Page 100 of Voyeur

I knock on the door, hoping it’s locked. That she’s been a good girl and kept herself safe while I was handling business.

Locks sound, the chain being the last before it opens to me. She looks up, tentatively biting her lip. A simmering heat flickers across her face. One I’d left on to boil before leaving earlier.

“I was worried,” she says softly before moving back and allowing me inside.

It’s past dark, the time I told her I’d be back. But I packed for a few days and cleaned up a little before running a few errands that took far longer than I’d anticipated.

“Yeah. Sorry about that, I should’ve texted.”

I’m not used to texting. I’m not used to having anyone give a shit where I am.

“It’s alright. Did you get everything done that you needed to?”

She’s making small talk. Why is she making small talk?

She turns around, toying with the hem of her long sleeve shirt that’s over dark jeans. She’s got boots over her jeans that nearly touch her knee, and they look so fucking sexy.

As I take in the intricacies of what her posture and movements are telling me, her breathing changes.

“Mmm, I did, little one. And what did you do with the rest of your day?” I ask, stepping forward. She backs into the bar that separates the kitchen from the living room area.

“I read,” she admits, barely a whisper.

A book lies open on the bar, flipped open and upside down.

Credence,the title reads. Looks mundane enough. But when I lift it and read the page that she’d placed it down on, I lick my lips and look down at her, tsking with my tongue three times.

“So, is the rouge on your cheeks from what I did before I left here, or is it because of this filth you’ve been reading while I was away?” I ask.

She breathes out. “And if I said both?”

I shake my head, letting a laugh go before I even realize she’s struck another crack in the wall surrounding my heart. It’s been like this ever since my lips touched hers for the first time. Me trying to hang onto my good sense, and her breaking me down at every fucking turn.

“I was going to apologize for what I did earlier. It’s all I’ve been thinking about since I left you standing in your bedroom,” I admit, placing the book back down, careful not to lose her spot. Because if what she’s reading has her this ready to see me, I don’t want to impede her finishing.

“You don’t need to apologize. I asked to see you. I wanted in,” she taps my chest, “and you let me come in.”

I had, hadn’t I? I’d let her see a sliver of the dark thoughts I fight in her presence. That I fight because of what I’ve seen. What I’ve done.

“I appreciate you trusted me enough to let it happen, little one. Because your trust means the fucking world to me.” I palm the bar, caging her in with my arms, leaning down and capturing her lips with mine.

I peck her lightly, pulling an inch back and watching her eyes close and her breathing grow shallow as I affect her just as much as she does me.

“I do trust you. I’m safe with you.”

“What did you feel? During your punishment?” I ask breathlessly.

She’s so fucking intoxicating. I can barely hang onto my common sense after this morning.

“Everything. I was angry, and then it felt good, and then I wanted more. So much more,” she admits. “But when you left...”

I bite the inside of my cheek, bracing for what comes next.

Her eyelids open. “I was throbbing, Gage. Aching for your touch, and you just walked out.”

I swallow. “And how did it feel?”

“I was so fucking mad.” Her beautiful face grows even redder.

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