33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Kayla

Dazed from Ethan's ruthless assault on my mouth, I only realize I'm lying on the floor when the cold seeps through the thin material of my T-shirt. One of his hands is at the back of my neck, the other one kneading my breast. I whimper as he rolls my nipple between his fingers.

I know he promised to make everything up to me, but I didn't think he'd start straight away. And as much as I'm primed to have sex with him again, there are currently other things I crave more.

"Wait." My whisper is lost in my gasp as he lowers his mouth to my neck and nips at the sensitive skin. I almost let him continue, but other basic urges are getting harder and harder to ignore. "Ethan, stop," I say more forcefully, tugging on his hair to get his attention.

To his credit, he stops immediately, pulling away from me with a startled expression. "I'm sorry. I thought—"

I hold my hand up to stop him. "I want to have sex with you," I tell him to clear out any misunderstandings, then pause to think about my next words.

As much as I like this cute, bashful version of Ethan, I also like the confident stalker Ethan, and I want him back. He'll probably need a moment to recover after reliving those awful memories, but I can't have him thinking I'm afraid of him now or that I resent him, especially since nothing could be further from the truth. I admire him, and I need to make sure he knows it.

Also, I'm not ready to end this kidnapping scenario before I get more kinky, rough sex. Preferably with ropes instead of handcuffs this time because the metal cuffs are anything but comfortable, and I'll probably have bruises from how hard I yanked on them when I was half crazy with lust.

"I will absolutely hold you up to your promise to make it all up for me. However, I'm not having sex on this cold and hard floor. Also, I need to pee, take a shower, and eat something. And your hand needs to be cleaned and bandaged. After that, I expect my big, scary kidnapper to see to my other needs."

Ethan blinks, his lips parting a little as he stares at me. I can almost see the wheels in his head turn as he mulls my words over, trying to make sense of them.

When he still doesn't say anything, I decide to needle him a little. "I know I risk being a disobedient captive and angering the man holding me here against my will, but I have to say this. For a man with such a vast experience with kidnapping people, you suck at taking care of your captives." I grin as I say the words, making sure he knows I'm just making fun of him.

I can almost hear an audible click when he finally figures it out, his eyes widening as he realizes I want to turn the very real kidnapping into a roleplay.

Doing my best to ignore the fact that I just completely astounded a serial killer—because what the hell does that say about me?—I hold Ethan's gaze, challenging him to pick up the gauntlet. And he does. Boy, he does.

Without breaking eye contact, he wraps his hand around my throat, giving it the slightest squeeze. I'm still on the floor, and he's hovering over me, giving me no room to escape. My core clenches with need, my arousal flaring. Unfortunately, the motion also squeezes my bladder, reminding me how painfully full it is.

Looming over me, Ethan lowers his mouth to my ear. "You're the first captive I want to keep alive," he whispers, his breath ragged. "And I suggest you behave if you want to keep it that way."

His words shouldn't be sexy. They should be absolutely frightening. He has killed dozens of people. He stalked me. Drugged me. Kidnapped me. It would only take one squeeze of his large hand on my fragile throat to make me one of his victims. I can't run. I can't fight him. He can do whatever he wants with me.

And while all that combined should have me crying and screaming, all I feel is my pussy throbbing, desperate to be filled with his cock. If I didn't feel like my bladder was about to burst, I'd beg him to fuck me right here.

He holds me down for a few more seconds before releasing his grip. Warmth returns to his eyes as he stands and offers me his hand.

Once we're both standing, he pulls me into a tight hug. His arms are wrapped around me, and while he could easily touch my ass or any other part of my body, he seems content to just hold me. I lean into him, resting my head against his chest as I hug him back.

"You're so perfect," he says, resting his cheek against the bonnet that's still somehow on my head, albeit crooked. "I mean, I knew you were perfect from the first time we met, but I never realized just how perfect you are."

"I thought you were rude," I snicker. "You just ignored me and left!"

His shoulders twitch with a suppressed chuckle. "Ignored you? I've been obsessed with you ever since that moment. I just needed a minute to deal with the fact you just turned my world upside down. In fact, at first, I didn't even believe you were real. I thought I had finally lost my mind and hallucinated you. I didn't think someone as perfect as you could exist in the real world."

Oh wow. Be still, my heart! I don't know how he can be so dark and dangerous at one moment only to be sweet and caring in the next one, but I love it. "I'm not perfect," I object, and certainly not because I'm fishing for more praise. Not at all.

"You are perfect for me. Now," he clears his throat and steps away, sparks of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Would you like me to show you the bathroom, or would you prefer if I locked you up in the basement and brought you a bucket?"

I shudder. Pretend-kidnapping is nice, but there have to be some boundaries to the game, and this is definitely one of them. "Bathroom, please," I say.

Ethan laughs heartily. "Thought so. Come on."

The door to his secret lair swooshes closed as we exit, and after Ethan moves the dart target back in place, it's like the secret room has disappeared out of existence. I could spend days down here and never notice there's a hidden door.

Just like I expected, the door on top of the stairs is unlocked. Well, that is not entirely correct. It's locked with a simple, sturdy latch, clearly intended to keep people from coming in, not stop them from leaving.

Finally out of the basement, I don't waste time admiring Ethan's house, but I bolt for the bathroom door the second he points it out to me. Only after the most pressing need has been taken care of do I look around, busying my fingers with finally untangling my sleeping bonnet from my hair.

The bathroom is pristine, no surprise there. There's not a speck of dust or a smudge of limescale in sight. Everything is neatly organized. The towels are precisely folded and flawlessly aligned, the toiletries on the shelves each positioned with meticulous precision. In the spacious shower area, all bottles standing on the shelf have labels facing forward and are arranged in the exact order a person would use them when showering.

My pink toothbrush is sitting in the same cup as Ethan's utilitarian gray one, and my own toiletries take up an entire shelf in the cabinet by the mirror. A whole new bottle of my favorite body lotion stands behind my almost empty one, ready to be used when the first one runs out. I didn't buy the new one. Ethan must have done it. He also moved me in with him so seamlessly that it looks like I've been living with him for weeks.

Speechless, I stare into the cabinet, unsure how to feel about it. It should be scary, right? He didn't just kidnap me. He took my clothes, my toiletries, and god knows what else, and placed it all in his house, as if it was obvious I was moving in. I've had zero say in it. No choice. And yet…

After what we shared moments ago, I'm not afraid of him anymore. I truly believe that if I told him I didn't want this, he'd let me go back home. It probably wouldn't stop him from stalking me, though, the thought bringing a smile to my face.

I like Ethan. I like him a lot. We've only spent a few hours together so far, and I spent half of that time handcuffed to the bed and getting railed within an inch of my life and the other half contemplating his murder victims. Moving in with him might be a little premature. However, I feel like I've known him for much longer.

Though his presence in my house has been mostly invisible, it was a constant I got used to. I might not have acknowledged the fact that he had cameras all over my place, but I talked to him all the time, regretting he couldn't respond to me. Well, now he can, and I am curious about what he has to say.

I shrug as I close the cabinet door, deciding to just go with the flow and see where it takes me. Right now, I hope it will take me somewhere with food.