Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Ely. My perfectly innocent fucking Ely.
Nails sink into my skin, raking down the side of my cheek. The smell of soap, clean skin. Her scent fills my nostrils. Hot breath fans against my throat, and I grip her by the hips with both hands and press her warm cunt against my throbbing cock.
Yes. This is what I want, but I’ve been too stuck in my own head, too afraid to do anything about it.
“Elyse…” I whisper her name.
She’s perfect. Just like I always knew she’d be.
16
Elyse
After the London trip, the days blend. I bounce between nonstop cleaning and schoolwork with an occasional catnap in between. It takes me a good portion of the week to catch up on all the housework I missed when I was away for just a couple of days, but I guess the silver lining in being busy is that I don’t see much of Sebastian.
I shut down the part of myself that misses him.
Instead, I try to remind myself a million times over that regardless of the reason for it, what we did was wrong, and I have no right to be fantasizing about sleeping with my boss—yet I can’t pretend I didn’t enjoy what we did. Even if the entire reason it happened was because of Yanov.
Yanov. Even thinking of him makes me nauseated. I had assumed that when I disappeared, shipped away by my father once again, he would conclude that something happened to me and move on. My father had stupidly promised me to him as his bride, but that was years ago, and several thousand dollars in debt later, he had to use me to pay for his debts. I wasn’t complaining about the circumstances, though. For the most part, I was content living here, happy even. I didn’t live in fear anymore, and even if Sebastian was a bully at times, he never treated me like my father did.
Was it too much to hope he thought I had died? Fate apparently had other plans because now he knew I was alive and well here. That discovery only ignited the embers of an obsession that had never burned out. Yanov isn't just a stalker. He’s worse, so much worse, and I hope I never have to tell Sebastian about the things he’s done to me.
Speaking of, I can only imagine what he thinks of me now.
Weak, probably? An idiot, for sure. I don’t know. He saw me in my most vulnerable state, and while he had the chance to break me down further, he didn’t. I’m not dumb enough to think it’s because he has a heart, though. No, he’s most likely storing whatever he can away to use it against me later.
That’s just the way he is.
I amble back down the staff corridor to my room. I'm exhausted, practically dragging my feet as I walk, and all I want right now is to fall into bed and sleep forever. Before last week, I’d never been out of the country, but I now understand what people mean when they talk about having jet lag, which makes them sleep for days. It’s no joke.
When I reach the door to my room I let out a sigh of relief. Home at last. I unlock the door and shove it open with my shoulder. I can’t wait to fall into bed. Except sleep is the last thing that enters my mind when I catch a glimpse of my bedroom. I blink against the faint rays of evening sunlight that slice through the window.
What the fuck?
The place is trashed...torn to shreds. There isn’t an item left in its original spot. All I can do is stand there, staring in horror. The bedding hangs over the edge of the bed, slashed to ribbons, the stuffing from my pillows strung out across the floor. The dresser’s been ransacked, the clothing ripped out of it, or rather, hanging out of it.
What the hell? I try to keep it together, but the more I look around at the one place I could call my own, the only place I’ve been able to view as a kind of sanctuary, the closer to the edge I get. But it’s the sight of a couple of my academic books, the pages ripped and tossed half under the bed, that makes me completely lose it.
A whimper slips past my lips, and I clench my fists together as my knees buckle. I can’t afford to replace them, but I also can’t study without them.
What am I going to do?
The memory of Sebastian tearing into my dresser and throwing my clothing out onto the floor in a similar manner appears in my mind. Sebastian. He did this. It had to be him. No one else in this house would put this much effort into hurting me. No one hates me like he does. This is probably his way of getting back at me for having to “save” me at the club and messing his plans up.