He’s been fighting the pull between us. It’s been obvious from the day we met. I didn’t know how Ezra had been watching me, I’d searched this room from top to bottom for cameras and found none, but I knew he had found a way to keep an eye on me. Like a sixth sense, all the signs pointed to my guardian angel being a six-foot-three enforcer who everyone here fears. Although I couldn’t see him, I could feel his heated gaze trained on me as though he was casually sitting in the chair by the window as I went about my business, never truly feeling alone in my empty room.
Books I’ve mentioned to Suzy on our nightly calls that I’m interested in reading would turn up on my bookshelf, my door being locked in the mornings when I could swear I’d forgotten to lock it before getting into bed, the thoughtfulness of his gift when I don’t ever show anyone my hand—it was all too perfect to be a coincidence. The thought should of scared me, but it didn’t; the idea of Ezra watching me only proved to turn me on more.
I want him to see me. I’m enjoying this little game of cat and mouse.
The naive Cara persona kept me safe outside of these walls; it let me exist in a world where the highest bidder wanted his woman obedient. I’d had a client once who could only get off with me almost doll-like. He was an odd guy, but gentle in his ways. Then there were men who were not so gentle, the ones I would learn to alter my dosage for, so that I could drift away a little, to numb myself—not enough so they thought I was reneging on the deal Doc had bartered with them, but enough that the pain they inflicted felt distant so I could get through their harsh touches and brutal beatings without so much of the mental torture takeaway.
I don’t want to miss a moment with Ezra, but I know he’s keeping his distance for a reason, and if I’ve read him as well as I think I have, he will be unable to resist the urge to explore his feelings with me like this. My thoughts travel back to Raven’s suggestion that Ezra might have a kink, and while I’d probably be up for anything he asked of me—the comatose option sounds more fun than the horse one. I like the idea of him sneaking into my room in the dead of night to play with me as I sleep.
EZRA
Looking down on her now, without the two-way mirror, I wish I had done it sooner. Tucking a curl of her hair behind her ear, I run my thumb over her full parted lips, a choppy contented exhale hitting me; a shudder snakes its way up my spine as warmth unfurls in my chest.
I’ve been teasing myself all this time.
DIARY ENTRY -
All I’ve tried to do all these years is flit between lives, moving under Doc’s command to a new place, with a new name, and a new wave of clientele. Always living with a new lie in exchange for another slice of my soul. So why is it that here, amongst all this madness, I feel like I finally have a chance to be myself? I can’t explain it; I’d be signing myself onto a ward if I tried. Ezra Wolfe is an enigma, one I probably should resist the urge to solve; nothing good can come from what my body is telling me it wants. Hunted, captured, owned—when I think of this man, those are the words that fill my head. I’m trying to ignore the pull, but it’s so hard.
I want him to hunt me, to capture me, to own me—and I think he might want that too.
Pulling the diary up to my nose, I inhale the sweet scent of her floral perfume, tracing her written words as though the sensation of the twisted ink will embed the words deep beneath my skin for safe keeping. Hunting her, capturing her, owning her—she’s right on all fronts—I won’t stop until I make her mine, and I will take down anyone who tries to stand in my way.
A little closer won’t hurt.
I know I should leave. Psychopath or not, I still recognise the lines between right and wrong. Blurred as they may be, they are still there. My problem has never been knowing the difference—it’s that morality, or the risk of losing what little remains of it, has never been enough to stop me. If a life stands between me and what I want, I won’t hesitate to take it. If a body partneeds severing for me to get the information I need, I’ll carve it up as easily as a sane person would a Christmas ham. The sight of blood, the screams of a repenting man begging for his life, they don’t disturb me; they fascinate me. Stripping away their humanity until all that’s left are the bare bones of their sins. We all have secrets, and I want to climb inside Red’s head and discover hers.
‘Taste her, you know you want to,’that growly voice in my head goads, and before I can second guess all the reasons why I shouldn’t do it, I realise my hands are already slowly shifting the hem of her nightdress up her thighs.
I have never dared to get this close to Cara during the day, my appraisal of her left to lingering glances and wordless exchanges. The build-up to finally getting to touch her, to feel the velvety softness of her skin, it’s too much and not enough all at once.
You won’t hurt her.
The thought doesn’t soothe me; I am a man who breaks things, a soulless animal that does deplorable things with these hands.
Would I break her? Could I live with myself if I did?
I rest back on my haunches on the end of her bed, parting her thighs and silently damning the fact she has underwear on.
Pulling my coin from my pocket, I flip it up into the air, palming it tightly when it makes its descent. The broken-winged skull gleams up at me in the moonlight bathing the dark room with a soft blue hue. I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve fate’s favour, but I’m not about to question it. My twisted guardian angel wants to see me play; who am I to disappoint?
“One taste couldn’t hurt,” I whisper out loud, pocketing the coin and dotting featherlight kisses up the sensitive skin at the hollow of her hips. I knew exactly what I was going to do when I came in here tonight, and she’s played her part beautifully.
Manhandling Cara how I want to will have to wait—for now. She reacts to my touch, squirming but not fully with it as I continue to kiss a path down to her thigh. Pulling aside her white cotton underwear, I run my tongue through her folds, lightly sucking her clit between my lips. Gazing up at her from where I’m crouched, her arousal glistening on my lips, I watch as the softest smile tips up the edges of her mouth as her eyelashes flutter against her cheekbones. I know I’m done for as my tongue darts out to lap at her essence, and I groan at her sweet taste.
I’m officially fucked; I was crazy to think one taste of her would ever be enough. Wrapping my arms around her thighs, I dive back in, devouring her with punishing strokes of my tongue, a part of me wishing she would wake up fully, alert, to find me between her legs worshipping her—sucking on her clit with more pressure when I see her fists clench in the leather gloves I made especially with her in mind. The creaking whine of her metal appendages is a staccato twang adding a musicality to the moment. She tries so hard to hide that part of herself—all I see is that someone tried to break her, and she prevailed.
Raking my fingers far too gently against her hips, I hold her in place. I’ve done my research; right about now, Cara’s body is so lust drunk, every sense heightened as the overwhelming rush of endorphins flush her sensitive skin, but the pills block her ability to fully process it all. It wouldn’t take much to have her spiralling over the edge if all she had ingested was the one pill. If my little minx hadn’t tried to trick me, she’d likely be screaming my name to the heavens with my cock buried to the hilt inside her right now. The first of many orgasms I would happily have given her. I may be certified criminally insane with the paperwork and scars to prove it, but I’m still a gentleman where it matters, and you always make a lady come first. Neither of us will be getting exactly what we need tonight though; Cara has agreater lesson to learn. My girl is about to discover the power of edging with a side order of punishment.
She’ll get the release she needs…eventually.
Arranging her legs over my shoulders I raise her hips, offering me a better angle to feast on her. She thought she had the upper hand here; she trusted me to be predictable when I’m anything but. She’s everything I never knew I needed – and everything I know I don’t deserve. Deciding now isn’t the time to argue with myself on all the reasons why she is too good for me, with my cock pressing hard against my trousers, I bring her to the brink once again—letting her feel the sharp decline of the cliff’s edge she’s teetering on, her release right there for the taking - before retreating again. I pull back, admiring the lazy rock of her hips as she chases the sensation of my mouth. Her pretty pussy glistening. I lick my lips, savouring the taste of her, the barely audible frustrated whine out of her mouth making me grin.
CARA
The groan isn’t strong enough to meet my lips as my heart works overtime in my chest. My brain fizzles and cracks, a sliver of panic lighting up every available synapse that isn’t staving off sleep. I’m too wired and yet too close to the darkness, bouncing between the two like a yo-yo. I shouldn’t be this out of it.
Every flick of his tongue through my slit has heat blooming in my cheeks, my chest heavy with the trapped groans of pleasure my body is holding on to. I want to scream from the rooftops, his name tucked away behind my lips, my voice non-existent.
