Page 57 of Little Puppet

One I’m dying to keep playing.

When I come, I lift off the seat into his hand, riding out every drop of the high as he nibbles my ear.

“Good girl, puppet. Good fucking girl.”

A whimper escapes as the last visages of orgasm throb through my body. He tugs his fingers out and cleans them thoroughly, and I’m in a trance as I watch him.

“Come, darling. Let’s go home.”

Home isa penthouse apartment in the city next to Dunhaven, the town I’d gotten off the interstate in to make my way to my mom’s house.

My heart wavers as I realize I’ll never see her again. Eventually, they’ll pronounce me dead, all while I’m living a few hours from her upstate.

Cain had left his tow truck at the storage yard, then led me to his Audi parked not far from the tow truck.

The penthouse is pristine, with marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city below, and granite decorating every inch of the kitchen and bathrooms.

The shower looks like something you’d find in amansion. The house’s theme is black, and it’s splashed against tans and creams, making the vibe a bit clinical.

It doesn’t fit the Cain that I know one bit.

“Come, I’ll show you to your room.”

My room?

My footsteps make so much noise against the floors, clacking annoyingly. This isn’t how a home should feel. Even the farmhouse felt more homey than this penthouse does.

“I’ll have my own room?” I ask, thinking it’s confusing when I thought I was more to him than a live-in plaything.

Or maybe that’s all he can handle romantically.

Romantically? He kidnapped you!

I shiver at the thoughts still warring in my head. When I think I’ve worked everything out, I get more confused.

“I figured you’d like to acclimate to your new life before we move forward. You’ll need space to process, I’m sure.”

The tone of his voice and the way he’s behaving is different. He feels… off. I can’t put my finger on why, but something’s wrong.

“I thought you’d want to keep an eye on me, is all…” I trail off as he turns and looks down at me, something like shame in his eyes.

“You’ve said you’ll be my good girl. I don’t think there’s a need for that.”

We stare at one another momentarily, and then hesighs, cupping my face. I forget all the bullshit in my head again and close my eyes.

His touch silences everything, even the things he’s caused.

“This is going to be an adventure for us both, Grace. I want you to be comfortable. I’ll leave you to get settled. I’ve already arranged for your closet and bathroom to be stocked. I hope you’ll get used to living here soon.”

He walks away, and I’m stunned.

The way he spoke was elegant and kind, even warm. But it almost made me uneasy and uncomfortable. It was like he was play-acting.

He’s donning an acceptable role now that we’re in the outside world.

The most fucked up thing about it all is I didn’t like it.

He acted like the man I should want— an average, sweet man—and I wouldn’t say I liked it.

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