Page 11 of Mimic
I played the part I needed to play. I bided my time and acted the perfect submissive pet until one day George Stone let me go.
What I went through wasn’t as bad as what Rose had endured. I would have stayed locked up forever if it meant Rose didn’t have to go through what that bitch had done to her.
“Here. If you insist on staying, the least I can do is try to make it comfortable.” Indie dropped a couple of pillows and a blanket on the couch.
She didn’t know that I could sleep standing up if I had to. I’d done it before. Except I wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. Patch said she needed to be woken up every few hours to make sure she was okay. He gave me a list of things to look for.
She stared at me, waiting for me to thank her. When she didn’t get what she was looking for, she scoffed and turned back down the hall, slamming her door behind her.
I looked at my watch. It was only nine o’clock. Even if I planned on sleeping, I’d never fall asleep this early. My captivity had conditioned me to require the bare minimum hours of rest.
I paced around the small apartment, checking the locks on the windows and doors a second time, watching the street below for anyone who might want to come back to do more.
Indie said nothing else had happened, but she was unconscious and the cameras were down. The bastard could have done anything and she’d never know.
Her bedroom door opened, and she slipped across the hall to the bathroom. The sound of water running spread through the apartment. I groaned as my dick stiffened when a vision of Indie, naked under the water spray, filled my head.
I settled myself in a place where I’d see her when she exited the bathroom. I sat there waiting, my eyes never leaving the small dark hallway. My reward for my patience came with the sound of the click of the doorknob.
Steam poured through the doorway, and I leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees as I waited for her to step out. Time slowed down, similar to a movie I’d secretly watched as a child after my mother and sister had gone to bed. Indie slowly stepped into the hallway in nothing but a small towel that barely covered her ass.
My sharp inhale drew her attention as her head turned in my direction. She was hot as fuck. Her perfect white teeth dug into her bottom lip, and all I thought about was how I wanted them to bite mine. I wanted to sink my teeth into her skin and mark her.
Tattoos encased her arms and legs. The distance between us made it hard to see the details, but the details weren’t important. Ink was sexy on women, but on Indie it was erotic.
It was sensual and seductive. I stood from my chair, desire leading my actions. Her eyes widened, in fear or lust, I couldn’t be sure. Either way, she quickly dashed behind her bedroom door.
I stood frozen. My body wanted to storm down the hall and slam open her door and take what I wanted. Thank God my head prevailed. I rubbed a hand on the back of my neck and moved out into the hall.
Letting the door slam so she heard it close, I leaned back and ran my hands over my face. I’d never had such a visceral reaction to a woman before.
Dakota paraded women in front of me from the time he locked me up until his father let me go. He had sex with them and made me watch. Some were willing.
Many were not.
It disgusted me the way my body reacted as he took what he wanted despite the way they fought him. Rage consumed me at the way I reacted to Indie. I wanted to cut off my fucking dick. I refused to be like him.
I understood my sister a little better in that moment. Her need to hurt herself. To cause herself pain to push back whatever she was feeling.
“Fuck!” I hissed, before opening the door and closing it a hair lighter than a slam. I wanted her to know I was still here. I wanted her to feel safe, but my reaction to her in that damn towel might have had the opposite effect.
I dropped myself onto the couch, letting my head fall back as I stared at the ceiling. I should call a prospect to come stay here. Or maybe Haizley.
For five years I had held my desires back. Held back the images that played through my brain when I jacked off in the shower. The faceless woman I envisioned at my mercy. It had always been enough.
Until Indie.
For hours I paced through Indie’s small apartment. I scrolled through my phone. Turned on her small television. Anything I could do to pass the time until I woke her.
I stood at the end of the hall. Inhaling long, slow breaths as I calmed the blood roaring through my veins. I shouldn’t be here. It should be someone else watching over her. Someone who could control the urge to make her submit.
My hands fisted and un-fisted at my side as I tried to gain control of my thoughts. I could do this. All I had to do was walk in there, wake her up, check on her, and walk out.
I crept down the hall. My mind raced at what I’d find inside her room. I prayed she slept in something. If she were naked under the covers, I might not make it out.
I slowly turned the knob. Light from the building next door streamed in through her open window, immersing her room in a warm glow. My gaze roamed over the room, taking in every detail, giving myself a moment to calm my nerves before I looked at her.
My eyes searched her out, and my breath caught. Fuck, she was gorgeous. Her platinum hair splayed out over the pillow. Her face, bathed in light, looked relaxed as she slept. There was none of the tension in her features; the hardness was gone.
