Page 95 of Colton
Urgh.
I’ve wound myself up at the thought of him watching me strip for him. How can I be so sure he’s watching me anyway? I chew on my lip, staring down at my open blouse.
There is one way to find out.
Chapter 6
COLTON
Is she for fucking real?
Luella is stripping by her bedroom window, her full tits on display as her shirt hangs loosely beside them. She’s scanning the street, a wicked smile on her lips, like she’s looking for someone. Every nerve in my body is on fire, wondering what thefuckshe thinks she is doing.
But then she lifts a rose to her face, inhaling it before throwing her head back, allowing the black rose to do what I want to be doing to her—trailing between the valley of her tits, moving further down, until it disappears. Luella sighs, gazing out at the street longingly. But the rage has subsided now—because now I know that little show was for me. She steps back and moves out of sight, a wolfish smile on her mouth.
Fuck. I’m so fucking hard right now, and it’s her fault. Why would she do that if she didn’t want me to break her fucking door down and fuck her senseless? I would tear that shirt from her body with my fucking teeth.
Go and do it then.
I close my eyes and inhale slowly, then release. The voices are slowly taking over, but I’ll be damned if they’ll tell me what to do when it comes to her.
Because she owns you. She’s in control, Colton, not you.
I swallow my fury, and instead slip away, heading back to my temporary accommodation. It just so happens to be in the same apartment complex as Luella, which comes in very handy. I slide my phone from my pocket and swipe at the screen, the pain in my chest increasing without being able to see her. But then I hit the live feed, and there she is.
My body sags with relief.
Pathetic.
My father’s voice is the worst of them all. The other voices in my head, the relentless whispers that never cease, urging me to act on the darkest impulses. They’ve been with me for as long as I can remember, but they’ve grown louder since Luella left. They’re a constant noise, a torment that’s becoming harder to ignore.
I grip the phone tighter, my eyes locked on the screen as I watch Luella move through her apartment. The footage is crisp, detailed enough for me to see the way her hair catches the light, the slight curve of her lips as she gets ready for her evening. What is she going to do tonight? Curl up and read a book? Watch a movie? God, I want to be in there with her. She’s so fucking beautiful.
You’re pathetic, watching her like this.
The voice in my head taunts me, but I push it aside. I’m not pathetic. I’m protecting her. I have to. She’s mine to protect, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.
She finishes getting ready and pulls on a coat. I perk up.
Another walk.
The door closes behind her with a soft click. I switch off the phone and tuck it into my pocket, making my way to theapartment building I’ve set up base in. It’s not far from hers, close enough that I can watch her without her knowing. Or so I thought. She’s too perceptive, too aware. She knows I’m close.
As I step inside my apartment, the familiar sterile environment wraps around me like a suffocating embrace. I switch on the laptop, the screens flickering to life. The feeds from the CCTV cameras, the café’s security system, even the shower—it’s all there, accessible at my fingertips. I can see her from every angle, know her every move. It’s a relief, a twisted form of comfort.
You’re a sick bastard, you know that?the voice sneers, but I ignore it, focusing on the screens. Luella is walking down the street, her steps measured, her shoulders tense. She’s always on guard, always aware. It makes me proud, but it also drives me mad with worry. She’s a beacon, drawing in the darkness, and I can’t let anyone hurt her again.
I lean back in the chair, my eyes never leaving the screen. The city streets are cast in the soft glow of streetlights, shadows playing off the buildings. It’s not safe for her to be out there alone, but I can’t stop her. She needs her freedom, her independence. I get that, even if it kills me to admit it.
The voices grow louder, a cacophony in my head. They demand, they taunt, they threaten. But I hold onto the only thing that matters—protecting Luella.
Luella turns a corner, and I lean forward, heart pounding as I track her movements. She’s heading towards the café she works at.
Coffee at this hour? No, she will opt for a hot chocolate.
I know my girl well.
It’s a small, quaint place, a beacon of warmth in the cold city night. I’ve been there, watched her serve coffee with a practiced smile, her eyes sparkling with a warmth that hides the shadows beneath.
