Page 48 of Lonely
Anna snored softly as I stroked her cheek, marveling over her beauty. I’d never touched anything so fragile before.
Men were big and powerful and stacked with muscles, but Anna was soft and petite.
I traced my thumb over her pouty lips, feeling her breath against my skin. It was hard to reconcile the cunning woman I knew with the one sleeping peacefully in front of me.
Straightening up, I retrieved the tools I’d need from the bedroom and set them on the coffee table. Anna continued snoring, her chin almost touching her chest as I tied her wrists and ankles.
“Addio del passato,” from my favorite opera, La Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi, filled the room as I brought a chair in from the kitchen and sat beside her. I’d waited so long for this, and now that it was finally here, my heart hammered against my ribs. I hummed along to the tune as I reached for the needle and thread on the table. It took a few tries to thread the needle because my fingers trembled with anticipation. I was excited.
Once I’d adjusted her on the couch, I pinched her lips and pushed the needle through the pillowy flesh. Blood soaked the thread as I repeated the process, carefully stitching her pretty lips together.
“Such a good girl,” I whispered, forcing the needle through her skin with careful precision. “Such a very good girl.”
The music hit the bridge as I cracked my neck.
A deep, relieved groan escaped me as I worked the tension from my shoulders. It had been a long few weeks. I deserved this.
After I finished stitching her lips together, I inspected my handiwork. The results pleased me. My little heathen had spewed the Devil’s lies for the last time. She wouldn’t lead me astray again, and she wouldn’t touch Carter.
While she remained drugged and unconscious, I secured the rope to the banister, ensuring it was tight, and covered the floor in plastic sheeting.
Whimpers finally sounded from the living room as I returned with a bucket.
“Good. You’re awake.”
She looked a mess with her matted hair, mascara-streaked cheeks, and blood-smeared lips and chin.
After discarding the bucket by the couch, I pinched her chin between my finger and thumb. Her eyes were big with fear as I inspected her swollen, brutalized lips. Tears hung precariously on her wispy lashes.
She was exquisite.
Her eyes darted around, trying to see past me. I tightened my grip on her chin and shushed her when she tried to scream.
Heavy breaths rushed through her nose as she squeezed her eyes shut and held herself still.
Those wobbly tears finally fell, and I felt their descent in my dick as they trailed down her mascara-streaked cheeks.
“I always pictured you like this, but you’re even better than I imagined.”
Releasing her, I swiped a tear with my thumb, then tasted the saltiness. Fear shone in her eyes as she trembled like a lambbeneath a butcher’s gaze, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she knew she’d never looked more perfect to me.
All those times she’d offered me her body in my office. All those times she’d flaunted herself. None held a candle to this. She finally feared me. She knew I’d hurt her.
I bent at the waist and hauled her over my shoulder. She fought, but it was useless because of her bound wrists and ankles. The classical music drowned out her shrill screams.
I let out a low chuckle and then smacked her ass.
Anna weighed nothing compared to the men I’d had in my house. She was more of a wiggling worm as she beat her bound hands against my lower back.
Reaching beneath her skirt, I yanked her pink thong, sliding it down her long legs. When it slipped off her ankles, I kicked it aside for later.
The rope hung from the banister in the hallway. I gave it a hard tug, then strung the rope around her ankles. When it was tight and secure, I slid her off my shoulder.
She dropped and dangled upside down like a dead deer.
Only she wasn’t dead.
She screamed and fought, her voice muffled behind the butterfly stitches, while I retrieved the bucket from beside the couch in the other room. The more she wiggled and jerked, the more she swayed in midair.
