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The reason I had to be here, getting pleasure from my hand as I stared up to the bedroom window, my mind’s eye creating an image of the pretty redhead out of her clothes. The same image that lived in my head since I first saw her 12 weeks ago. It was no secret things had changed, and a new obsession had formed, demanding the time I once used to eat something instant and easy to ease the rumbling in my stomach. Weight had dropped off me, which altered my image and fueled tabloid rumors of drug use that spread like wildfire, ignited by a certain wannabe girlfriend who needed to keep herself current now that she was no longer on my arm.
Fuck, I hated her. And I hated the press for the extra attention, when all I wanted to do was drop off the grid for a few weeks and find my missed bid, pay the difference, and have my fun.
Daniel had warned me that I couldn’t bring her home. It would attract unwanted attention. But I could see her. Fuck her, and get the need for her out of my system…if he knew nothing about it.
Maybe that would be enough.
My hand certainly wasn’t doing the fucking job. But I already knew that wouldn’t work. I’d fucked my palm too many times while thinking of her.
It made me angry, withdrawn, and even more dependent on things that were bad for me.
I tucked myself back in, feeling every fucking frustration as Cedric—her new perverted master—appeared in her window.
I’d learned a lot about him, starting with his name. I learned he was a single man, pushing sixty, and he wanted companionship with someone so far out of his league. I was shocked he even had the gall to bring her here and let her see him in the sun-damaged flesh. I’d also learned he had no more than four inches between his legs, each one undoubtedly hard as he followed behind her in the dim lights of his house. The minimal clothing she wore, barely long enough to cover the roundness of her perfect ass, was so enticing.
My controlled breathing had been such a fucking struggle, each breath coming fast and hard as I moved around the house’s wooden structure, fogging every dirty window as I watched them earlier tonight.
I couldn’t blame this pathetic creep for wanting to put those four inches inside her, but I’d rip them from his body if he succeeded.
Her pussy was mine, and I couldn’t say why I wanted it so fucking bad.
But I did. I wanted to be her first.
Something pulled me to the house, the door unlocked, ready for me. I trod the staircase, each slat creaking. I froze, waiting for someone to come and find me trespassing.
But no one did.
The dark hallway called me up, tempting me to investigate things that would quickly bore me while I waited for Cedric to leave Cat’s room.
A hearing aid helped me to decipher their conversation, the words all so innocent, beyond the bedroom door.
On my way through the hallway, I popped a pill into my mouth and then another. A deep swallow meant they didn’t get lodged in the back of my throat. I shook, my hands, body, and legs, having gone too long between these pills and my last. The joint I’d dumped in that poor excuse of a forest wasn’t strong enough for me.
They never fucking were.
My fingers dove into my pocket, feeling my phone vibrate against my leg.
I ignored it.
I placed one more thing on my tongue, a rice-paper treat that dissolved quickly, diminishing the cartoon duck that would entice young children to try one.
Opening another door, I entered Cedric’s space. Pictures of redheads surrounded me, all with similar features to each other and to the 50s pinup he had plastered on his dirty ceiling.
One picture in particular stood out to me—a Polaroid that looked to have been taken at my show, no doubt by Daniel.
Cat—smiling, with her tongue out, having the best night of her life, well, she was, until a few hours later.
A loud thump echoed from the vacant hall, pulling me back into the darkness where I dwelled until the house was quiet around an hour later.
My phone rang again, the vibration distracting me from Cedric’s snoring as I crept from his closet. My finger stabbed the screen, assuming it was Sen because she called me fucking constantly, and my agitated tone barreled down the line as I stepped out of the room, confident I wouldn’t wake the heavy sleeper.
“Whatever it is. Fuck off. I’m not interested.”
“Where are you?” said a voice, thick and French.
“Rubbichon?”
“Not too high to recognize me then?”
