Page 10 of Impure Vows

She takes it, her hand trembling slightly. “Who’s it from?”

“Didn’t say. Just instructions to get a signature.” He shrugs, playing his part to perfection.

She scribbles her name, her gaze flicking up to Gio'’s face, suspicion etched into her features. “Thanks,” she mutters, taking the package.

“Have a good day,” Gio replies, turning on his heel and heading back towards the SUV.

Aliyah lingers, her eyes scanning the street once more. She clutches the package, her fingers white-knuckled. I can almost taste her fear, her uncertainty. Fuck, it's intoxicating.

As the door closes behind her, a dark satisfaction settles over me, curling through my veins like smoke. The game has begun, and I’m holding all the cards, every move calculated to perfection.

Aliyah can run, she can hide, but she’ll never escape my grasp. She’s mine, whether she knows it or not. My obsession is a fire that won’t be extinguished, and every step she takes only brings her closer to the inevitable.

The SUV pulls away from the curb, merging into the flow of traffic. My mind races with plans, strategies, each one designed to draw her closer, to bind her to me. The anticipation thrums in my veins, a dark promise of what’s to come.

The next day, I'm back in my study, surrounded by the silence that only amplifies my thoughts. I'm reviewing anotherselection of gifts for Aliyah, each one meticulously chosen to ensnare her further. My eyes linger on a set of black lingerie, delicate and barely there.

The lace feels soft between my fingers, an intimate whisper of promises, and I can't help but imagine how it would look against Aliyah's skin. The thought alone sends a jolt through me, my cock reacting instantly, throbbing with a need that refuses to be ignored. The anticipation is a constant hum, urging me to take action, to claim what's already mine.

This isn't just about lust; it's about control, dominance. Aliyah will come to understand that her resistance is futile. I close my eyes, letting the fantasy fuel my resolve. The time is coming, and when it does, there will be no turning back for either of us.

I definitely want to see her in this, I decide, holding up the lingerie. I imagine how it’ll cling to her curves, the delicate fabric barely concealing her body, the contrast stark against her skin. She won't be able to hide from me. Every inch of her will be exposed, vulnerable to my gaze, to my touch.

My mind wanders, picturing the way the lace would hug her form, the way her body would respond under my touch. “It won’t last long,” I murmur to myself. “I’ll tear it off her, expose her completely, make her understand just exactly who she belongs to.” My fingers tighten around the lace, the fabric a mere prelude to the real thing. I picture taking it off her, slowly, savoring every inch of her bare skin.

I can almost see her now, standing before me, vulnerable and exposed. Her dark eyes would be wide with fear and something else—something she can't quite name yet. With time, Aliyah's fear will then give way to acceptance, and then, to submission. I will mold her, shape her until she realizes that her place is by my side, bound to me by more than just fear. She will give herself to me to be mine, completely and irrevocably.

I place the lingerie back down, my fingers brushing the delicate fabric one last time. The need gnaws at me, a relentless hunger that I can't wait to satisfy.

I smirk, relishing the anticipation that courses through me. The delicate lace is more than fabric—it’s a declaration. Not only will she be mine, but she’ll know, without a shadow of a doubt, that she belongs to me.

Reaching inside my desk, I grab the notepad and pen, tapping the pen on the desk. The rhythmic sound is almost soothing, a counterpoint to the dark thoughts swirling in my mind. I want Aliyah to feel the fear deep in her core, to make her so nervous and unsure of herself. While she spirals, I'll remain sure of one thing: I will own her.

I shake my head, pressing the point of the pen to the paper, a dark smile curling my lips. I can barely contain the rush that courses through me.

Each stroke of the pen feels like a binding chain, tightening around her freedom. I lean back, admiring the starkness of the words. They’re not just a threat; they're a promise. A promise that no matter where she goes, I'll be there. Her fear will be my leash, her uncertainty my control.

The ink dries quickly, sealing her fate with each letter. I imagine her reaction when she reads it, the creeping dread that will seep into her bones. Fear is a powerful tool, and I intend to use it to full effect.

The message is simple, but potent.

I am always watching.

6

ALIYAH

Istare at the box sitting on my kitchen counter, my fingers twitching. I didn’t order anything, and the sight of my name neatly printed on the label sends a chill down my spine. My hands shake as I tear the packaging open, revealing the contents inside.

“What the hell?” My voice is barely a whisper. I pull out the delicate fabric, my heart racing. The lace is soft against my fingertips, and I’m struck by how expensive it feels. This isn’t something you pick up at a department store. As I lift the perfectly sized lingerie, a small piece of paper flutters out and lands on the counter.

I place the lace back in the box, my hands trembling. The note is plain, just a single line scrawled across it. I pick it up with shaking fingers.

I am always watching.

My stomach plummets. I stagger back, hitting the edge of the counter. The room spins. Who sent this? But even as I think it, I know I don't have to ask.

He found me. How else do I explain the man outside and the expensive gift. I don’t even know anyone in the city with moneylike this to just throw away on a stranger, plus, who else would it be?

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