Chapter Seven #2
I tried to drop my legs, but he lowered one arm from my back to hold my thigh and keep it in place. Carrying me into the bedroom, he set me on the bed before going back into the sitting room. He returned a moment later, leaving the scooter within reach and tossing the blanket on the bed.
And then he left, never saying a single word the whole time.
Definitely drunk.
Being drunk explained his weirdness. It didn’t, however, explain my body’s reaction to him.
To his body. To his touch. My heart still raced in my chest, and my legs shifted restlessly, wanting to ease an ache I shouldn’t have felt.
I could’ve blamed it on my loneliness or that I was far too tired to use my brain. But it was more than that.
It was the feelings he evoked. The pull. His tender touch.
It was just Maximo.
And that was proof I’d lost my mind.
Life held enough disappointments, I wasn’t big on setting myself up for more by building up fantasies in my head.
And I wasn’t Belle going all Stockholm Syndrome for a beast.
Because, sure, Maximo—with his tattoos, pelvic muscles, and broodingly dark eyes—was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen in my life, but that didn’t matter. Appearances weren’t everything. He was a bad man.
Which is what I kept telling myself, over and over as the tension in my belly tightened like a coiled spring. I ignored it and tried to sleep but kept tossing and turning like I was back in my tiny twin bed with uncomfortable threadbare sheets. My mind fought my body.
And my body won.
Kicking the blanket off, my hand went down my pants to cup myself between my legs. I blanked my thoughts as I touched my clit with hurried, practiced circles, but it didn’t work like it usually did.
I tried cupping my breast, but even needy and on the edge of the cliff, it wasn’t enough to make me dive.
Past the point of no return, desperation kicked in and I let the fantasy I’d been fighting take over.
I imagined Maximo in bed with me. Guiding my touches before replacing my hand with his tattooed one.
I pictured the perfection that was his tall, muscular body as I ran my fingers along the deep vee I’d seen above the waistband of his joggers.
His joggers.
They look exactly like the ones I wore a few days ago.
I’m wearing his clothes.
I’m touching myself while wearing his clothes.
Something about that did it for me in a big way. I came hard, hoping I wasn’t making any noise but too lost to truly care. My body shuddered as I rubbed myself through one orgasm and into a second, my fantasy blooming as I imagined his body covering mine.
I could’ve gone for three, but with the edge taken off, shame replaced horniness.
I just got off thinking about Maximo.
That was so hot.
I mean, stupid. That was so stupid.
Getting out of bed, I used the bathroom and cleaned up, avoiding my reflection in the mirror.
I’m a pervert.
A happy and satisfied pervert.
Maximo
Panting, my lip curled in disgust.
I’m a sick fuck.
After my shower, I’d returned to my office to drink away my restless energy. The whiskey had sat mostly untouched, and I’d watched Juliet instead. Thank fuck I had, because after she’d fallen off the couch, I had no doubt she’d have tried to walk and hurt herself worse.
After carrying her to bed, I’d turned on the camera in her bedroom for the first time.
I could’ve said I’d been making sure she settled okay, but I didn’t lie, even to myself.
I’d wanted to climb into that damn bed with her so I could count every last sexy freckle on her body.
Since that wasn’t an option, I’d settled for watching.
When she’d tossed and turned, I’d been about to offer her food, assuming hunger was keeping her awake. I sure as shit hadn’t expected to see her hand slide down her pants— my pants. My dick had gone rock hard as I’d watched her touch herself.
Not once—not even for one damn second—had I thought about turning off the camera.
I’d been too busy holding my waistband down with one hand so I could stroke myself with the other.
Too busy fantasizing she was thinking of me the same way I thought of her.
Too busy giving in to the sick need that seemed to grow with each passing day.
Too busy coming harder than I ever had.
Grabbing a handful of tissues, I wiped the come from my stomach and chest and tossed them out. Then I grabbed my whiskey and drained the glass before pouring another.
I might not have felt guilt during, but I sure as hell felt it after.
I kept the camera going when she went to the bathroom. Once she was back in bed, I turned it off and picked up my cell, bringing up my texts with Ash.
Me: Disconnect the bedroom camera tomorrow.
I switched to my ones with Freddy.
Me: Regular menu for J tomorrow.
I thought for a moment before adding one more order.
Me: And a large mug of your good coffee.
I’ll talk to Vera in the morning since she doesn’t check her phone.
Putting my cell down, I knocked back whiskey until I was too drunk to do something stupid.
Or stupid er .
Juliet
I woke slowly, feeling rested and not nearly as sore as I’d been.
What time is it?
The men had been getting me up early every day, but I had the distinct feeling it was late.
After taking off my ankle brace, I stretched my foot. A jolt of pain still shot up my calf, so I played it safe and used the scooter to get to the bathroom. By the time I showered and got back to the room, there was a new outfit waiting on my bed.
Black leggings, a gray, slouchy tee, and undies with a matching bralette that were different than the basic cotton ones I’d been given.
Is this just another layer of cruelty meant to build my hopes before shattering them?
I hurried and dressed—though my cheeks heated as I realized how much I missed his joggers. When I scootered into the sitting room, breakfast was already sitting on the table with two domes on the tray. But that wasn’t the most exciting part.
Ms. Vera was.
“You’re back.” I grinned, happiness flowing through me.
“Hi, pretty girl,” she greeted. “Sit.”
I did it immediately, not wanting to give her any reason to leave. She handed me water and my antibiotics before inspecting my scrapes. They were all healed or scabbed over, so there was no need for ointment.
Once she was done looking me over, she moved toward the door. I opened my mouth, ready to beg her to stay, but she just grabbed her cleaning supplies from a carrier.
“Eat,” she ordered as she started dusting. Usually it was a pointless chore, but since she hadn’t been coming, there was actually a little buildup. Not much, but something.
Doing as she said, I checked out the two domed tray. Lifting one revealed eggs Benedict on an English muffin with a side of delicious looking home fries.
No sage.
No rosemary.
No oregano.
I was almost nervous to life the other dome, like there’d be a note announcing the food was fake or poisoned. But when I tentatively peaked under, I saw a large bowl of fresh fruit salad and coffee.
A big coffee.
The delicious aroma flowed free with the heavy barrier out of the way.
I looked up and grinned at Ms. Vera. “This looks amazing.”
“Don’t just drink that coffee, you need to eat. You’re far too skinny.” Returning to get something out of her carrier, she gave me a small smile as she tossed my iPad onto the couch. “Why don’t you read?”
My heart surged at seeing my shiny precious again. As excited as I was to have it back, being able to have a conversation was even better.
“How are you?” I asked.
While she cleaned, Ms. Vera talked about errands and a good book she was reading. I happily listened and dug into the food, eating almost the entire plate. Not even a single drop of coffee went to waste. I savored it as I ate and then sat back, holding the mug under my nose.
Ms. Vera came from the bedroom and picked up my mostly empty tray. When she was almost to the door, she tossed over her shoulder, “Relax. Read. Maybe even watch some TV.”
TV?
Before I could speak, she was gone.
I already got Ms. Vera, my iPad, delicious food, and even better coffee. Could I possibly be lucky enough to have TV back, too?
Holding my breath, I hit the power button on the remote. When the TV turned on, it whooshed out in a small, “Yay.”
Not only did I have TV, I had all the stations again.
I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to watch TV or read, so I decided to do both. Picking a movie I didn’t have to pay close attention to, I opened iBooks before nearly dropped my precious.
I can’t believe it.
Rather than dull mysteries and stodgy nonfiction, there were hundreds of choices downloaded.
Hundreds.
Dystopian Young Adult. Biographies. Ones that looked like school textbooks. Serial killers, romances, paranormal, fantasy, and everything in between.
That time, my yay wasn’t soft. It was loud. As was my shouted, “Thank you!”
I wasn’t sure if anyone could hear me, but I said it anyway.
And then I curled up on the couch with the good mug of coffee and a good book.