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“Please don’t get angry, I’m not running again, okay?” I look away as he stiffens. Sucking in another breath, I continue. “I miss my life, Mick. I miss my friends. My bed.” I glance over to the couch and sigh, rubbing the kink in my neck. “I don’t want to get locked up again but…I can’t live like this either.” I turn back to him, imploring him to understand.
Mick stares at me for so long I start to fidget.
Fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have just been grateful to not be chained up anymore. At least now I can use the bathroom and watch shitty TV to pass the time.
Fuck. Stupid Paige.
Finally, Mick releases my hand and leans back, nodding. “I understand.” His eyes drift to the wall, expression far away.
I watch him, holding my breath. When he continues his deep contemplation, I whisper, terrified of the answer. “You're not angry? No more chains?”
He focuses back on me and I see guilt burning in his eyes. “No more chains, baby. I promise.” Mick takes both of my hands in his and pulls me closer to him. Bringing the clasped hands to his face, he places a soft kiss on my knuckles. “You can go back to your life,” I suck in a breath as he continues. “But you’re going to need to do something for me first.”
I look at him and the next word comes out without me deciding to say it.
If I had really taken a moment to think beyond the possibility of getting to go home, I would have slapped a hand over my mouth to keep it inside, but that’s not what happens.
Instead, I open my mouth and breathe out the one thing I should never say.
“Anything.”
It’s been several days since my promise to Mick and I’m growing impatient. He hasn’t mentioned me leaving again and hasn’t made any hints as to what he wants me to do in return.
I climb out of the shower and scream as I run into a wall of muscles. Mick reaches out and steadies me, his eyes focused on my hardened nipples from the change in temperature. I put a hand on my chest, attempting to steady my breathing. “Um, what are you doing in here?” I ask nervously, hunting for my towel.
We haven’t had sex since before he chained me up and the tension in the air is so thick you could slice it with a knife.
There’s a few other things I’d like him to do with a knife.
I scold myself for the thought, my cheeks flaming. I’ve had to take matters into my own hands a few times now from memories of Mick sliding the smooth end of his blade inside of me.
Stop it, Paige. Not the time.
Seeing my towel hanging on a hook to my left, I quickly snatch it and wrap up my body, arms folded over my chest.
Mick doesn’t say anything, just watches as I cover myself. Once my breasts are concealed, he shakes himself and looks up at my face. In a low tone, he says, “We need to go somewhere. I’ve gotten you some clothes and put them on the couch. Get dressed, we need to leave in ten minutes.” Without waiting for me to respond, he spins on his heel and exits the bathroom.
I stare after him for a brief moment before getting into action. Wiping the steam from the mirror, I study my reflection. Unsure where we are going or how nice I need to try and make myself look, I quickly brush my teeth and slather on some of Mick's deodorant. He still hasn’t gotten me one of my own and I have a suspicion he likes that I smell like him. I’d rather smell like a man than an old onion, so I haven't complained yet.
Leaving the towel around me, I exit the small bathroom and beeline for the couch. Folded on the cushions are a pair of black leggings, socks, a bra, a black cropped tank and a black zip up hoodie. Leaning against the couch on the floor is a pair of combat boots, also in black.
I see we have a theme going on.
I grab the clothes and look around, trying to find where the underwear must have fallen. When I don't see any, I call out to Mick. “Hey, I’m missing underwear. Where is it?” Mick doesn’t respond but peeks his head out of his room and shoots me a wink before retreating again.
Rolling my eyes, I head into the bathroom and get dressed.
Guess I’m going commando on this adventure.
The mirror has fogged up again and I wipe it clean, staring at myself. I chew on my thumb and decide to braid my hair, figuring I don't need anything fancy if the clothes are any indicator.
As I braid, I try to guess where we are going. This will be the first time I’ll have left the house since he took me again. My stomach flutters with nervous anticipation. This has to have something to do with my payment for getting to go home, I just hope it’s something I can live with myself afterwards.
With one last look in the mirror, I head out and flop onto the couch, shoving my feet into the boots. The sound of quiet footsteps draws my eyes up and I see Mick standing in the doorway to his room, dressed in his own black ensemble. He’s wearing steel-toed boots, a pair of jeans that mold to his muscular thighs and a button up shirt that he has rolled the sleeves up, showing off his forearms.
I lick my lips as I look at him. This man could make a nun sin, he’s so delectable.
Easy girl, this man is also a murderer. A serial killer. And he’s already tortured you once. You need to calm down and keep your pussy in check.
