Page 18 of Under Fyre

Chapter Nine

Fyre

I’m a sick man. Apervert. My psychopathy knows no fucking limits. I got out of there as soon as I could, but she knows. How couldn’t she?

I have no self-control.

If I wasn’t so fucking obsessed with seeing this through, I’d terminate our relationship. If I didn’t know that I’d shrivel up and die if I wasn’t with her every waking moment of the rest of my life…I’d open the front door and let her run away.

Arrow senses my mood as soon as I turn and lock Charlotte’s bedroom door. My dog doesn’t follow me when I head for my room—she stays standing in the middle of the hallway.

Perhaps she feels the need to protect Charlotte if I happen to turn around.

I can only hope she will.

My bedroom door slams. I press my back against the smooth wood, willing it to stay shut.

I wore loose pants today—my cock tents the front, throbbing with desperate need.

Stripping off my clothes, I turn on the shower and step inside while the water is still ice-cold. The shock slackens my jaw, makes my muscles tighten and ache…but it does nothing for my raging erection.

If anything, the pain of that icy water on my sensitive, scorched skin instantly turns to pleasure.

I groan, wrapping my hand around my shaft, squeezing until I’m about to pass out.

More pain.

Infinitely more pleasure.

The memory of Charlotte’s teal eyes, drowning in tears, sends a hard pump of blood through my cock.

I FOUND GOD IN HER EYES.

Sick fuck Monroe.

His little game is one of many he played with his captive. I chose this one because of the dice. A symbol for Charlotte. A talisman of sorts. Something she can hold, can control. Objects have substance—memories not as much.

I start stroking my cock, tortuously slow, willing myself not to think about Charlotte.

It’s impossible.

Her face fills my mind. Her trembling lips. The tickle of her damp hair against my neck as she clung to me for comfort.

This is why therapists don’t sleep with their clients. It crosses the line, breaks the rules…but more importantly, it makes it so easy to lose control. To forgetthe plan.

I’m relating to Charlotte on a different level. Predator to prey. It might as well have been me who played with her like a brand-new toy.

Whobrokeher.

I should consider taking a sedative. Something to keep me neutral while I work with Charlotte.

But what could I take that won’t dull my mind?

My hand moves faster. Charlotte’s lips brush my neck, her tears wet and cold against my skin.

I can’t stop thinking about her hand in my lap. How close she was to my cock.

I could have made her play the game, if I wanted. I could have done what Peter did. Would have rolled the dice, and told her she guessed wrong. Make her stroke my cock. Make her open her legs so I could shove my fingers up her cunt. Shove other things up there too.

---