My old bedroom looked exactly the same.
There were fresh flowers ready for my arrival, in big vases around the quarters. My designer clothes were in the closet like they’d never been removed. The diamonds and jewelry were still in the vault. All of my makeup and hair supplies were on the bathroom counter, pristine and undisturbed.
It felt so strange to stand there.
It was as if nothing had changed.
But also, everything had changed.
“Will you take your lunch in the garden room?” He set the bag on a shelf in the closet before he reemerged, his arms behind his back like he was dressed in his formal attire.
“Sure.”
He gave a slight bow then made to depart.
“Is Fender in his office?”
He stilled just before he crossed the threshold into the hallway. “Yes. But you’re unwelcome.”
I’d expected that, but it stung anyway. “Will he join me for lunch—”
“No.”
“Then when will I see him?”
He turned back around and gave me a cold look. “Whenever he feels like it, Melanie.”
I didn’t see Fender for a week.
Gilbert left my birth control on the nightstand like he expected me to resume the contraceptive, and I was taken to a doctor’s office to be tested for my reproductive health—even though I hadn’t been with anyone.
It was springtime, so I spent more time outside. The garden bloomed with colorful flowers, and I’d sit there for hours and watch the bees fly from one petal to the next. Whenever the sun was directly on my skin, I felt like a cat lounging in its rays.
When I took my walks, I passed the guest quarters.
If my sister hadn’t run, she’d be there right now.
She’d be safe. Taken care of. Maybe even happy…
But that was gone now.
I was supposed to convince Fender to release my sister, but I wasn’t sure if that was even a possibility. I couldn’t ask, because if I did, he would grow suspicious. I had to earn back his trust, but I wasn’t sure if that would ever happen either. His guard was up higher than it used to be. He would never lower it, and it was too high for me to climb.
He wouldn’t kill Melanie, so I had all the time in the world to make this happen.
It was warm outside now, so no reason to have a fire.
But I still asked Gilbert to make them because there was something comforting about it. It took me to a different time. A time when Fender would look at me like I was his one and only, when he would keep me warm with his touch, when he would give himself to me completely. It took me back in time to when life was better…in some ways.
I sat in the living room in my bedroom and stared at the fire. My old translation textbook was there, along with the notebook Gilbert had scribbled in. A pen lay there, shining in the light of the flames. The TV wasn’t on because I wasn’t going to bother trying to learn French at this hour. It was late, time for bed, but I had no reason to get up in the morning, so there was no point.
My bedroom door opened.
I heard it, the sound immediately flooding my memory because I’d heard it so many times in the past.
It shut again.
My heart pounded. My ears throbbed with blood. Bumps formed on my arms even though I was warm. My gaze remained on the fire as I listened to his bare feet thud against the hardwood, becoming muffled once he hit the rug, approaching slowly.
I breathed deeper, afraid.
His footsteps stopped.
I knew he was right behind me. Standing over me. Lurking.
His hands moved to the back of the couch, and he gripped the frame behind the cushion, his arms slightly in my periphery. His energy surrounded me like a cloud of humility, electrifying all the particles in the air so they burned my lungs every time I took a breath. He leaned down, his face coming closer to my ear. “Get on the bed.” His hands disappeared. The energy evaporated. His footsteps announced his departure.
This was different.
He was different.
I could feel it.
I left the couch and looked at him for the first time, standing near the bed in his sweatpants and nothing else, his gaze burning into me like it possessed the heat of the sun. He watched me approach the bed, watched me strip down to nothing. His eyes combed over my naked body, but his expression still didn’t change.
I crawled onto the bed and laid my head on the pillow.
He dropped his bottoms, revealing that rock-hard cock that was anxious for me. His hard body was built bigger than it used to be, an increase in mass but a tightness in inches. The veins bulged more than they did before. He moved to the bed, one knee dipping the mattress and then the other knee doing the same.
My body tightened as he came close, my sex glistening, my breaths of fear turning into breaths of arousal. I hadn’t seen him in the flesh since our conversation outside his home, and now that he was mine again, my fingers were anxious to grip those muscles, my thighs were anxious to squeeze his hips. I wanted his passionate kisses. I wanted him to whisper beautiful things to me in French as he claimed me as his. I’d missed this, and I hadn’t felt that quite as strongly as I did now.
On his knees, he looked down at me, but he didn’t separate my thighs with his knees. His hands gripped my hips, and then he quickly flipped me over. His fingers fisted my hair and pressed my face hard into the pillow as he lifted my ass into the air. Then he gripped both of my wrists and held them together at the small of my back, like I was a prisoner. His dick slid through my tight opening then slammed in with a hard thrust.
I shifted forward and let out a moan, my hands automatically wanting to break free, but were unable to move. It was a shock to feel that size deep inside me, that thick and throbbing rod of flesh.
His hands tightened on my body like reins to his horse, and he slammed into me hard, smacking my headboard against the wall, giving quiet moans as he pounded into me like I was a whore.
I imagined his face above mine, kissing me as he rocked into me, brushing his nose against mine as he looked into my eyes and slid all the way inside before he pulled out again. I imagined it slow, with our quiet breaths floating to the high ceiling and echoing back to us.
This was carnal.
Vicious.
Animalistic.
It wasn’t what I wanted—but I came anyway.
When he was finished, he immediately released his hold then moved away.
I lay there, a crick in my neck from the way my face had been thrust into the pillow. It hadn’t bothered me in the moment, but now there was a definite ache. I heard him get off the bed and grab his clothes.
I lifted myself and looked at him, naked and covered in his sweat, his come dripping out of me.
Without giving me a glance, he pulled on his clothes and left.
He took me once, got off, and then just left.
Fender and I hadn’t spoken once since I’d come here. I’d expected pillow talk after sex, but he got what he wanted then departed like there was no reason to stay. His office door was closed, and he didn’t join me for lunch.
He only wanted me for one thing.
He came again the next night.
After his full week of ignoring me, I hadn’t expected to see him again for a while.
I sat up in bed with a book in my hand, and the second the door opened, my eyes flicked up to watch him enter.