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Leonid took me like a savage beast. He pierced my cherry, and then he tasted the blood.
It was so fucking hot.
But my skin is still sticky from the encounter, and I realize I haven’t bathed in at least a day. There was no time to last night, of course. I had reading to catch up on.
Still, as I step towards the shower, something holds me back. It doesn’t take long to figure out what that is.
There’s an intoxicating scent about me. It envelops my body like a warm blanket.
An earthy tone, mixed with the perfume of old books. Together, they form the most spine-tingling aroma I’ve ever experienced.
The long t-shirt that I’m wearing smells like Leonid. It smells like his body. The same body that engulfed me yesterday.
Wait. Was it yesterday? Or is this part of the same night?
It’s impossible to tell. There are no clocks or windows in this room.
How long have I been confined this time?
Before he left, Leonid said he wouldn’t be long. I knew better. Still, when we were in the kitchen, I saw the sun set through a beautiful French window.
New York.
It was almost prettier than I could have imagined.
… If only it weren’t so hostile towards me.
The beautiful view didn’t last long. His phone rang and when he returned from answering it, we went to the basement, where I was allowed to fetch my books.
He helped me carry some of them up here, but then he left—not that I minded all that much. All I could think about was reading. And that’s what I did. For hours.
Obviously, I fell asleep sometime during that binge-session. But for how long?
My best guess is that it’s sometime in the afternoon the next day. But then why haven’t I been brought any food? And where is Leonid?
Despite my protests, I can’t help but long for him.
It must be some form of Stockholm syndrome. One day of mind-blowing sex, mixed in with a few kind gestures, shouldn’t be enough to change my mind on the man who murdered my father and made me his captive.
Yet I can’t seem to force myself any closer towards the shower. All because I don’t want to wash away his scent.
And I fucking love showers.
Don’t be a stupid girl! Something inside of me shouts. No one should be able to control you like this, let alone someone like Leonid Barinov. He said he’d be right back. He lied. Take this as an opportunity to break the spell he’s cast over you. Wash away his scent.
Maybe that voice is right.
I mean, where is hell is Leonid, anyway?
I can’t help but wonder. In reality, I know he’s probably out dealing with the consequences of what happened at the library. But that same harsh voice shouting for me to take a shower also holds a different opinion of where my captor could be.
Your pussy wasn’t good enough for him. He’s out fucking a more experienced woman. Right now, the two are lying in bed, laughing about how you begged him to fuck you harder.
The thought hurts more than I would have feared… even if I don’t believe it for a second.
Leonid tasted my blood. It wasn’t some sick twisted game. He wanted to show me that we were even.
… Or maybe he just had a concussion.
