Chapter 6
HIM
I can practically hear my flower’s thoughts racing inside that beautiful head.
Her dark brown eyes are wide as she chews on her bottom lip in contemplation.
A part of me wants her to let me in, but the other likes playing this little game with her.
I want to keep her on the edge, keep her wanting and desperate for the man beneath the mask.
Making the decision for her, I type a follow-up text quickly.
ME:
No, Essence. It’s not time yet.
I hit send, and she immediately looks at her phone.
When she reads my text, she lets go of the doorknob and takes a step back.
I shake my head to let her know that that’s not what I want.
I crook a finger at her, and she steps forward again until her breasts are pressed against the glass of the backdoor window.
Even through her shirt and bra, I can barely make out the peaked nubs of her hardened nipples.
My mouth waters with the need to pluck them into my mouth and bite on them until they bleed and she’s begging me stop.
ESSENCE:
Who are you?
ME:
I’m yours, little flower. Every part of my soul belongs to you.
I press my gloved hand against the window. Her throat constricts as she swallows. She starts to respond, but then her head whips around in the opposite direction. Evan must be waking up.
She types quickly.
ESSENCE:
My boyfriend is yelling for me. I have to go.
When will I see you again?
I’m glad for the mask because I don’t want her to see just how happy that question has made me.
ME:
Tomorrow after work. I’ll be waiting for you.
Before she has a chance to reply, I turn and leave. As soon as I get to my truck parked down the street, I pull off the mask and flip to the hidden camera app on my phone. Evan is quite literally in bed screaming for Essence to make him something to eat before he has to go to work.
My free hand grips the steering wheel so tightly a knuckle pops. I curse and shake the pain away.
I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to let him live. I need to get rid of him before I go back to work next week.
For the next hour, I watch as Essence flutters around the kitchen to make Evan dinner.
Meanwhile, he takes his sweet time scrolling on his phone before he gets out of bed and starts getting ready for work.
Then he grabs his work bag and goes downstairs to eat, but not before yelling at Essence for slightly undercooking his pasta.
With each passing moment, my jaw clenches harder and harder the more I grit my teeth.
Why does she stay with him? Why does she continue to give him so many chances when he’s shown time and time again that he doesn’t give a damn about her?
He nearly fucking killed her, and she still gave him a chance.
I think that’s why I love her so much. She’s always willing to see the best in people no matter how awful they are. That’s how I know she’ll accept me and my dark cravings.
I don’t have that trait. You have one chance with me and you’re through. I won’t hesitate to cut someone out of my life.
Like with Ronnie Newsome…
My mind goes back to that night, that one moment that changed the entire course of my life, and I feel like I’m dying.
Fire burns in my veins, threatens to sear through my skin and devour me whole. Every time I think about what he did to my son, I want to scream and tear the world apart to get him back.
Hot tears burn my eyes and threaten to fall, but I refuse to let them. Instead, I channel my pain into something else.
Or, rather, someone else.
My crippling addiction. My Essence.
In the meantime, I sit back and watch my flower for the rest of the night.