Page 71 of Until I Own You

Bridget’s face flushes, her mouth parts in awe. Remembering.

“Come to the club,” I say. “Tonight.”

Bridget blinks. “Tonight?”

“Is there an echo in here?” I tease, quirking my eyebrow and looking away.

“Seth…”

I laugh at my own stupid joke, then cock my head to the side. “You’re a good girl, right?”

“I…am.”

“Then you’ll come see me tonight. In the Underground. I’ll have our room ready.”

Bridget’s eyes alight at the mention of “our room.”

I place a finger into the ridge of her clavicle where both bones meet. “I love that you are wearing your collar tonight, pet.”

Her eyes shut.

I take her head in both my hands, kiss her forehead with finality. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

I leave her in the kitchen, say my goodbyes to my mom and Solomon under the guise of having an emergency at work, and head out to get ready for Bridget’s next training session.

13

BRIDGET

Leaving the house is harder than it should be. I spend a little time helping Dad and Amelia with the puzzle, then say goodnight to them under the guise I will be returning to my apartment for the rest of the night.

“Sleep tight, pumpkin,” Dad says before planting a kiss on my cheek.

I can’t help but feel they can see the guilt on my face. The fact I’ve lied to him. Not only am I lying about staying in for the night, but I’m also lying about staying in for the night to go to the Underground.

And furthermore, the person I’m going to visit at the Underground…

No. Stop. I won’t let my mind go there.

Not when I know what’s on the other side of giving into temptation.

I get changed, opting for a black dress.

Once I’m dressed, I stand and stare in the mirror for far too long.

My heart has been punching itself out of my ribcage since I woke up this morning, knowing I would see Seth after what feels like so long. Then, of course, the second I come downstairs, we run into each other in the most literal sense.

I felt him get hard against me. Only took a single touch.

I was thankful he was able to pry himself off of me because I’m not sure I would have been able to handle my carnal impulses.

Every night, I touch myself to the memory of him fucking me. The fullness. The tender domination. The unrelenting pleasure.

I hope he will recognize how good I’ve been trying to be. I have not texted him or tried to reach out despite my anxiety flaring with each passing day. There’s a niggling question in the back of my mind that enjoys taunting me in quiet moments.

What if he’s changed his mind?

I draw my hand to my neck, stroke the choker. My placeholder collar. I touch it every time I start to get overwhelmed by fear.

---