Holding the end of her leash in a tight grip, I lead her toward the living room. My heart racing like a wild horse as we approach the room. I fucking hate it. There’s reason to be alert right now, but not the way I am right now. I need to calm the fuck down; I need to stay focused and in control.

  And I will.

  No matter what will happen now.

  No matter what will happen in a few hours—or days.

  Chapter 58

  Petal

  There’s nothing uncommon about this house.

  And yet, there is.

  I didn’t feel anything when we first stepped out of the bedroom that has been my prison for so long. It was just an empty hallway, white walls and big windows, with a wooden floor beneath my naked feet. There was nothing about it that struck me in any way, except for the view to the outside.

  I couldn’t see the ocean, but I could see trees, streets, houses even. I thought we’d be in the middle of nowhere, but it looks like this house is part of a small town, with people living right next door, even though I didn’t actually see anyone walk down the street.

  Would they hear me scream? If I had seen anyone, would it have been smart to bang against the window for their attention? Would that have been my way out?

  Or would there only be punishment so harsh I wish I’d never done anything in the first place?

  There’s still time to find out.

  But once we reach the first floor, I’m troubled with questions of an entirely different nature. Because here, I feel something.

  We pass the entrance area as we come down the stairs, stepping on white marble floors that match with pristine high walls around us. The main door stands in stark contrast with its dark wood, looking sturdy and heavy, just like the door downstairs in the basement. I only cast a quick glance in its direction, but I notice how even that little eye-blink of curiosity makes him nervous. He doesn’t really expect me to run, but he’s prepared for it nonetheless.

  And even I don’t know if his wariness is warranted or not.

  Would I flee if I could? Even if it meant I’d never get my questions answered? Would I be ready to face the outside world, without even knowing what’s waiting for me out there? Even walking through this spacious house with its high ceilings intimidates me more than I’m comfortable to admit.

  I stay close to Jayson, keen on giving him no reason to worry about my potential escape. He doesn’t need to know how much solace his presence gives me. Right now, as we turn right, making our way through the generous entrance hall of the mansion, I can honestly say that I’d rather be close to him than try to escape into uncertainty.

  I wonder if he’d believe me if I told him.

  He hesitates for a brief second, coming to a halt and taking a deep breath before he guides me through an open archway that leads to the other side of the house.

  I follow him, my eyes widening as a rare sensation washes over me.

  A sense of familiarity.

  We’ve stepped into a bright colored kitchen that’s adjacent to a large living room. Bright colors dominate the interior here as well, white and gray with the occasional blue speckling the furniture and countertops, giving the rooms a clean and nautical look.

  Everything appears rather unlived in at first, but when we pass through the kitchen on our way to the living room, I see things lying around here and there, telling signs of someone living here.

  There’s a used coffee mug next to a french press and a little plate with crumbs, leftovers of a single person’s breakfast, all gathered on the high-top counter that separates the kitchen from the living room. He had breakfast alone, sitting on one of the high chairs at the counter instead of the dining table that’s right next to it. The table is empty except for a few opened newspapers.

  He stops when we reach the center of the living room, making a halt directly in front of the big dark coffee table that’s placed in the middle of the room. White leather sofas are arranged around it, facing to a wide front with ceiling high windows and a terrace door. Semi see-through drapes in white are closed before the windows and the door, allowing some light into the room but no actual sight of what lies behind.

  I turn around, startled by a clicking sound coming from behind. I hadn’t even noticed that he moved behind me while I slowly wandered the living room, magically drawn to the thin drapes that tease me with freedom.

  The sound I heard came from him clipping the other end of the leash to a hook at the side of the counter. Just like the one that’s fastened to the ring at my collar, this one is additionally secured by some kind of screw, demanding more time and labor to lock and unlock the clip. It wouldn’t be impossible for me to free myself, but I could only do it if I was given a few moments by myself.

  And I doubt he’ll give me those.

  He tightens the screw, making sure it sits tightly before he looks up at me.

  “You can roam, or sit, do whatever you want,” he says. “I’ll make us something to eat.”

  His eyes trail along my naked body, taking in every inch from head to toe while I tense up under his stare. I refrain from shielding myself because I know he wouldn’t approve, and I don’t want to give him any reason to retract his decision to bring me down here. I may be naked, I may be on a leash—but at least I’m one step closer to finding answers, and my own freedom.

  He steps closer, reaching beneath my chin to hook his finger through the ring at the collar as he leans down, his face close enough to mine for our noses to touch.

  “I suggest you don’t try any funny business, Petal. Because trust me, you’ll fucking regret it if you do. Be a good girl, and I’ll be good to you. Understand?”

  I nod slowly, my eyes locked onto his.

  “Yes. Master.”

  “Good girl.”

  He plants a kiss on my forehead before he retreats, pinching my left nipple between two fingers, pinching it so hard that I jerk up in pain. He holds on to it, squeezing and pulling while he observes the contortions on my face as I process the taste of anguish he’s giving me.

  A crooked smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, laced with sadistic satisfaction at my discomfort. I sigh with relief when he lets go of me, staying behind with a bewildering throbbing spreading throughout my core. It’s like that every time. Every time he comes close to me, every time he looks at me, every time he touches me. Every single time he finds just the right switch to turn me into this needy mess, only craving for him to do it again, while my previous contemplation is cut short.

  There’s yearning in my eyes when I watch him walk back to the kitchen, and it overshadows everything else I might have been feeling since we came down here.

  But only as long as I let it. And as soon as I fight my way out of his mental grip, I’m confronted with the same eerie feeling that washed over me when I first set foot on the first floor.

  That feeling of familiarity. It’s even stronger here in this room, almost hitting me with the force of déjà vu.

  I have been here before.

  Something happened in this room. I don’t know if it was something good or bad.

  But I know it was turbulent.

  Chapter 59

  J

  I can’t stop.

  I can’t stop her.

  I can’t stop myself.

  I surrender the moment her lips connect with mine, dismissing the outside world. I have longed to taste her for so long, I don’t even recall what it’s like not to want her.

  She tastes sweet, spiced with juniper and lemon that lace her hot lips. Her entire body is burning, emitting heat that is not caused by alcohol alone. There’s a strong claim in her kiss, something that surprises me. I expected her to be shy and cautious, even when she’s the one to take while I’m merely willing to give.

  I carried her inside the house with intent, keeping her body close to mine, never interrupting our kiss while I make my way across the living room. A feeble squeal escapes her when I lower her down on the sofa, reversing our roles from before by hovering on top of her. Our erratic breathing fills the room, and she opens her legs for me, wrapping them around my waist as she demands me closer.

  With each moment, each movement that brings us closer, the voices inside my head grow louder.

  You can’t fuck her. You shouldn’t. It would mess with her head.

  But everything about her begs me to do it, and even worse, she’s pleading for the things I have to offer, begging to be taken my way. She moans in approval when my grip around her tightens, she grabs my wrist, guiding my hand beneath her dress, closing her hand around my fingers with her flesh in between with such force that it could almost bruise her.

  “I want you to hurt me,” she breathes, proving my suspicion.

  She opens her eyes, and I’m relieved to find her gaze clear and aware, by far not as fogged as it was just a few minutes ago. She’s here for this. It’s not just drunken levity that feeds her urge, it’s something she truly wants but possibly doesn’t dare ask for.

  “I know you want to, Jayson,” she goes on. “I know you want to do this to me. And I want you to.”

  I hate how fucking right she is. And I’ve always suspected her to crave the things I offer. I wouldn’t be drawn to her if it was any different.

  But it’s this very moment when I finally find it within myself to put an end to this. I freeze, my lips still on hers, still breathing in the same wild rhythm while my grip on her upper thigh tenses for a reason other than desire.

  She just turned eighteen. She just graduated high school, and she’s about to leave this area soon, very soon. She’s supposed to leave. She’s supposed to go out in the world, to experience something new, unburdened and without the attachments that have slowed her for far too long. She needs to get away from her father, from her home—and the memories that put her down, even when they may not be clear to her.

  I was the one who always encouraged her to do this. I’m the one who makes it possible for her to follow this dream.

  I can’t mess it up for her. Not now. I can’t give her yet another battle to fight when she just won the first indication of freedom.

  “We’re not doing this.”

  My announcement is followed by a determined retraction. Her eyes follow me, a heavy shadow of disappointment cast over her pretty face as I get up and away from her as quickly as possible. It’s almost physically painful to remove myself from her like this. Every fiber of my body wants this, my heart still races like a wild animal and my cock stretches the denim of my jeans with such force that I can barely move without wincing.

  This is the hardest battle I’ve ever fought, but I know I’m doing the right thing. Not for myself, but for her. There are already too many forces urging her to stay and put her own dreams on hold. Her overbearing father, Christopher, the long-term friend who I am sure is anything but happy in his current place in regard to her, her best friend, a loyal but uninspiring small-town girl without any ambitions outside the domestic bliss promised by safety.

  She deserves more than that, and she wants more. But if I put my own desire before hers, I’ll only make it harder for her to leave. I know that.

  Because I know we’d be good at this. We’d create fireworks.

  It would be too good for her to leave. And I may not even let her if I knew exactly what I would say goodbye to.

  “What did I do wrong?” she wants to know, casting me a hurt look as she sits up and fixes her dress. “Is it because I’m a virgin? Because I—”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” I cut her off in a harsh tone, trying to push away the agonizing knot inside my chest.

  I could have been her first. And I said no.

  I deserve a fucking medal for this.

  “It wouldn’t be right, not now,” I say, trying to walk away from her. But she doesn’t let me. She jumps up from the sofa, her hand digging into my left upper arm as she holds me back.

  “Why? What’s so wrong about it?” she wants to know, positioning herself in front of me to prevent me from going any further. Her proximity is warm and soothing as it is inciting. She’s standing so close that my bulge is brushing against her belly, and when she notices it, she only steps closer, smirking at me while she tenderly rubs her body against mine.

  “I promise I won’t tell anyone,” she whispers. “It could be our secret.”

  There’s already one secret tying is together. I don’t need the burden of another.

  I place my hands on her shoulders, gently pushing her a step back.

  “Trust me when I tell you that it’s better not go through with this, Petal.”

  A treacherous shimmer coats her green eyes and her lips are trembling as she speaks.

  “I don’t get this...,” she whispers. “A moment ago you were—”

  “Yes, and I’m sorry for that,” I say. “I should have stopped it right away. But I couldn’t.”

  A single tear rolls down her cheek while the expression on her face turns from sad to bitter.

  “You don’t think I can handle it,” she assumes. “You don’t think I can do this, have a fun night with you and leave it be without any strings attached.”

  “Wouldn’t you agree that it would make things harder?”

  She shrugs, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “We will never know, will we?”

  A deep sigh flees her and she turns away from me, walking across the living room and toward the French doors that lead out to the terrace. It’s almost completely dark by now, only a faint ray of light still contouring the horizon.

  “You’re a fucking coward, Jayson,” she hisses without looking at me. “Or... you played me. Is that it? You made me believe there was something special between us, just to—”

  “No,” I cut her off. “I would never do that to you, Petal. That’s exactly why I’m stopping this.”

  She’s wrong about the latter, but maybe she’s right with her first assessment. Maybe I am a coward for rejecting her tonight, because I fear the consequences it would bring for both of us. But I’d rather be called a coward than carry the guilt of stopping her in her tracks just as she’s about to take her life in her own hands.

  She turns around to me, shame and rage flaring on her pretty face. My stomach turns at the sight of her, knowing I’m the one who’s causing her this pain. I’m the one who humiliated and pained her by saying no to something we both want.

  Something I have wanted for years.

  “I came here because I wanted to celebrate with you,” she utters through gritted teeth, her eyes glistening with the first harbinger of tears.

  “I was happy, elated. I wanted to have fun with the only person who understands,” she continues. “The only person who ever supported me in all of this, the only person I...”

  She tries to suppress it, but the urge to weep takes a violent hold of her, cutting her off mid-sentence while her hand flies up to her face as if she was trying to save herself from falling apart.

  I want to hold her. I want to calm her and tell her that it’s for the better, that this decision is not a true reflection of how I feel about her, not in that sense, anyway.

  But instead, I watch her from afar, like I always have, my insides still burning with desire for her, still tasting her sweet lips on mine. I have so much routine in keeping my distance to her that it comes naturally to me, even now when no one but myself can stop me from being close to her.

  “You have a different adventure ahead of you, one that is far more important,” I tell her. “I want to help you embark on that journey, instead of retaining you with any kind of attachment.”

  I take a step forward, trying to break my hard-earned habit, but she raises her hand in defense, signaling for me to stay away from her.

  “Petal, please—”

  “Don’t you fucking dare call me that right now!” she yells at me. “I’m not your Petal!”

  Tears are streaming down her heated cheeks as she glares up at me. I can tell that she’s torn apart by negative emotions, unable to decide which one she should act on. Shame? Hate? Fear?

  “I’m so sick of this,” she utters, her lips trembling as she forces herself to speak while being overwhelmed with the urge to wail. “I’m so sick of men telling me what to do and what not to do. I thought you were different! I thought you’d let me have this!”

  She shakes her head, wiping away the tears with a violent brush of her arm.

  “But you’re just like them. You don’t think I’m capable. You don’t trust me to do this...”

  She fixes her dress and combs her hair with her fingers, moving with the haste of a drunken person in anger when she stomps away, heading toward the door.

  “Petal—”

  “No!” she yells, turning on her heels as she points a finger at me. “You don’t get to call me that, Jayson. Not after this.”

  Her eyes turn narrow, the expression on her face fueled by disappointment and pain.

  “I’m not your Petal,” she hisses. “And never will be ever again.”

  I believed her then. I believed I had lost her forever.

  And I continued to believe it for four cruel years.

  Chapter 60

  Petal

  The sound of boiling water plays in the background as I slowly meander through the room, as far as the leash allows me to.

  I can’t reach the windows or the door, but I can step close enough to snatch a glimpse of what lies behind them, a vague idea, if nothing more. It appears to be bright outside, much brighter than it was on the other side of the house.

  “Is this where the ocean is?” I want to know, pointing at the thin drapes in front of me.

  Jayson is standing a few feet away from me, next to the stove where he appears to be making pasta for us. He nods. “Yes.”

  “Can I see it?” I ask, my heart jumping with excitement at the sheer notion of being able to see the ocean. “Could you open the drapes for me?”