Page 33 of Creep
The coffee machine beeps when it’s brewed, snapping us both out of our reverie. I move to pour two cups of coffee while Essa grabs the half and half out of the fridge and then over to the cupboard to get the sugar. She takes a mug from me without a single glance and goes about making hers how she prefers it. When she’s done, she hands me the half and half without question and then returns it to the fridge when I’m done with it. It’s a little unsettling how she has already derived how I take my coffee, but I don’t think much into it.
“Well damn, little girl. You’re much smarter than I ever pegged you to be. I’m pleasantly surprised.” I take a sip of my coffee as I move over to one of the stools and take a seat. I raise my cup to Essa in gesture for her to take a seat too. She rolls her eyes—ever defiant—and takes a seat in the stool directly in front of mine. We both sit in silence while drinking our coffee, and staring out into the woods.
The sky is a dark gray and the clouds coating the sky are releasing a constant fine mist, smattering against the glass, distorting the view. But even so, it’s still breathtaking. It’s why I bought this place. I’m constantly surrounded by the one thing that makes me feel so at home. The trees seem never ending and full of secrets. At least, I know my woods are full of secrets; and bodies—another benefit of living out here. It makes it pretty damn easy to get rid of somebody. Also, their screams can’t be heard. I can tear someone limb from limb, cut them into tiny little pieces, and not one single soul will ever hear their demise. It’s fucking perfect.
The silence encompassing us is surprisingly comfortable despite our mutual loathing. We are both clearly lost in our thoughts, or completely lost in our fucking minds. I glance over to her out of the corner of my eye and observe her. She’s staring blankly at nothing in particular. Her pale green eyes are lacking their usual fiery depth and her body is slumped over, her elbow resting on the counter in front of her. For some reason, I miss seeing the fire in her eyes and the attitude she gives me at every turn.
“Do you have a staring problem or what?” she bites out as she clenches her jaw, but her eyes remain blank, lacking their usual spark.
“Yeah, baby, I do. You’re my problem.” I smirk and she balks at me, life momentarily returning to her impassive demeanor.
“What the fuck do you mean I’m yourproblem?I haven’t done a fucking thing today, let alone anything to have pissed you off, so fuck off.” She huffs as she moves to jump off of the stool. I reach out my hand, quickly wrapping it around her throat.
“There’s that fucking attitude. My dick was missing it.” I lick my lips, my dick already hard as a rock.Fucker really did miss her attitude.I squeeze until I know I’m constricting her air flow, her pulse racing against my hand.
“You know, I’ve got an idea of how we can spend a few hours today.” I shoot her a wink as I drag her into a standing position with me, abandoning our coffee.
I let go of her throat and push her in front of me. I guide her in the direction of my game room, my excitement growing the closer we get. Once we reach the door, I open it and shove her inside, slamming it behind me. She tumbles to the floor but quickly gets to her feet. The look on her face is fucking magnificent. Her anger flushes her cheeks a brilliant red.
It’s lighter than the color of her blood, but addictive all the same.
She walks up to me, getting right in my face, seething. This girl's mood swings change from hot to cold in two seconds flat. “Oh, you look mad, baby doll. My bad.” I chuckle as I put my hands up in mock surrender. I sure as hell don’t see it coming when she cocks her fist back and sucker punches me right in the jaw, throwing me slightly off balance from the force and my utter surprise.
If this bitch hits me one more time...
“Damn, baby, you got me good.” I laugh maniacally. Something just snapped inside of me.No, not something, someone. My fucking monster is begging to come out and play with this little bitch and today, I don’t fight it. At all.
I reach my arms out to grab Essa, but she escapes my hold and runs around to the back of my billiards table, standing in a stance which would suggest she’s going to run if I get close enough. The bitch is fucking crazy going from punching me in the face one second to running away from me in the next.
She must have an eye for monsters.
“Come here, baby doll. It’s time to playyyyy!” I cackle as I dart to her. She squeals as she runs in the opposite direction. I stop and we lock eyes. She’s on the opposite side of the table from me. Leaning from side to side in debate of which way to run, depending on me. I lurch to my left so she automatically moves to her left.
We go round in circles a few times, her chest heaving. I remain perfectly calm on the outside, but on the inside, my heart is pounding with excitement. What she doesn’t know is I could’ve grabbed her from the start, but I love a little cat and mouse game. Making her think she can escape me, when in reality she’s fucking trapped, forever in my grasp.
I leap onto the table and launch across, grabbing her arm. I easily yank her up onto the table with me. “Wanna play, baby doll?” I whisper. I grip her cheeks between my fingers, forcing her to look into my eyes. Her pupils dilate in fear when she stares into my own.Fuck, that look makes me so fucking hard for her.
“Fuck, baby. You wanna know how hard the fear in your eyes makes me?” I grab her hand and yank it to my jean covered dick, forcing her to feel how hard I am for her. She tries to pull her arm back, but it only serves to make me tighten my grip on her and force her hand to move up and down on my length.
“Mmm. Yep. Time to have some fucking fun.” I shove her away from me and leap off the table, moving to sit in the oversized stuffed chair in the center of the room. I actually fucking hate this chair, hence why I never should’ve allowed some dumbass interior designer to design everything in my house. But if I’m being honest, I couldn’t be bothered to do it, even now.
The chair sits directly in front of the pole which takes up the center of the room. I love watching my slaves dance for me, working their bodies in extraordinary ways all in the name of pleasuring me, of making me happy.
Yes, that’s what Essa needs to do, my little fucking tease.
Not glancing to where I know she still stands, I bark out at her, “Get the fuck over here, baby doll.” I keep my gaze turned away from her, purposely acting indifferent and listening as she quietly jumps from the billiards table. She makes her way to me slow as hell on purpose. She may be complying with me right now, but the deviant little bitch still has to act out in some way. One would think with the wounds covering her ass and upper thighs, she’d get the fucking clue to stop being a disobedient little bitch, but of course she doesn’t. She still has to be a brat.
I bite my tongue as I swallow the words of anger I was about to spit out. Because as much as I hate to love her little acts of defiance, I need her to listen to me right now. I need to let her think she has some semblance of control.
All part of the plan. In order to fuck someone’s mind, you have to make it seem like their idea.
She finally stands in front of me, her fingers twisting together with her nerves yet again. I grab her hands, halting them.
“Stop. No need to be nervous, baby. This is gonna be fuckin’ fun, for meandfor you if you’d drop your nervousness.” She glares and snatches her hands from mine. Leaning back, I grab the crystal decanter filled with bourbon from the side table and pour myself two fingers of my favorite whiskey. I take a drink and savor the flavor as it burns its way down my throat.
I lean back again, folding my hands behind my head and spreading my legs, getting comfortable. My mask of indifference slips over my face like a veil, hiding any emotions she could possibly read from me. I’ve noticed when she’s around, I slip—which I shouldneverfucking do—and let the mask fall away but no more of that shit. I’m done with her control over my subconscious.Amongst other things.
“Strip.” I demand.
