Chapter 6 #2
A quick scan of the murky room has me zeroing in on the woman tucked in bed and ripe for the picking.
I push the door open wider and step inside, closing the door with a soft click behind me.
Pink. Her bedding is still pink and girly despite the evolution of her style from frilly and light to dark and heavy.
She may have returned home dressed like a little Gothic queen, but it’s nice to know she still surrounds herself with color.
Perfectly arranged fresh pink flowers sit in a crystal vase beside her computer on the antique white desk under the window.
Sheer white drapes, trimmed with delicate lace, are drawn to block out the half-moon.
The string of lights, intertwined with a white-and-pink flower chain, wound around the wrought iron headboard, casting a soft glow over Alice.
It gives the illusion that she’s otherworldly, a slumbering goddess.
Everything here is the same as when I was last in here—everything except her.
I can almost see her, the girl she was, superimposed over the sad stranger sleeping peacefully in a bed that doesn’t belong to her.
Like Goldilocks waiting to be discovered by the three bears.
Browsing the creatures brought to life in black charcoal on canvases lined up along one wall, I realize I’m not the only monster here. Alice has surrounded herself with an army of them.
One, however, stands out among the rest: her current work-in-progress. A wicked cat with a sinister grin. For sure, it’s her best work yet, silently condemning me for creeping around in this hallowed space, ready to pounce to protect its creator.
When I shift my gaze back to the tiny woman buried under that delicate pink blanket, all I can see is the top of her head.
Rather, the silvery waves spilling across a white pillowcase.
She’s so damn small, taking up so little space on the queen-sized bed, tempting me to crawl under there to do wonderful and terrible things to her.
But I resist and instead probe deeper into Alice’s private sanctum, as if I have every right in the world to invade her private space.
I glide my palm along the top of the oak dresser.
Catch my malicious grin in the mirror hanging above it when I silently inch open a drawer and discover a treasure trove.
Smirk as I select a pair of plain black panties and press the delicate fabric to my nose.
I take a deep inhale and replace it exactly as I found it.
Smells disgustingly clean, like laundry detergent.
But I hit the jackpot when I spot a basket to my left, near the closet.
I stroll across the room and dig through her dirty garments.
Run my tongue along the edge of my incisor like a hungry predator as I tuck a pair of worn, red lace panties in the front pocket of my hoodie.
I don’t have a shred of guilt over my intention to desecrate her panties the second I get home. Hell, I’d do it right here, right now, but I’ll probably wake her midway through jerking off, but I doubt she’d appreciate finding me in her room with my dick in my hand.
There’d be no explaining my way out of that situation.
Not that there’s a chance in hell I could talk my way out of why I’m in her room, looming over her while she’s asleep—even without her catching me jacking it into her dirty panties.
Oh well, life isn’t worth living without taking a few risks.
Speaking of risks…
I trace a finger along the edge of the blanket.
Dare to inch the soft quilt lower. Just enough to better expose Alice’s delicate features to the diffused light so I can admire her.
Study the long, thick lashes that fan against ivory cheeks.
Plush lips are slightly ajar, her gentle breathing a hush in the quiet room.
I dare to brush an errant lock of hair off her face, relishing how the silken strands slide through my fingers.
It’s even riskier when I lean in close to inhale her.
Relish the clean aroma that clings to her smooth skin.
Listen to her deep and steady breathing.
When her eyelids twitch, as if they’re about to open, I freeze, waiting to be caught.
But she doesn’t wake up. She releases a soft sigh and hunkers deeper under the blanket.
“What are you dreaming about, Malice?” I whisper so quietly that my question barely breaks the silence.
I trace a finger across her bottom lip, remembering the press of her mouth against mine.
The delectable taste of her. The warmth of her pussy squeezing my cock, and when my dick kicks inside the constricting confines of my pants, I inwardly groan over the relentless pressure building up my shaft.
Alice Knightly may not have been my first, but after being inside her, I swore she’d be my last. I’ve never wavered in that oath.
Her grim and my crazy were made for each other.
She’s always been mine.
She will always be mine.
Alice is stubborn, but I’m determined. She may not have let me help her when she needed it the most, but I never left her. I was always here, ready, if she called. But she didn’t, and I had to stand by and watch as waves of guilt drowned her and sorrow stole her from us all.
I don’t do ‘helpless’ well, and knowing she was suffering alone fucking killed me. But she’s home now, and although she clawed her way out of that abyss, she left a piece of her soul down at the bottom.
Good thing I’ve never been afraid to jump into the darkness.
As I walk backward toward the door, I let my gaze linger on her exquisite face as I whisper, “Sleep well, Malice.”
Because she’s going to need all the rest she can get tonight.
Come tomorrow, I’m finally taking what rightfully belongs to me.
Her.