the first time I’d snooped upstairs, so I’d never seen this.
I raised my hand to the scanner, fully aware it probably wouldn't respond to my touch. The security measure must be coded exclusively for Walsh, likely concealing confidential family matters. While he had mentioned being part of the Mafia, the intricacies of what that entailed were beyond my grasp. Nevertheless, my curiosity compelled me to try.
To my surprise, the door opened. It shouldn't have, given the presumed exclusivity. Pushing it ajar, I found an office nearly identical to the one downstairs, adorned with warm wooden furnishings, towering bookshelves lining the walls, a sizable desk, and a multitude of screens scattered across its surface and floor.
Approaching the screens cautiously, I acknowledged that Walsh must have anticipated my attempt to access the room. The video surveillance on the first screen covered the front of the house, followed by additional angles capturing the outside of the little barn and various areas inside the main residence, including his bedroom. Irritated but curious, I moved on to the next set of computers, my trembling hands revealing my anxiety.
The screens displayed footage from outside the gates, unfamiliar streets, and even inside my little apartment over the barn, featuring an unsettling view of the bathroom. "Fucking gross," I muttered. However, it was the final set of computers that left me breathless. Cameras were strategically placed in and around the guest house I had in Isles.
"Holy shit," I gasped, confirming that Walsh had been watching me all these years, explaining how he had known about my every move.
When Walsh and I first crossed paths, he possessed an eerie ability to pinpoint my location on campus with uncanny accuracy. It seemed like mere coincidence, but it was through stalking that he knew my routine, from teaching yoga classes in the morning to unwinding at the bar in the evening. As I looked at the small camera outside the Isles house, I felt a pang of loss, realizing I might never return to my home of nearly seven years. Oddly, instead of feeling outraged by his invasive surveillance, I felt a sense of calm. He wanted me to see all this, knowing it would provide me with a sense of security rather than fill me with red flags and fear.
Growing up with parents who never cared about my whereabouts or well-being, Walsh's meticulous attention felt like a twisted form of caring. His awareness of my movements and routines, even my presence in the little cabin in Isles, provided an odd comfort. In a world where indifference was my constant companion, Walsh's surveillance filled a void I hadn't realized existed. The cameras, though invasive, felt like silent guardians.
As I navigated through the screens showing different angles of my life, I couldn't shake the feeling that Walsh had woven a web around me. Yet, the bizarre warmth of being seen and acknowledged lingered. It was a complex dance between invasion of privacy and a strange sense of security, leaving me with conflicting emotions.
I paused, turning toward the door, deciding that I’d seen enough for the night. After I crept out of the room, holding the door so it didn’t make a noise as it shut, I headed back to his bedroom, curious if I’d find anything else in there.
The fear of unsettling Walsh, the man who meticulously controlled every aspect of his life, was terrifying. The power dynamic had shifted, and the consequences lingered. Walsh's need for control clashed with the vulnerability he showed when we fucked.
It wasn't just about the cameras or the surveillance or even marrying me when I was wasted; it was about navigating the intricate dance of control, trust, and vulnerability. We always seemed to be at war, but I realized we just wanted to be loved for our true selves. We had built walls for protection, but they had only hurt us. There was no war between us; we were on the same side, but neither of us knew it.
Unable to sleep, I gazed out the window at the pool. A midnight swim seemed like a good distraction. I considered the distance between the house and the barn, not wanting to venture into the dark woods. Calling a security guard felt like unnecessary work.
"You have to have something useful in here," I murmured, standing in the closet. I stumbled through the rows and rows of black shirts, realizing I needed to expand this man’s wardrobe. He needed a little color.
As I picked through his closet, looking for something to wear down to the pool, I saw a familiar box.
"Oh my God!" I lunged toward it, ripping the cardboard off the top. There were my sex toys, bikinis, and lingerie. "You motherfucker."
As I rummaged through the box, I heard a faint click. It was something that, during the day, the sounds of the forest would have muted, but in the silence of the dark, lost in the shadows, I heard loudly.
"Of course," I whispered. As I pulled the box from the closet and set it in the center of the room, it dawned on me he was probably alerted the moment I used my palm to enter the office. He knew I saw the cameras and knew he was watching me.
"You want a show?" I asked, knowing damn well where he hid the fucking video feeds in the room. "A show I’ll give you."
This time, though, I didn't want to punish him. No, I wanted him to remember why he’d brought me here. I wanted him to remember the fierceness in my spirit, not the melancholy I’d been surrounded by the last few days. I didn’t want him to see me cry anymore.
I straightened my shoulders before sliding out of the leggings I’d worn to bed. My black lace boy shorts were mostly covered by the oversized T-shirt I was wearing, but the moment I bent over to rifle through the box, my ass would be on display.
I pulled out a variety of colorful vibrators, each serving a distinct purpose, but I was looking for one particular gift. I’d bought it on a whim one night, draining whatever money I’d made that month from assisting with a class. I was desperate to get off, and nothing seemed to be working. I dug deeper in the box trying to find what I was looking for when finally, I found it at the very bottom—my saddle.
It was all black and the size of a horse saddle. A few buttons on the back controlled the vibration type, the speed, and the intensity. On the top, it looked like a saddle would without the stirrups, and in the center was the ability to add extra toys. I loved the way it felt to grind on it. I loved the power I had over the toy. It was probably the best investment I’d made.
And when I needed to get off? It knew exactly what to do.
I fastened one of the dildo attachments with the extra clit-stimulator, then ripped off my shirt, exposing my hard breasts.
"Since you aren't home to show me, Daddy, then I guess I’ll have to do it myself," I said, imagining the way Walsh looked as he stalked toward me. The way he always seemed to lurk through the shadows as if he was dancing with them.
The way he appeared to be death incarnate and yet somehow the most beautiful human I’d ever seen in my life. I closed my eyes to picture the tattoos on his skin, the way the ink swirled as if they were coming to life.
I brought the saddle over to the window. There was just something about wondering if the guards outside could walk by and see me riding my toy while performing for my… husband …who was very much watching me from wherever he was on this godforsaken planet.
I placed it on the floor and straddled it, falling to my knees. My fingers dipped into my soaking wet pussy, gathering my arousal, then I brought them to my mouth and licked them clean.
"It’s all for you," I cried. Because it was. I’d resigned myself to the fact that my entire life was here for him. I wanted him to come back. I wanted us to be broken together and fucking heal together. We were two very scared people, and I needed to figure out a way to get him back here. I needed to have a conversation with him and knew he’d scoff at my begging, but maybe if I made it tantalizing enough, he’d have to come home. He’d want a piece of this person.
I peeled off my underwear then I dropped down onto the saddle, reaching behind me to turn on the vibration button. It was already set to how I preferred it to rock back and forth. Then I turned up the intensity, and the machine roaring to life sent a thrill down my spine.
I scooted forward to sit atop the dildo, slowly letting it fill me. A part of me was laden with disappointment because while this used to do the trick months ago, there was no way it would ever compare to Walsh’s cock.
As I held onto the side of the saddle, the vibration surrounded me. I moaned. It was annoying to stabilize with my knees, but I carefully slid up and down, my wetness soaking the seat.
"Fuck." I ground atop the saddle, riding my way through to my orgasm. The tip of the dildo sent careful vibrations to my clit, warming my entire body with pleasure. I slowly bounced atop the shaking saddle. I missed my little toy and the sexual liberation it gave me.
As I looked outside, I’d hoped I could see a shadowed figure, but no one was there, not even the guard who usually did his rounds in the back of the house. That was odd, but I chalked it up to me getting the times all mixed up and threw my head back.
I turned up the intensity to the highest it could go and let the vibrations take me away.
"Walsh," I cried out his name, feeling the orgasm right there. I imagined the way his eyes would roll backward, the intensity pulsating between us through the room. God, I imagined the way his cock filled me up, bringing me to the brink of explosion.
Then my orgasm rocked through my body. It shredded through every single sensitive part, and when it was finally over, the vibrations of the saddle sent quivers through those sensitive parts. I quickly threw my leg over the machine before it wrecked my core, then shut it off.
I collapsed onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling before a smile curled the corners of my lips. If that didn’t get his attention, then I didn't know what would.
I went to the bathroom to clean off my toys and myself, and once I was done, I jumped atop his bed and pulled out my phone next to me.
There were a string messages from an unknown number.
Unknown Number:
I had to send all the guards away because of your performance.
Unknown Number:
Those noises….
Unknown Number:
You win. Fine. Fuck. What do you need?