Page 40 of Orion Ruined

Jonah’s cell goes straight to voicemail yet again and I cut it off. “Fucking asshole!”

I make sure I have the holster with my Colt still in it, then enter the shower. I don’t take it under the water with me, of course, but it has to be within reach, always. I’ve killed more men when I least expected it than when I actually planned to. Go figure.

The water descends on me when I turn it on, and I realize the only reason I’m not in a murderous rage is Maisy. Fuck! My cock’s hard again.

I lift my head toward the water stream and snicker. Reminiscing about what went on a short while ago. Am I fucking daydreaming, like some cunt? Huh. I guess I fucking am. I’m addicted to her and I don’t give a damn.

I’m miles away, deep in Maisy’s cunt, when something outside gets my attention. My sixth sense works overtime, and when it tells me something, it’s usually right, and that’s bad. Not for me–I’d kill whoever’s there–but this time, for Maisy. If she’s still in the kitchen, she has no chance. My blood boils to dangerous levels. Someone will be sorry they woke up today.

I see a shadow under the door as whoever’s outside gets nearer. Fools. They’re just about to enter my bathroom, so I grab my Colt and as they’re standing outside the partly open door, I slam it straight into their face. I hear a loud thud. Whoever’s there did not expect me.

I swiftly pull open the door, aiming straight at–“Maisy?!”

Maisy’s lying on the floor of my bedroom, unconscious. I kneel down next to her and take her head in my lap. “Maisy! Maisy! MAISY!”

She doesn’t respond as the water from my hair and body drips onto her. I check her breathing. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I shake her body and slap her face until I hear a small moan of protest. “Hey! HEY! Maisy!”

She blinks and tries to sit up, but wobbles and falls into my lap again. Thank God!

“What happened?”

“You snuck up on me.” I soften my voice. It’s not her fault I live on the edge of murder and mayhem. “I nearly killed you.”

“Nothing’s changed, then?” Her eyes are closed but I see her lips curve upward.

I can’t help but smile at her sense of humor. “You think you’re funny? Wait ‘til you see the bruise on your eye tomorrow.” I pull her hair to the side, away from her face. She opens her eyes and looks at me. She’s had a shower, and is now dressed in her usual pair of panties and a red cami top. I wish she’d wear something else around the house. It’s driving me nuts. Nobody can concentrate with her dressed for fucking all the time. “What are you doing here, Maisy?”

Her dark eyes have hazel specks dancing around in the irises. It’s like looking into a void, one that absorbs me and allows me to just be. There’s no past or present, just this very moment, being immersed in her gaze.

Now I’m certain. She’s my new obsession.

“You said you’d come to me. I showered, and then I thought you’d changed your mind, so I wanted to wish you goodnight before I dozed off. I’m sorry.” She bats her eyelashes at me.

“I got held up by some shit that’s going on. I’m the one who’s sorry.” I take a pillow from my bed and place it under her head. “Don’t move. Let me get dressed and I’ll take you back to your room.”

I get up and pull on my gray sweats and a t-shirt as she watches me.

“Orion, what’s that?”

Her finger’s pointing behind my back. I know what she’s pointing at. Hence the reason why I never let anyone in my room, unless they know what they’re getting themselves into. But it’s too late now. Maybe this is the best way for her to find out, off her own bat.

I look back at the central feature of my bedroom: my St. Andrew’s Cross, an X-shaped wooden frame mounted on the wall with restraint points on each of the four arms. My toy. True, I haven’t played in a while because there just hasn’t been anyone I’ve connected with lately, but after my day with Maisy, fuck me if I’m not going to ask. Just thinking of her being tied there, spread-eagled and restrained for my pleasure, makes my balls ache.

“What, that?” I better not scare her. I’ve imagined her tied to that cross way too many times. “You don’t know?”

She lifts her head, cocks it sideways, trying to make sense of what she’s looking at. And she does. She’s a smart cookie. A sly smirk appears on her face as she rests back on the pillow. “Oh, you think I’m asking about the St. Andrew’s Cross?”

“You’re not?” My eyebrows shoot up and I tilt my head. “Maisy Roy!”

She loved the spanking, the name calling, the countdown, the control–why didn’t I put two and two together?

She grins. And I grin too. She knows the name of it? Fuck me. She’s the one. I know it. Little slut.

“I’m asking about the thing next to it. The chair… or bench? At first I thought it was for lifting weights, but then I saw the restraints at the base and yeah, actually, I think I know.”

“That’s a spanking bench,” I say, watching her intently. “Have you been on one yet, Maisy?”

She goes back to the little slut I just fucked and shakes her head. Even that makes my cock stir. I’m hard again. Fuck! Will I ever be able to have a conversation with her without being in cock-pain?

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