Page 97 of The Invite
Stupid little prey.
Though it’s not really her fault. I did ignore her for almost a whole week. For all her cute little attitude in the texts yesterday that betrayed she was missing me, whether it was because of the orgasms I’ve made her addicted to or the lustful fear I invoke in her, she’s going to regret it after tonight.
Oh, I see my car is still parked undamaged in her driveway.
In our last encounters, I was taking it slow by easing her into her new reality. It’s time to show her just how monstrous I can be.
The lights are all off downstairs as I walk down the short hallway to the staircase. The steps creak as I ascend it. Idon’t need to worry about her hearing the mild noise because I checked on the feed that she’s fast asleep.
It’s going to taste so sweet reminding her I’m back.
Every time she thinks it’s over, I’ll return and pull the rug out from underneath her feet. Over and over again. Until she goes crazy and can’t spend a single moment without me.
The past week without her has only made me more famished.
I reach her bedroom and tip the ajar door completely open. A lamp on the nightstand illuminates her form on the opposite side of the bed. She lies on her side, facing the doorway with her hair in a low ponytail.
The blanket is tangled around her knees as though she kicked it off mid-sleep. It gives me an unobstructed view of her scantily clad body. My cock pulses at the sight of her in a set of panties and tank top with one strap falling down her slender shoulder.
Her outfit makes my job easier.
Crossing the threshold, I shut the door behind me and turn the lock. She doesn’t stir and I glance around her room. It looks different than all the other times I’ve been here. She’s redecorated and added more personal knickknacks to make it homier.
A portrait of a sand timer with a black-and-brown background hangs up on the wall across from her bed.
Hmm, intriguing choice.
I notice the little things she’s replaced. The clock, the curtains of the sole window, and the carpet at the foot of the bed. So dark colors are her favorite. I take note of it.
Approaching her side, I push her loose hair away with my knuckles and hook them behind her ear. Her face glows under the soft light of the lamp and looks so peaceful. Etched without a crinkle to enhance her exotic features.
Her eyelashes flutter as though she’s dreaming.
Little does she know her nightmare is standing right in front of her.
Time to wake the sleeping beauty.
I would tie her spread-eagled but I love her fight far too much. I want to see if her first instinct is to hit me or yank me closer. A voice trickles into my brain wishing for the latter.
I shove it back down.
Nessa is nothing but a toy.
A fact I took a week to relearn and in a span of a few seconds, I’ve forgotten yet again.
Walking across the room, I place the camera I brought with me which I use to shoot my videos in the exact spot I hid it the first night. I’m wearing my balaclava with a skulled jaw painted over it and only my eyes are visible.
Switching on the recorder, I stalk toward my muse. The hedonistic rush that courses in my veins is unlike any I’ve ever experienced in the past. There’s no comparison. Nothing is scripted. Unlike my other shots, there will be no retakes. I don’t need to submerge myself into a role.
I’m justme.
The devil who owns Nessa's mind, body, and soul.
As I reach the end of the bed, I brush my fingers against her right ankle before softly skimming them up her calf, behind her knee, and over her thigh. Goosebumps erupt on her flesh, reacting to my touch in her subconscious.
The fall and rise of her chest are even and steady with her breathing as I rest my other hand beside her head on the pillow. Keeping my gaze pinned on her face, I shift my hand against her inner thigh, loving the softness of her luscious skin, and inch them higher toward her heat.
I may be the commander of her hell, but there’s no doubt she’s my little piece of heaven in a wretched world.
