Page 36 of The Good Girl Effect

In fact, you’ll beg for it.

You’ll beg for my cock in your sweet, dripping little cunt.

If this letter scares you—good. It’s meant to.

I am not a kind or gentle man, Camille. And I’m no fucking teacher.

I want you to fully understand what you ask of me because there is no chance of us going down this road with any part of it remaining innocent or appropriate.

So tell me. Are you still curious?

My hands are trembling as I hold the paper. Blood heats my body like lava as I read the filthy words again and again and again, gasping each time I imagine exactly what he would do to me.

Out of everything I expected him to reply, this was definitely not it.

Gauging my reactions, I try to determine exactly how I feel about it.

I know how Ishouldfeel. Alarmed. Disgusted. Terrified.

But in truth, I’m none of those things. In fact, I’ve never felt more excited.

He said he wanted his letter to scare me, but it doesn’t. He thinks I’ll be turned off by his perverted words, but I’m not.

Tiny footsteps steal my attention, so I shove the letter into the drawer of the desk and quickly compose myself, ready to face the little girl who needs my attention.

Coming out of the bedroom, I find Bea standing in the hallway, still in her pink satin pajamas and her hair a mess.

“J’ai faim,” she mumbles sleepily as she rubs her eyes.

“What would you like for breakfast?” I reply, forcing a smile.

She shrugs as she shuffles into the kitchen. Quickly donning my apron and cleaning up, I begin to make breakfast for Bea and myself. She colors quietly in her sketchbook while I work, and I worry that she can sense my discomfort.

I don’t feel as calm and comfortable as I normally do. In fact, I dread this entire day. It’s Saturday, which means I have to entertain her all day while her father sleeps upstairs. We won’t have a single moment to discuss whatever this is.

And we won’t have a single moment to do any of those provocative things he spelled out in his letter.

Get it together, Camille.

I’m not here to screw Jack St. Claire in my free time. I’m here to take care of this precious little girl without a mother. I’m here to help this family.

After serving Bea her breakfast, I sit down across from her and pick at mine. My stomach is too knotted to eat.

My gaze flicks to the stairwell every few minutes, wondering if he is going to come down at any point today. What on earth would I do if he did? Just act normal? Act like he didn’t explicitly spell out how he would do deplorable and enticing things to me?

I don’t know if I can do that.

After breakfast, Bea goes to her room to play. I set out her dress and tights for the day and help her to get cleaned up. Everything feels like going through the motions. I’m just passing the time.

Once she’s settled, I pat her on the head delicately. “I just need to get dressed. Then we can go to the park.”

“Okay,” she chirps excitedly. She’s quietly playing with her dolls as I slip out of her room and down to my own.

Once I’m hidden behind the door, I rush to the desk to read the letter again. My fingers graze my lips as I devour every word once more. I can’t help but imagine him doing all these things to me in elaborate detail. I’ve never felt more turned on in my life.

Finally, I sit in the seat and pull out a new, blank notepad. Just like last night, I tell him everything straight from the heart.

Dear Jack,