Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Physically, I could easily fall asleep beside her. The IV drugs ensured she’d stay sedated all damn night, but mentally, I found it impossible the very first night I brought her back here. Nearness made me want things I had to wait for. The distance is the only thing that kept me from punishing her long before she woke up.
I turn on the taps, making sure that the water is warmer than what would be comfortable for her. Each action of mine has purpose, and the thought of her skin turning pink from the heat makes me hard.
“I need to piss, and before you tell me to just do it in the bed, keep your fucking mouth closed.”
“That’s a lot of spitfire coming from such a weak person,” I tell her as I untie her legs.
She proves my point by trying to kick out at me and is barely able to lift her leg. After removing her IV, her arms are next, but they fall to the bed. She does manage to wring her fingers around the sore spots she created on her skin.
“You’re a dick,” she spits when I help her sit up.
She’s been inactive for two weeks now, and it’s astonishing how fast the body loses its ability to function after short periods of no movement.
“I’m being nice,” I say as I make sure to keep all parts of me away from her mouth. I wouldn’t put it past her to take a chunk out of me.
“Nice.” She scoffs. “What the fuck are you doing?”
I don’t answer her rhetorical question as I continue to tie her arms behind her back.
“You said you needed to piss.”
I walk her slowly across the room instead of carrying her. At some point in the near future, I’m going to need this woman to fight back, and I’m not doing either of us any favors by coddling her.
“You’re fucking kidding, right?” She glares at me as I sit her down on the toilet.
Silently, I stare at her, standing my ground.
Stubbornly, and very true to her character, she just glares back.
It isn’t until I step away to turn off the water in the tub that the sound of urine hitting the inside of the bowl can be heard.
Of all the things this woman has experienced and suffered through and she gets shy about peeing?
“What now?” she snaps.
With the water off, steam billowing up from it, I turn back to give her all of my attention.
I eye the toilet paper before looking back at her face.
“Untie me,” she growls.
“Kick me and instead of bathing you in that tub, I’ll fucking drown you,” I warn as I step forward.
“Don’t touch me,” she hisses as I grab some tissue and bend lower.
I know how she feels. She probably sees me cleaning her up after using the restroom as more degrading than anything I’ve ever done to her, so I take my time.
“You know how many times I’ve washed this cunt over the last ten days?”
Her chin trembles as I push her legs farther apart. I watch her face the entire time as I wipe, celebrating the tears welling in her eyes as she points her face toward the ceiling.
“I gave you antibiotics,” I tell her as I stand.
Her eyes find mine then, and there’s something about the gratitude in her eyes that hits me differently.
“Thank you,” she whispers, and I know that was so fucking hard for her to say.
I’m a very good judge of character, and I can easily tell she means it. I’m sure part of her aftercare while with the FBI included all sorts of medical checkups and testing.
Instead of focusing on how she’s able to control my emotions with her gratitude, I decide to keep as much footing with her as possible.
“Your period lasted four days, so it seems you aren’t pregnant either.”
Her eyes narrow. She knows the game. She knows exactly what I’m doing.
“Was never a worry,” she says as I lift her to standing from the toilet. “I have a birth control implant in my arm. Plus, I’m pretty sure they used condoms. Sick fucks for thinking we’re the ones with diseases when they’re the ones abducting and raping women.”
Three bullets each weren’t enough for those pieces of shit, but I don’t tell her that. It honestly makes me hate her just a little more because she’s bringing back pieces of me that I was proud of before we met in El Salvador. Those were the things that made me weak, looking out for others instead of only being concerned for myself.
“I can bathe myself if you just untie me,” she says as I walk her toward the tub.
“Good to know,” I say, lifting her over the edge without making a move to remove her restraints.
She hisses as she sinks into the water, but she doesn’t complain.