Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
I didn’t even have to see her for this to happen to me. I just had to think of Anastasia, about how she smelled like wisteria, of how her long hair felt like silk between my fingers. I thought about how she looked when she slept, so peaceful, angelic, and so fucking beautiful that it was the only damn thing that could make my heart race for things other than killing.
My cock grew harder, a steel rod that throbbed at the thought of how perfect she was, how good she felt in my arms.
I kept to the shadows as I moved down the street, crossing the alley that was catty-corner to her building, before making my way over to a side door. I kept my focus on the piss stain of a guard, curling my lip in disgust. It would be so easy to just kill the asshole.
I should bitch slap Vladimir for putting such a worthless bastard in charge of the most precious thing.
I easily broke the bum lock that “secured” the door, one that needed fixing, but then again it allowed easy access to the one thing I wanted the most.
I was stealthy as I made my way up the stairs, the apartment building silent for this time of night. And then I was on her floor, standing at her door. Picking the lock was easy. Once in her apartment, I shut the door silently and locked it, standing there for a moment.
I could hear the shower running, and saw the light coming through the crack of her partially opened bedroom door. I moved around a small leather loveseat that sat in the living room, my boots not making a sound as I walked over the plush rug.
Her house smelled like lavender and lemon as I walked back past the kitchen and through the tiny hallway that led to her bedroom. I stood on the other side of her door, one hand braced on the frame, hearing her softly hum through the rush of water.
I slipped into her bedroom and just stood there a moment, inhaling the scent of her. She had a couple of clothes tossed behind a chair, and there was a book overturned on the small table by the window. Countless times I’d stood across the street just watching her sit in that chair and read that book.
I turned my attention to her bed that was made but slightly rumpled as if she’d lain down for a moment.
I walked over to the small vanity at the opposite end of where her bed was and ran my fingers over a small vial of perfume before picking it up. I opened the top and brought it to my nose, inhaling deeply, getting turned on at how good that smelled. There was nothing that smelled sweeter than my girl.
I softly groaned and closed up the perfume before slipping it into the pocket of my jacket. Maybe I should have felt shame for taking her shit, trinkets, little treasures that I kept like fucking trophies.
But I didn’t feel any guilt. It felt good to take them, because then I had a little part of her with me at all times.
I’d stolen a lot of things over the years, taking things from her apartment every time I broke in, things that would remind me of her when I was alone in the darkness.
A brush. A bottle of her shampoo. A fucking pair of panties I used to wrap around my cock as I jerked off. I was a deplorable bastard.
I walked over to the bathroom door and stood on the other side, hands braced on the frame as I leaned in. Steam came through the crack, warm heat that brought with it the scent of her.
I imagined all the soapy bubbles sliding down her body as she washed herself.
The shower cut off but I didn’t move right away. I just stood there and listened to her push the shower curtain aside, and heard the soft whoosh of a towel being pulled off the rack.
I couldn’t see into the bathroom, but I wouldn’t have tried to anyway. I might’ve been a heartless bastard who did questionable, deplorable things, a man who killed without remorse, would maim to protect the one and only thing I held dear, but fuck, I wasn’t a degenerate fucking pervert.
Jerking off in her panties notwithstanding.
I could see her shadow move past the crack in the door and stepped to the side, making sure she couldn’t see me. For a second I just closed my eyes, wanting to push the door open and pull her into my arms, to tell her she was mine, that she had been for all these years.
I moved away from the door and went over to the closet, slipping inside, keeping to the shadows and partially hidden behind her hanging clothes. A moment later she exited the bathroom, her hair wrapped up in a towel, her body covered in an oversized T-shirt.