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I pause.
This isn’t mine.
I shouldn’t…
My fingers are already pulling the little plastic thread to rip open the envelope.
I know I shouldn’t, but this is for her safety. The packaging is suspicious. The address is not personalized. The contents…
I tilt the large envelope, and a book slides out.
It’s square, maybe seven by seven inches, with a hardcover covered in a soft black fabric.
I tilt it in the light coming through the window, causing the silver lettering across the cover to shine.
Lust Shots.
And my blood thickens with an emotion I can’t pinpoint.
Anger? Jealousy?
I open the book, and my stomach clenches.
Definitely jealousy.
It’s Cassandra. On her knees. On a bed that isn’t hers. And the gauzy little nightgown she’s wearing is pretty much see-through.
I turn the page.
She’s on her back, her head hanging off the foot of the bed, her arms draped down toward the ground, her dark curls pooling between her hands. She’s not looking at the camera in this one; she’s looking to the side. And she’s wearing?—
I grip the book tighter, and the spine creaks.
She’s in a bra and panties. That’s it.
The angle of the shot highlights her giant tits, mounded on her chest, held in place by black lace and underwires.
I turn the page.
She’s standing in front of a full-length mirror. The shot is from behind, and she’s still just in her underwear. This one is in black and white. And…
My breaths are coming faster.
My chest rises and falls as if I’m fighting for my life.
I turn the page.
Again.
Again.
All her. All my Cassandra. Spread out like a fucking centerfold.
For someone else.
My vision tints an ugly shade of green, and I storm out of my house, book in hand.
CHAPTER11
