I’m so goddamn tired. This is the last thing I want to talk about when I get home.
“Could you leave?” she blurts.
Did she just—
“I need a little time to think.” She holds herself and looks at the carpet.
I have to coach myself down.
This is Charlotte. She doesn’t know shit. She didn’t mean that. She’s confused. She isn’t Meghan or like other girls.
Don’t punish her.
I grit my teeth.
Okay. Fine.
I peel off my shirt and blow past her to the shower. I’ll eat dinner and pass out. Deal with her bullshit tomorrow.
Yeah, that’s the plan.
“Hey! Wait,” she persists, talking back like she has any right.
I spin and snatch herfuckingarm. My grip is steel on her dainty flesh.
“Charlotte. You’re pushing me.Stop.”
“I didn’t mean to,” she says too quickly. “It’s just—”
“You saw Meghan,” I interrupt. “And nowyou’re scared?”
She nods.
“That’s good.” My voice is ice cold. “Now you’ll think twice before asking me to leave. Or looking up things I told you not to.”
She stares, shame and fear flickering behind her eyes.
I step closer. The devil in me rubbing his palms together.
She stiffens as I brush a strand of hair off her cheek, slow, almost tender.
“Meghan wasn’t scared. She begged for it,” I murmur. “You think that video was bad?”
She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Just a tiny shake of her head.
I lean in, my voice low, hot against her ear. “Just imagine being in the same room. Close. Chained. Naked. Forced to watch while I wreck her like I used to. Would you cry, Charlotte? Or would you beg to take her place?”
She gasps, small and helpless.
But I feel it.
The shift.
When I leave the room, she finally shuts up.
After showering, she has dinner ready. She sits across from me, quiet and obedient.
I grin. Got her. My pet again.
