Page 32 of Lonely
Was it so damn hard for him to show some appreciation?
His throat jumped. He cleared it. But then he masked his emotions behind a blank stare and threw the Polaroid back at me. “So you’re a sick fuck like everyone else in this place.”
Sometimes I wanted to wring his fucking neck.
I shot to my feet, barely suppressing the sudden flood of irrational rage his bored expression stirred in me.
Hands planted on the desk, I stared him down. “Don’t you appreciate my effort to ensure your safety?”
The defiance in his gaze had me both hard and on edge. My eye twitched, and my pulse thundered in my ears.
Like a heartbeat.
I slammed my hand down on the desk. Hard.
He didn’t even so much as blink, as though he knew his defiance was the key to my undoing.
But fuck him.
Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him.
“You want to rot in this place?” I asked, lowering my voice. “You want me to turn you into a drooling vegetable and leave you to rot in solitary until you die of old age?” I smirked. “You’d belong to me, you know. No one else would care. The things I could do to you . . .”
“Is this what gets you off?” he asked, calm as anything, almost flippant. “Asserting your power over vulnerable patients? Let me guess. You want me to feel hopeless, locked in this place.”
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs. “Let me ask you something, Doctor. What will you do when I finally roll over and show my belly, like I’m sure countless patients did before me? Will you kill me like you did the doctor? Is that what you do? Kill people to satisfy your sick needs?”
I studied him closely and wondered why he fought so damn hard. Other animals cowered when they were captured. Sure, they fought at first, squirming in the net. But eventually, they gave up.
Not Carter. He just kept on writhing and getting himself more entangled in the web.
“You think I’ll cut you loose if you fight me?” I asked, sensing the hostility radiating off him. “You think I won’t want you anymore?”
Straightening up, I rounded the desk, slowly approaching him. Carter looked at me, his eyes molten green as I walked behind him.
My hands came down on his stiff shoulders, and I pressed my mouth to his ear. “I’ll never grow bored of you.”
A tremor rolled through him as I sank my teeth into his ear, biting hard and groaning my desire for this tempting heathen. Fuck me, he was perfection.
“Don’t you see?” I whispered, shoving him deeper into the seat when he tried to shrug me off. “You killed those people so you could belong to me.”
“You’re sick,” he spat, but he was hard, and his pants were tenting.
“I fucked him and thought of you,” I admitted, sliding my fingers through his greasy hair. “Always you.”
A heavy breath rattled his chest. “Why did you kill him?”
“I told you. He touched you.” I pulled his hair, and he stiffened, gripping the armrests. A wet patch had formed on his pants, but I wouldn’t give in to him yet.
Let him stew in his own shame.
“Why did you fuck him?”
I bit his ear again, whispering, “Because it was you, and you felt so good.”
“Fuck . . .” He grunted, his hips jerking involuntarily.“Fuck. . .”
Just then, there was a knock at the door, and I barely managed to stand up straight before Anna barged into the office.
