Page 121 of Corrupting Camille
Little doll.
Whispering filthy words until I’m trembling, shameless, surrendered.
God, how fucked up am I?
My pulse races as I lunge for my phone on the floor. My fingers tremble as I scroll to his number.
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.
But I’m already hitting the call button.
Because if I don’t scream at him right now, the silence will suffocate me.
I’ll drown.
I want to hurt him, punish him. I want to leave him a message that’ll scorch whatever sick hold he still has on me.
It rings once.
Twice.
Give me voicemail. Let me say everything.
Let me say…“Fuck you, Kane.”
Let me say…“I hope you choke on your own silence. On every filthy word you ever made me believe.”
Third ring.
My lips part…
Click.
He answers. Doesn’t say a word. Just silence. Thick. Intentional. Cruel.
I feel him there, breathing steady, waiting me out.
“Say something, goddamn you.” My voice trembles, fury twisted with desperation.
“Something.” His voice slides through the phone, velvet-edged, roughened by amusement.
“You fucking asshole,” I hiss softly.
Silence again, loaded. Patient.
“You disappear for weeks. You pull strings behind my back, freeze my foundation’s funding. You leave me in the dark like I was nothing but a game you got tired of playing…”
My voice cracks, betraying me.
“I hate you for what you’ve done. I hate you for what you’re still doing to me.”
Another weighted silence hangs between us, deeper, darker, heavier.
I feel him through the line, his presence like fingertips skating down my spine. His breathing is slow, calculated, like he’s savoring every second of my torment.
Then he finally speaks, voice low and devastatingly soft. “I miss you, Kane. I want you, Kane. Please fuck me again, Kane.”He repeats my unspoken words back to me, each syllable sharp as glass, slicing through every defense I have left. “That’s what I hear every time you say you hate me, Muñequita. The truth you’re too damn stubborn to admit.”
My grip tightens on the phone, knuckles whitening, fury burning deep beneath my skin. I stare blindly ahead, heart pounding so violently I can barely breathe. He thinks he knows me. Thinks he can read every secret desire I keep buried beneath anger and pride.
