Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
I missed her in the playroom, missed her tied down and helpless, missed her greedy little pussy, missed her hungry mouth.
I missed her in the bathroom, the memory of shaving her pussy until she was perfectly smooth for me too fresh in my mind.
I missed her, always.
Calling Maria didn’t help solve shit. I did find out Pet stayed in touch, and she gave me as much information as she wanted to after finding out what I’d done to her best friend. She was cold on the phone now, sweet Maria who would’ve crawled up to me given any chance she could get at one time. She hated my guts, and she had every right to do so.
I called Stranger, but he never picked up. I didn’t bother tracking him down, knowing I’d only get kicked out if I found where he was staying.
I never called Pet once.
I deleted her number off my phone and off my records so I wouldn’t tempt myself. I regretted it every fucking minute.
The place beside me where she slept remained empty, and I wanted her back. Wanted to feel the warmth of her body against mine, feel her body stir as she woke up slowly in the mornings. I couldn’t take life without her, because life with no Pet in it was no life at all.
So, I just drank it away, drop by drop, glass by glass, and then, finally, bottle by bottle. I tried to leave my problems at the bottom of it, but it never quite seemed to work out that way.
And then I was there a week later, painfully sober, and even more painfully, alone.
I missed her with every fiber of my being, missed every bit of her, every cell that made her Pet, every thought that made her my girl.
And that night, in my study, I drank to her.
I raised a glass to the city, looking down at the lights, and I drank a single glass for my perfect pretty little Pet, knowing it was the last time I’d get to call her that in my mind.
She wasn’t my Pet anymore, and she’d be happier for it. Eventually.
Goodbye, my Pet.
Thank you for playing with me.
Thank you for making me love you, even though I swore I wouldn’t.
Goodbye.
Thirty-Six
Stranger
I’d never had a girl in my apartment before her.
It felt weird to take her there after the ride in the cab. I kept her on my lap the whole time, barking orders at the taxi driver who seemed too freaked out by a shirtless tall as fuck dude to say a word back to me.
Finally, we pulled up in front of my building, and I gently lifted her out of the car and carried her inside.
The building sure as fuck wasn’t as fancy as King’s penthouse, but it was still nice; a townhouse in a row of houses that all looked the same. Possibly a strange choice for someone like me, but I liked living there. It was a tall building with too much space for just one person, especially given the time I spent in there, but I wouldn’t give it up for the world.
I carried Pet up the steps and opened the door, locking it behind us. She held on to me so tightly it almost felt like I’d have to peel her off me. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to keep holding her.
It was impossible to believe what that bastard had done to her, and I knew I’d regret not doing more damage to him when I’d kicked his ass. I didn’t understand why he didn’t fight back, because I wanted him to.
I wanted to kick him and punch him and hurt him while she watched. But he wouldn’t fight back. And the thing that hurt more than any of his hits, was the way Pet still looked at him.
I knew if he’d asked her to stay, I’d be leaving without her.
There was something between them, a connection I couldn’t understand. She couldn’t let him go until he made her do it.
She looked small and vulnerable in my arms as I carried her up to the bedroom.
It was the mostly sparsely furnished room in the house, with only a bed and a lamp in there. I set her down and she pulled me on the bed with her.
“Do you want to go see a doctor?” I asked her as she squirmed against me, making me hard despite my best efforts to think about something else. “We can go to the ER, or I can call someone for you, it will be discreet, I promise.”
“No,” she said weakly, and gripped on to me.
My shirt looked better on her than it ever had on me. She was naked underneath, and when I tentatively reached between her legs, I could feel several bleeding cuts from the bottle. I cursed out loud.