20. Dolly

20

DOLLY

I felt the warmth of the morning light as it filtered through the fully opened curtains. The change in weather was coming fast, and the air in the room was chilly. I pulled the blankets up to my chin and stared out the window.

The thick remnants of sleep clung to me—as did what happened last night. I rubbed my legs together, the soreness between my thighs enough that I grimaced slightly. I felt a stickiness on my skin and remembered Lars's cum leaking out after he fucked me.

Adrenaline rushed through me as last night replayed in my head, this erotic, kinky, and dangerous movie reel repeating like my very own porno.

I blinked slowly, my body tangled in the warmth of the sheets, and the very idea of getting out and facing the reality of what I'd done—what I did with Lars totally consensually—scared the hell out of me.

But despite the fear of facing the music, so to speak, something was different, unfamiliar… but welcoming. What I did know was I wasn't in the small room I'd grown up in. I wasn't in the purgatory that had always been my life.

The life I tried running from for as long as I could remember.

I closed my eyes and inhaled. The sheets held the deep and wholly masculine scent that was Lars. My heart skipped a beat as I remembered that I wasn't in my room—no, not mine, the one he kept me in. I was in his bedroom.

I shifted carefully, my body reminding me I was his slut last night, first in the forest then in his bed.

And I don't regret any of that.

My mind was a blur of memories—of Lars chasing me through the woods, of his raw intensity consuming me… and how I needed more of it.

And then he finally caught me, claimed me, and made me his whore. I should've been afraid, should've been terrified of every aspect of Lars. And I had been at first. I didn't know what had changed, but I felt… different.

I should've fought harder, but here I was, lying in his bed, and all I could feel was a confusing mix of emotions that all revolved around wanting more of what Lars could give me. A look beside me showed he was asleep, his breathing even.

I sat up and glanced around the room. His bedroom was as I imagined it would be—dark and sparse, rugged yet organized, as if he had to have everything in its rightful place.

There was a large wardrobe in the corner, similar to the one that was in my room. There was a rickety-looking chair pulled up beside the bed, a small bedside table, and two books sitting atop it.

The scent of him clung to everything, and I felt my heart beat faster because it made me feel… safe.

Oh God. I'm insane.

As I took it all in, my eyes landed on the bedside table again, and my breath caught. Those were my things.

I was naked, so I pulled the blanket lying across the end of the mattress around me and quietly slid out of bed, walking silently over to the table with slow steps. He'd taken pieces of my life. I picked up a hair tie I'd lost weeks ago. I gasped when I picked up the small bottle of my favorite perfume, the one that I thought I'd lost in my travels.

My throat tightened as I realized he'd taken them—kept them like trophies.

I played with the hair tie, feeling its familiar texture between my fingers. It was just a cheap thing I'd bought before I left for my trip. It was so insignificant, but I wondered how many times Lars had picked it up and ran the elastic between his own fingers.

These items were unimportant, but seeing them here made me feel like he'd needed pieces of me close to him. And at the same time, these items now seemed like a part of a life I left a long time ago.

I realized the other stuff on the table were things I'd picked up along my journey. God… he'd been following me for so long, through all those different countries, and hiding in the shadows. Each item was a reminder of how closely he'd been watching me.

I should have felt violated and angry, but instead, a strange sense of calm washed over me.

How twisted was I that I liked the fact that he'd kept these things?

That he'd literally stalked me?

I crept closer to the door, and my heart was pounding in my chest. I couldn't shake it off that being with Lars—in this dark and twisted way—made me feel more wanted than I ever had in my entire life. But as my hand wrapped around the doorknob, the thought of escaping playing through my mind, I looked back at Lars once again.

He still slept soundly, his chest rising and falling. I stood there for a moment and just took in his bare chest. The sheet was pooled at his waist, so his broad shoulders and defined chest covered in dark but trimmed hair were on display. His waist was tapered, and that V of muscle was visible until it disappeared beneath the sheet.

I should run. I should leave.

Instead, I lay down beside him again, his warmth drawing me in like a magnet. He stirred slightly, and I knew he was waking when he slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer. His body was solid and warm, and the now-familiar scent of him surrounded me like a cocoon.

Deep down, I knew why I didn't run. I'd never belonged anywhere. But I belonged here. With Lars. My past had been filled with people who were abusive and indifferent at best, cruel at worst. I'd just been drifting through this world, wanting to escape. And I had. I'd gone farther than I ever thought possible.

Yes, Lars had taken me, but in doing so, he'd made it clear that he not only wanted me but that he needed me. He kept pieces of me—stolen bits of my life—but he cared about me above all else, even if it was in a twisted way.

I lay there, my body tucked against his, and let myself feel it—the forbidden comfort of being wanted, even if it was by a man who kidnapped me and kept me as his captive. His fingers moved lightly up and down my spine. And for the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged somewhere, and that place was with him.

I was anchored here, with him, in this dark place where the line between love and obsession blurred, because they were one and the same. It was dangerous, yet here I was… accepting this.