Page 109 of Tempt Her

But tonight, I’m grabbing Gentry’s phone. The agent left me instructions on how to download their spyware onto it. I just need thirty minutes.

My plans distract me while it doesn’t take Gentry long. It’s been weeks since he’s touched me, and I guess he missed me in some sick way. His dick spits his vile seed on my chest while he drools over them, too, “Take that, bitch,” he grunts while I beg the shadows upstairs not to charge down here and kill him.

I’m used to this.

I don’t care what Ford has to witness me suffer because it’ll be worth it.

Gentry staggers back, stuffing his pink Tic-Tac into his blue gingham boxers.

Still, he eyes me, glaring like he’s not done. Usually, when he finishes, he leaves me. But not tonight. His evil glare snakes around me.Oh, shit.All the things he can do to me, the pain he can inflict until it makes him hard again.

It makesmesweat, my heart racing, my eyes scanning the room, landing on the crystal flower vase on the bookshelves. I can use it to crack his skull open if I have to.

But then… he groans.

Doubling over with a sudden stabbing pain, the extra spice of poop powder I served him kicks in. He starts sweating, agony twisting his red face before he turns white as a ghost and rushes upstairs, flicking on the lights while I don’t even pick up the dirty plates in the parlor.

I just grab a napkin and wipe his snot-for-semen off my chest.

Bouncing up the stairs, I’m tempted to check on Ford. He’s in the bedroom on my left. The door is open, flooding the hallway with shadows, but it’s not safe yet.

I have to be sure.

Acting like I give a shit about the river of shit that has Gentry on the toilet for an hour, I coo to the closed bathroom door, “You okay?” Relishing how he can’t see my guilty smile. “Maybe it’s the cheese, sweetie?”

Gentry can only groan back while I skip into my closet and take off this stupid dress.

I’m burning every “proper” piece of clothing he bought me.

As soon as he’s arrested, I’m wearing tight clothes. Black leather in the winter and white bodycon dresses in the summer. I’ll never wear panties unless it’s the exquisite lingerie Ford buys.

And I’m selling that lingerie brand in my store one day. It flatters bodies of all sizes. And I’ll wear fuck-me heels now because Gentry’s so short; he insisted I never rise above him.

But soon… I’ll soar as my stilettos stab him like a cockroach.

Throwing on a nightgown Gentry bought me, it covers me like a beige circus tent, part of his fetish for the matronly. Whatever. At least it protects my tits.

When he crawls into bed, still sweating, drained, and shaking from the intestinal treat I fed him for dinner, he’s asleep in minutes.

The hurricane rages outside. The glass creaks in the windows, fighting the sustained winds. It’s only a category one storm, enough to blow down trees and knock out power. But we won’t get a storm surge, so I have no cares in the world while I wait another hour until he’s snoring.

Then I sneak out of the bed.

CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT

Intertwine by Señora May

I’ve seen some fucked up shit in my days. Thirteen years in the Army as a Ranger has haunted memories firing across my mind at random moments.

But what I just saw with Stacey and her sick husband?

I know why she turns her head and looks away, but I didn’t. I watched the whole thing. I thought I would break the wooden stair railing I strangled in my grasp instead of his skinny neck.

Far be it from me to judge kink. Clearly, I got mine.

I thirst for control. I get off on power. I need someone who desires the order as I do. But I need them to feel safe, to trust me. I crave being in charge of someone’s pleasure because I promise to give it.

But that sick fuck, with his “Mommy” issues. That ain’t kink.

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