Chase

Her whispers are like a drug to me.

I can’t stop listening, can’t stop fucking zoning out completely as she grabs my leg with those sweet little hands.

Her lips are so close to mine I can almost taste them.

And I want to.

So fucking bad …

God, I haven’t seen or touched her in days, and now she comes out and does this? I’m consumed with the thought of taking her, and for a second, I’m almost tempted to do just that.

Grab her by her waist, tear off her clothes, rip down my zipper, and ram my cock into her dripping wet pussy.

But I know it’s all tricks. All the lies my mind spins to make me feel wanted. To make me feel good.

But I’m not good.

I’m far from it, and she knows it.

When her fingers graze my dick, I grasp her wrist and stop her from moving any closer.

She’s not doing this because she wants me.

She’s doing this because she wants out.

I’m being used. And I don’t like being used.

“Don’t,” I hiss, pushing her away.

She cocks her head, and her tongue dips out again to lick those sweet little lips that I just want to conquer. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

I narrow my eyes, unable to pull away even though I should.

Fuck.

It’s so goddamn wrong.

She’s my prisoner. I shouldn’t want her, yet I do, and now she knows.

When I bought her, I never thought I’d succumb to my desires so easily.

Maybe she’s found my weak spot. Or maybe I’m really looking for salvation, and she’s the only one who can give it to me.

No. I can’t allow it.

“No,” I reply, lying through my teeth.

But I have to make a stand. Have to stop this from happening before it’s too late.

“I don’t believe you,” she says, inching closer again.

I immediately get off the couch, not giving a shit that my dick is rock hard because of her.

I won’t let her find out.

When she touches the collar of my shirt, I grasp both her hands and force them down.

“Don’t play games with me,” I say. My voice is gruff, saying the words harsher than I want to, but it needs to be said. “You don’t want to mess with me.”

“I’m not,” she says. “I want this.”

“Don’t. Fucking. Lie.”

She doesn’t know how much I hate liars.

How hard it makes me.

And how badly it makes me want to kill.

“I know you want me. I’ve felt it,” she says, smirking as though she’s found my dirtiest secret.

She doesn’t even know the half of it.

I let go of her hand and walk away.

“Where are you going?” she asks.

I don’t reply. I can’t even fucking say a word right now without feeling the need to scream.

Instead, I storm into the bathroom and shut the door, my fist ramming the wall.

Fuck!

I almost fell for it.

Almost fell for her little game.

Almost allowed myself to commit the biggest sin of all.

I stare at my hands and force myself to put it out of my mind. But as I pull off my clothes one by one, I can’t shake the image of her naked in front of me. Can’t stop myself from picturing her writhing underneath me, begging me for my cock, waiting for me to lick her senseless.

Fuck, I want it all.

Raging like a madman, I step under a cold shower and let the water cascade down my body to cool me down.

But no matter how long I stay there, I’m still hard as a rock.

Still aching to touch her … to claim her.

Still wishing I could make her suck me off without feeling the guilt.

But I won’t allow myself to sink to that level. I refuse. I’ll just have to figure out another way to ease the craving.

So I grab my dick with both hands and start rubbing, imagining she’s doing all the work. I close my eyes and picture her with an open mouth, resting between my legs, licking her lips, whispering her dirty little words.

I want to fuck her pretty little mouth, have her come all over my dick, and make her take it up the ass. I wanna do it all. And I wanna do it dirty.

I wanna do her until she screams my name and begs me for my cum.

And I’ll fucking give it to her, every inch, deep inside her, until she’s licked up every … last … drop.

I groan and come undone, cum jetting out of me against the dark shower wall.

Within seconds, it’s over, and the pressure’s released, but the guilt has only intensified.

I swore to myself I wouldn’t succumb to my needs, but this was the only way I could avoid just that. And this messy wall is proof of my inability to resist sin.

I grab the hose and rinse it off, then turn off the faucet and step out. I dry myself off and put my clothes back on, pretending like nothing ever happened.

Except, when I turn around again, there she is, in the doorway, waiting right in front of me.

Did I forget to lock the door? I must have.

Is this the first time she came in?

Did she hear me moan?

Fuck.

“I …” she mutters. “I’m sorry. For anything I’ve ever done to you to make you feel like you need to do this.”

I’m at a loss for words.

I shake my head.

Is she really considerate … of me?

I can’t believe it.

After what I just did, and what she tried to do … she’s apologizing?

Is this a trick to make me feel guilty again?

Or does she think I’m pathetic?

Maybe that’s it … because I think it’s pathetic too that I had to resort to jerking off to fulfill my needs.

Pathetic. Fucking sad, that’s what it is.

I’m supposed to do good and rid this world of evil. Not create it.

Rubbing my forehead, I close my eyes and sigh. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Then why—”

I place a finger on her lips. “Don’t ask me things that can put you in danger.”

It’s the first time I’ve admitted that she’s still in danger just by being close to me.

Still, I can’t help but gravitate toward her. I don’t want her to feel this way about me. I don’t want her to feel afraid. Don’t want her to go back home because it’ll never be good for her.

Not that I’m good for her … but at least this place, my house, will provide her comfort. She has everything she needs here, and I want her to be happy.

But how do I achieve that?

She’ll never trust me unless I do something to prove she can.

There’s only one thing she wants, which I can’t give to her.

And … her friends.

They’re still there. Right now, I can’t get them out. It would be too risky. But I did promise I’d send them a note for her, so they’d know she was safe. Maybe I can start there.

“C’mon,” I say, pushing her along.

I sit her down on the couch and pull open a few drawers until I’ve found what I’m looking for. My Polaroid.

I normally only use it for capturing the beggar’s gaze, the one they all give me before they die. I save the pictures in my personal library, and only I know the location.

But I’m going to use this Polaroid for something else now.

“Smile,” I say as I stand in front of her.

When she does, I snap the shot.

She jolts from the sound. “What was that?”

“A camera.”

After the picture rolls out, I wave it around to let it develop while I search for a pen. When her smile is visible, I ask her, “What do you want me to write on the back?”

“What do you mean?”

“For your friends,” I say. “I’m going to send them this.”

“What?” Her face suddenly lights up in a way it hasn’t before. I’ve never seen her smile like this, and it’s honestly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “I can send them a message?”

“Yes.”

“But why?” Her eyes tear up.

I sigh and approach her, kneeling to grab her hand, which rests in her lap. “Because I want you to be happy. And if this helps to give you that, even if it’s only a small amount, then that’s enough for me.”

She nods, and her bright smile warms my heart to the point that I almost want to lean in and hug her. But I stop myself before I do and take comfort in the fact that I can at least do this for her.

“So what do you want to say to them?” I ask, licking my lips, curious as to what she’d choose.

“Hmm …” She rubs her lips together for a few seconds. “Fight. Live. Love. Never give up. You will be free.”

I stare at her for a few seconds, but she’s not laughing, nor does her expression change.

Is this what she really wants to say?

Or is it more of a mantra to herself?

Regardless, I pen it down anyway. It’s what she wants, after all. And if this small act can make a difference in her well-being, then it’s worth it.

“There,” I mumble to myself as I tuck the photograph and pen into my pocket. “I’ll have it sent out today.”

“You’d do this for me?” she asks as if she still can’t believe I’m really doing this.

“Yes,” I say, squeezing her hand a little.

Suddenly, she lunges forward, wrapping her arms around my neck and catching me by surprise.

I’m momentarily stunned, unable to even respond to her outburst.

Is she … hugging me?

Her tits squeeze up against me, and she whispers those same words again with that voice that dulls all my pain and makes me want to do things to her that I really shouldn’t.

“Thank you.”

It’s small, but it’s enough to set ablaze a fire inside me that’s not easily doused.

When she releases me again, I have trouble letting go. I yearn for the closeness, her touch… someone to hold. Someone to kiss.

Her.

I’ve wanted her since the moment I first laid my eyes on her.

I could feel it in my bones, in the air whenever she spoke.

My need for her is strong … too strong.

And before I know it, I’ve already pressed my lips to hers.