Page 16 of Out to Find Freedom

Why was it throbbing at the sight of Ryan fucking?

While I understood why people watched porn and got off on it, everything about this moment and my whole situation was wrong in every possible way. Getting turned on in the here and now sent my mind spinning. What the hell was wrong with me?

The woman moaned and cried out like she was a porn star. Not that I’d seen any, but I’d heard others talk about it. Her noises annoyed me. If I were her, I would be quieter. I’d be kissing him a lot more. I would want him naked so I could touch him everywhere I could.

My mouth dried.

I wanted to be her.

I wanted Ryan fucking me.

In all different ways.

If it didn’t skeeve me completely, I would have reached into my panties and touched myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to. It felt wrong.

Instead, I sank to my knees, hand on my thigh, gripping, and breathing deeply. Trying to calm down. I was disgusted at myself for watching. That was private. I shouldn’t have done that. I was revolted with myself for liking it, for wanting it to be me Ryan was all over, for feeling not only my clit throb but lower. Where I wanted him planted inside of me.

The woman’s cry of pleasure hit my ears. It was loud. Not wanting to hear how Ryan sounded after he came, I curled down onto the bed and pulled the coat over my head. My mind conjured up the thought of me in the woman’s position, but I pushed it away and started counting.

From that moment and on, I knew the thought of keeping my attention off Ryan wouldn’t only be a thought. I had to make it an action, or my sick fascination would turn into something bad. There was no way in hell I would become any type of monster like Gloria.

I was probably being far-fetched, over-imagining what could happen if I kept watching Ryan, but I wouldn’t chance it.

He would exist next door, but I had to curb my curiosity.

I’d continue my days as if Ryan Warden hadn’t moved in.

I would spend my boring existence reading the books I’d read over and over for the last couple of years. I would draw, write, clean, exercise, and try to survive until I had a chance to get away.

IfI got that chance.

No, I would.

Like Lenny had said, they wanted my money. I had to believe they would keep me alive for me to sign it over personally or else they would have gotten rid of me a long time ago. I had to believe that with every breath I took.

Chapter Six

Emerson

The most beautiful thing happened about a month later. I’d kept to my promise; I only watched out the window when I knew Ryan would be at work. I didn’t know what he did with his nights or early mornings. If he worked out or didn’t.

It was late, so late the moon was shining brightly high in the sky. I’d woken from a nightmare sweaty, shaky, and with a hammering heart. Then I heard it. At first, it was just a guitar softly playing. I knew it wasn’t the music Gloria or Lenny listened to because that was heavy and pounding.

This was beautiful.

Rubbing a hand over my face, I got out of bed, seeing enough around me from the light in the toilet room I always left on, with the door just about closed so no light would reach the window. As soon as I moved away from my bed, the music sounded softer. I glanced back to the window. Was Ryan playing music? I went back over to the bed. Since it was a warm night, the window was still open. I climbed up next to it, leaning against the wall.

The soft strum of the strings of the guitar was magical.

I hadn’t heard beauty in such a long time.

What made it more magical was the voice that started singing with the tunes.

Ryan’s deep baritone, along with the guitar, caused me to grip my tee at my chest. Tears sprang quickly to my eyes and flowed over, running a trail down my cheeks.

Turning, I flattened myself against the brick wall, my cheek pressed against it, and I couldn’t help but reach my hand up, fingers touching the window ledge. I wanted to get close, to wrap my whole body in his music. I didn’t know if it was a well-known song or one he’d made up himself; whatever it was, I loved it.

It was something I needed in my life. A sense of softness, of something tender reaching into my chest and lighting it with life.

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