Page 73 of Unhinged Obsession

Bastard!

If I had an orgasm, it might have been worth all this bullshit. He had an evil grin on his face.

"Stay put. I will be right back."

Please don't tell me he has some other deviant thing planned for me. I'm not up to it right now.

He returned with a washcloth, handed it to me, and sat down like nothing happened.

“Alright, pet, wash your face, then you can get acquainted with your surroundings. Just don’t try anything stupid."

He wagged his finger at me like I was a small child.

"If I didn’t know any better, I would say you are still looking for a way to escape, and that would be a mistake. I promise you can roam wherever you wish once we leave. Nothing but the beautiful Atlantic Ocean will surround you. Think of it as a long vacation."

He smiled as I washed the sticky goo off my face. Again, I was past the humiliation and anger. Everything I felt two minutes ago was an ancient memory. How fucked up is that? I felt like I was on a roller coaster ride these days.

He looked at me while he tugged at his chin.

"The thought of leaving sooner has been going through my head. I know you are getting depressedbeing cooped up all day. I want you to be in top health for what I have planned for us. Fix yourself before our company arrives.”

I jumped up and stood next to him. My feet felt like they couldn’t move. I felt my heart sink when he mentioned I was planning an escape.

How the hell does he know that?

Now, we may leave earlier. I looked at him, trying to read his emotions. It was almost impossible.

He always masked his feelings unless he was doing something disgusting to me. Then, it was a free-for-all. He kept nothing bottled up when he was getting his rocks off.

I kept my voice as steady as possible, not wanting to give away the anxiety I was feeling.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He shifted in his chair, raising a brow at me, nodding.

"Are the police looking for me?”

I could feel a lump form in my throat as the words spilled from my lips. I wasn’t sure if he would get upset by the question, but it was something that nagged me every day since he took me.

I was hoping he would at least tell me the truth. To my surprise, he didn’t seem annoyed by the inquiry. He reached out and began rubbing my thigh.

Shit.

I could feel my body reacting to his touch. Is this evennormal?I wanted to know what the fuck was wrong with me. The man could kill with his bare hands, yet he could also make me wet just with the merest touch.

I didn't like the feelings he stirred in me, but I couldn't help it. The most fucked up part about this whole mess was that he wasn't even an ugly man.

He had to be so fucking damn good-looking, to boot. God either has a dark sense of humor or is just downright cruel. At least if Atlas were ugly, I wouldn't react so quickly to his touch. On the other hand, would I want him to be so unattractive that I would be sick with revulsion?

I pictured him fat and sloppy, with pimples sprouting across his face and a sweaty bald head. My stomach pitched, and I felt a little queasy. I guess I would rather have him the way he is. At least I could enjoy the pleasure he allowed me without wanting to vomit because he looked like a gross, overweight, pimple-infested slob.

He gently squeezed my upper thigh before answering me.

"Yes, the police are looking for you. Your face was plastered all over the news the first week; now, it has somewhat settled down. Your friend Becca reported you missing. Therefore, I can’t allow you to step foot outside of this house at all. Once we leave, you will be free."

I doubted I would be rescued,even if they were looking for me. Atlas was too connected to be held accountable.

I listened closely as he continued to speak.