Page 12
Chapter 3
Ryder
Kitten was angry.
I had learned long ago how to discern her different types of anger. She was a treasured book in my collection, and I was an avid reader. My favorite type was her petty anger; it was adorable when she pouted. And then there was this one. The dark one.
She was furious, and I wasn’t sure if she would, or even could, forgive us. Forgive me. We had not only lied to her, but had betrayed her trust. Trust was difficult for her to give, I had come to realize. She had lived a tough life, constantly under this pressure to be perfect, and the fact that she was willing to love and trust a demented soul like me was beyond incredible.
But of course I had to ruin it, like I ruined everything.
Pinpricks of fear ran up and down my spine. I didn’t know what I would do with myself if she decided she wanted out of this new, precarious relationship. I supposed I could love her from afar, the way she deserved to be loved.
But could I live with myself knowing I had her love and lost it?
My emotions ranged from self-loathing to fear.
What had this girl done to me?
She turned me into a romantic sap. I used to laugh when I saw men like that, men like me. I didn’t believe a love like that could even exist - an all consuming love where your entire being and happiness depended on hers. I lived for those moments when she smiled. I could sing songs forever about her laugh, though my own music failed to accurately portray such a beautiful sound. The way her face lit up when she was animated. The furrow to her brows.
Perfect.
She was the epitome of perfection.
I stared at her closed bedroom door, unable to garner the courage to knock. What if she sent me away?
Man up.
Steeling myself, I rapped my knuckles against the door. When she didn’t immediately answer, I let myself in.
And froze.
She was standing beside her bed, surveying the clothing items she had set out. Her hands were on her hips, and her brown hair cascaded around her shoulders.
She was also wearing nothing but a black bra and red, lacy panties. Normally, I wasn’t much for mismatched lingerie, but with her?
I could’ve sworn my brain malfunctioned.
All of that silky, alabaster skin on display...
My cock began to throb painfully.
“Shit,” I managed to say at last. “Sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” she asked, laughter in her voice. “Did you need something?”
There was so many things I needed. So many things.
Every monologue I had planned was completely forgotten. I couldn’t even remember why I had came into her room in the first place.
“I…”
She was so perfect.
So beautiful.
And she was mine.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12 (Reading here)
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82