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“I ordered you some new clothes. They were delivered earlier.” He points at a box sitting on top of his dresser, and I swing my legs off the mattress. Eager to get to my clothes, I get up from the bed, but my legs are still too weak and give out as soon as I put my weight on them.
I brace for the pain when I inevitably hit the floor, but it never comes. Instead, a strong arm wraps around me, keeping me in place.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.” His rough baritone in my ear calms down my erratic heartbeat. I hate that he has this effect on me. I hate that I lean into him, seeking comfort from the man who caused me to be this helpless in the first place.
He climbs off the bed while never letting me go. Supporting most of my weight, he walks me to the dresser so I can look into the box. As we move, I notice two things. One, he is wearing boxers. Two, he must have cleaned me up because there is nothing sticky or uncomfortable between my legs. I almost thank him for that, but then I remember how fucking ridiculous that would be. He doesn't deserve a thank you for that small sliver of kindness.
When we get to the box, I half expected to find skimpy dresses and high heels, but to my delight, I found comfortable-looking skinny jeans and soft, loose-fitting sweaters. Even the underwear he got is the same kind I would get, sexy but comfortable.
“How did you know what kind of stuff to get?” I ask while picking out an outfit.
“I went to your place, remember? I checked out your closet while I was there,” he admits unapologetically.
“Right.” That’s not creepy at all. I would probably say that out loud if I wasn’t so thankful for the clothes he got me.
Since I’m still so wobbly on my legs, he makes me sit down on the end of the mattress and helps me get dressed.
“What is it about the girl being passed out that turns you on?” I’m probably going to regret asking, but a part of me needs to know more, needs to make sense of this.
“I don’t know. Why?”
“I’m just trying to understand you.”
He finishes putting my underwear and socks on without a word. I step into the pair of jeans, and I’m convinced he’s not going to answer me when he finally does. “I guess a part of it is her being helpless, unable to say anything. I’m in complete control. But then there is that other part, which might be even more appealing… there is no judgment. I can be who I am without pretending, without wondering what you might think of me.”
“Oh…” I’m taken aback by the honesty in his voice. I feel like he just told me a secret he’s never told anyone before. The question is, is that a secret I’m going to cherish, or is it really a nightmare I have to wake up from?
13
Alaric
"Why don't I know anything about you?"
I raise my eyes to meet Monroe's. She's looking especially fucking delectable today in a pink floral dress and cute sandals that expose her pretty feet. The urge to bend her over the table consumes me, but I remind myself I need to behave in public. Still, all I want to do is bury my cock to the hilt inside all of her pretty pink holes. The thought is really fucking distracting, so I return my attention to my untouched plate of food in front of me.
We're sitting in the booth of the diner we've been to before, having dinner. She's behaving for once, so I haven't been forced to handcuff her yet. But her question is probing, and I don't like it, so I growl, "Because that's how I like it. You don't need to know more than you already do."
"But I want to know more about you." She hungrily eats her waffles while I devour her with my gaze. Something about the girl is so damn enchanting. "I want to know where you come from and what your family was like. I want to know everything about you, Alaric. What made you the person you are today. Tell me about your family. Please?"
"God, you're fucking stubborn." I pick at my omelet, my appetite waning. "My family... they're long gone by now. I told you already, I don't have a family anymore."
"But what happened to them?" she insists. Surprisingly, her stubbornness doesn't annoy me. It's kind of cute. "Why aren't they around anymore? Did you cut off contact? Did they? And why?"
"They're all dead, Monroe."
"Oh." She bites her bottom lip nervously. "I'm sorry, Alaric. I didn't even think... Did I upset you?"
"No." I shake my head, waving my hand dismissively. "It's in the past. I'm not hurting over it anymore. But I like to keep these things where they belong. Behind me."
