Page 97 of Cruel Betrayal

I pause, sitting on the ground beside the couch, crossing my legs, the wine making my head feel a little hazy. “I don’t know if I’m going to make it to thirty. With all the shit with the Rinaldos, and the targets that keep appearing on my back, I’m going to be dead before you know it.”

She whips her head around to glare at me. “That’s bleak.”

“What else am I supposed to say?” I tip my head back against the edge of the couch, closing my eyes. “It’s reality. My lifespan is likely going to be shorter because of the decisions my family made.”

“Don’t you kind of hate them for that?”

“A little.”

Maybe I’m not angry enough about all of it. There are times when it feels like I should be mad at the world.

Haven moves, lying on the couch so her head is close to mine. “I wish there was a manual that came with this shit.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen, but we can keep dreaming.”

“To dreaming, then.” She reaches for the bottle of wine, taking a sip and then handing it to me.

I take a long pull. “To dreaming.”

I don’t like being alone.

I thought I would when I first moved out. I thought I loved being alone in my apartment, cooking and having a good time, getting to do whatever I want, no pants.

It seemed likethedream at the time, but now it’s more like a nightmare.

After Haven left this morning, I found three new cameras. I destroyed two. Couldn’t quite bring myself to destroy the third one. The one that’s pointed at my bed.

I look directly into the camera as I sit on the edge of the bed. “Is this what you want? You want a show?”

I don’t know if he’s watching right now, but he will be at some point.

I stand up, peeling off the shorts, working them down my legs and kicking them to the side. As I take my time pulling the hem of the shirt up my body, I try to gather my confidence.

I used to have more until I found out the man I was talking to online was my stalker.

Letting out a slow breath, I toss the shirt to the side.

My nipples tighten with the cold breeze rushing through the window.

I run my hands along my curves, still looking into the camera.

“If you want a show, I’ll be happy to give you one.”

I sit back on the edge of the bed, arching my back.

My hands come up to cup my breasts. A breathy moan echoes around the room as I run my thumbs along the stiff peaks, teasing them until they’re aching.

Arousal builds as I get wet, one hand leaving my breasts to trail down my body. I slip my fingers along my slick folds. “Ezra.”

As I swirl a finger around my clit, I pinch my nipple, rocking into my touch, his name falling from my lips again.

I spread my legs wider, showing off my glistening pussy. “Shame you aren’t here right now, isn’t it? You could be touching me. I’d even let you lick my pussy clean.”

He’d be turning my ass red right now if he was here and I said that to him. He wouldn’t let me forget he’s the one calling the shots, pushing me as far as he knows I can go.

But I have power here too. And right now, I’m reminding him of that.

The thought of his hands on my body only makes me hotter.