Page 62 of Little Puppet

I often wonder if I’ve lost my fucking mind. Or if Cain unlocked something in me I didn’t know was locked away in the first place.

Maybe he saw what I couldn’t.

“Mm, darling. I love it when I walk into a room and you’re naked.”

I lick my lips as he comes behind me, enveloping me in his scent, his hands traveling down my stomach and over the new piercings that lead south.

“Don’t tease me unless you plan to deliver, psycho.”

He chuckles, nipping my ear and grinding his cock into my backside. “Don’t I always give you what you need, puppet?”

It wasn’t long after I forced my madman to come back to me that he told me everything: how he changed his name, using the same men he had to change mine, and how he existed in the world as someone other than who he was.

He had to remake himself to feel whole.

I’m the only woman he’s kept, and the knowledge seemed to lock something in place for me, something I needed to know before becoming his good girl.

I’ve always been a bit overwhelmed by life. I neverfound where I fit before. I went through the day-to-day motions, barely surviving, smiling fakely through it all.

Until I met Cain.

I feel alive now. Even at work, thoughts of what I’ll go home to later dance in my mind until I clock out and rush home.

I’m living now.

Though I know I have to accept something living within Cain, it’s not time for that yet.

When the time comes, I’m sure we’ll survive it.

My chest tightens, and I ignore it. Choosing to focus on the man standing behind me, demanding attention as he slips two fingers inside me. I bend over the counter, hands gripping the granite as I moan and press back into him.

“There’s my girl. You looked a bit bogged down in there.” He taps my temple with his other index finger, watching me in the mirror as I fight to keep my mouth closed and my eyes open.

“Look at me, Grace. Watch my fingers fuck your pussy.” He backs us up until his back hits the open door, the door banging against the door stop.

His booted foot comes between my legs, kicking them open so that he can spread me with one hand while his other fucks me expertly.

“There you go, darling. Now you can see what I do to you.”

I’m dripping with arousal around his fingers; his handis glistening with it against the bronzed-finished vanity lights gleaming overhead.

The hand that spreads me slides north, finding the hook pierced through my nipple as he yanks on it, tugging my breast upward.

“Cain,” I whimper, bucking on his hand.

“All in due time, puppet. Before I suspend you from these pretty little hoops of yours, I want you dripping with cum.”

My moan is loud and drawn out as his heel presses against my clit, fingers speeding in pace.

He lifts my nipple with the hook, twisting it in little waves and adding to the heat thrumming my body.

“Look at yourself, puppet. Look how fucking good you are for me.” His voice is dripped with heat and malevolence.

When he dragged me from my car into the cold grass of the woods, I had no clue that this was what we were going to become. Puppet and master, in a dance of wicked euphoria until the day we die.

I fight to keep my lids open as my body tightens and burns.

“Cain,” I get out in warning.

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