I’m not used to waiting this long. I pick at my nails, wondering if I’ve ruined everything. Wondering if I should try to find him. I wish there were a clock in here. Something. Anything to fill up the silence.

My eyes drift back to the only constant in the room. The camera that’s facing me.

The light isn’t on, but it feels like it’s taunting me that much more with it off. Like the cameras never mattered. Nothing did. It was going to happen regardless.

I slide off the bed, feeling restless and with an anxiety that won’t go away. I hate that camera. I hate the blinking red light. I swallow thickly as I walk toward it. My throat is tight as I remember how the monster’s breath felt against my neck like a sticky fog. How my body screamed in pain and the bed shook as he took something from me I could never have back. I stared at the red light through my tears. Watching it blinking and recording everything. Just watching it all happen to me.

And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it.

I stopped screaming, I stopped crying. I had nothing left but the fucking light to take me away.

Pathetic. I’m fucking pathetic. The faint memory flashes before my eyes.

A cry rips through me as my fist swings in the air, slamming against the cold metal of the camera.

Fuck you! Then it crashes to the floor and I scream as I reach down and grab it before cracking it against the unforgiving floor again.

I was never pathetic. My teeth grind together as his face stares back at me. The face of a monster. Nothing but coldness in his eyes.

I hate him. I hate what he did to me and how I can never change it.

I scream out as I pick up the stand and slam it over and over against the broken camera. Small pieces of metal scatter as I recklessly destroy each and every piece I can. My muscles scream and the adrenaline pumps faster and faster, but I’ve never felt so alive. So liberated.

Jay’s father did something to me; he changed me forever. But I won’t let him define me. That will never define who I am.

My shoulders rise and fall with each heavy breath. No more fucking camera. No more of this. I won’t do it anymore. I’m done with this shit.

I swallow my nervousness, my hands still trembling as I loosen my grip and let the leg fall to the ground. My body shakes as I look around, but instead of feeling crazed, instead of feeling scared by what I’ve done, I feel nothing but triumphant.

A creak to my right makes my body jolt.

I turn toward the door as it opens, breathing heavily, feeling invisible and empowered.

“Little bird,” Jay tsks, his boots smacking on the cement floor as he makes his way to me. “That wasn’t a very nice thing to do,” he says with a hint of condescension in his voice. But the corner of his lips curls up into a half smile.

I break his gaze to look at the shattered camera laying in pieces on the ground.

“I fucking hate it,” I mutter beneath my breath.

“So you broke it?” he asks me, his voice tinged with surprise. My palms turn sweaty as I look into his eyes, hoping to find approval. He stops in front of me, his broad shoulders and chest at my eye level and dominating me with his presence alone. There’s a power about Jay that’s undeniable, a confidence and demeanor that won’t be denied.

“Yes,” I answer him and wait for his reply. Clinging to the hope that he’ll understand. It’s not just a camera. It’s something more. A pain I can’t describe. He nods his head once and then looks past me at the pile of broken pieces on the floor.

“It’s funny that you break what you hate… yet I seem to be the opposite?” Jay speaks in a riddle, not quite to me, maybe more to himself.

“I didn’t mean to,” I tell him quickly. “I’m just…,”

“Angry,” Jay answers for me.

“Yes,” I answer him in a whisper. He takes a step closer to me, filling in the space between us with heat. His large hands wrap around my hips and I slowly move my hands up to his lower back. Both of us are testing boundaries. My heart beats quickly as I tilt my head up. His hands move down and to my backside. He squeezes my ass and pulls me into him, hard and with a force that makes me gasp.

“It’s easy to blame the anger,” he says, staring into my eyes. His voice is like a hiss, like a spoken sin. He lowers his lips so they’re close to mine, but he doesn’t kiss me. “But you and I both know it’s more than that. So much more.”

I can’t take the proximity, the intensity. I don’t ask for his permission. I don’t wait for him to make the move. I’m taking what I want.

I crash my lips against his and he’s quick to react, to deepen it. To lift me up and force my legs to wrap around his hips as he lays me on the bed. His tongue parts the seam of my lips, and I open for him instantly.

Take me. Have me. Do whatever you want with me. I’ve always been yours.

My breath quickens and my chest rises chaotically as he peels my clothes from me. His fingers slip across my skin with a tenderness that’s only thinly hiding the beast of a man Jay is.

His lips kiss and nip my skin, moving over every inch in a torturous fashion. My shoulders dig into the bed as my back arches and he swirls his tongue along my sensitive nipple. His hands, his lips, the roughness of his jeans brushing against my skin. It’s all too much.

“Jay,” I whimper his name. This is the only way I want his name to ever come from my lips again. My head is dizzy with desire and it takes a moment before the cool air makes me realize he’s on his knees, upright and waiting for my attention. My eyes move slowly, trailing along every hard line of the muscles on his chest and shoulders. He waits to speak until I meet his hungry gaze.

“You want me?” he asks as his deft fingers unbutton his jeans. My eyes are drawn to the movement and I slowly crawl to him as if moving too quickly will make him change his mind.

I nod my head once and whisper in a sultry voice I don’t recognize, “Yes, please.”

“Take it from me,” he tells me as he shoves his pants down. He strokes his cock once and my eyes are drawn to it. I lick my lips and show him my intentions but his hand comes out, pushing my shoulders away.

I look up at him, a wave of denial threatening to steal my happiness, but his thumb brushes against my lips and he says, “If I wanted these fuckable lips I’d tell you. Give me your pussy,” he commands.

I can barely breathe as I turn on the mattress, listening to it groan as I get on all fours and reach between my legs for his cock. As I do, he swipes his fingers through my slick folds and brushes my throbbing clit over and over. “You’re so fucking wet,” he groans and I half expect him to lose control, to take me like he did before. He says it like he’s surprised, like I wasn’t made for him.

“Please,” I whimper and lower my head to the mattress. My fingernails scrape along the sheet. I’m close already. I want him that badly.

The only movement he makes is to gently stroke my ass. I peek back at him, willing him to take me as ruthlessly and savagely as he wants to.

“Show me how much you want me,” he says under his breath as he towers over me, looking down at me with a heat in his eyes I’m sure is mirrored in my own.

In this moment, the only thing that matters is showing him just how much I desire his touch. How much I crave his affection and acceptance. His love.

I want him more than I ever have. More than I’ve wanted anything else.

I want him more than I want my own life.