Visiting Hours: Part 2

“Me? Hurt you?” Greg sat down comfortably on the chair. He leaned back and placed both his arms on the armrests like an eagle with its wings spread out. Big and dangerous. “Isn’t this a nice place for a chair? A good view of the bedroom, the bed. Has anyone sat here and watched, Carisa? Have you? Do you like to watch? Or do you like being watched?”

Carrie’s throat was dry. The way he said her name was enchanting. A siren song. And now Carrie was scared but also keyed up. “I’d like some water, please.” She needed something—anything.

“You want me to get it for you?”

“Yes, please.”

“And bring it over there? Right beside you where I can easily reach you? Touch you?” His grin was charged with electricity. Carrie tried to look away but she was held hostage by his gaze. “You always struck me as a woman who likes to do it herself, so it makes me wonder what’s keeping you under that sheet. Something you don’t want me to see?”

“I’m wearing a nightgown,” Carrie said, squirming as she said it. The movement exposed bare back for a second, but long enough for the air to kiss her skin. She gritted her teeth. 

All her senses were at high alert. Even the subtlest movements made the satin sheets rub against her nipples. Her tight and sensitive nipples.

Greg sat on his throne, amused by whatever he was seeing. He was all sex, all fucking. His presence was the heat from a furnace, wrapping Carrie in an embrace, but not safe. Greg was a predator ready to pounce.

“When I get up from this chair, I’m going to come over and I’m going to do something,” Greg announced.

“What are you going to do?” Carrie’s voice shook.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Answering a question with a question is impolite.”

Greg’s grin grew. “Good thing I’m not trying to be polite. Not answering a question is worse. You didn’t tell me whether you like to watch or be watched.”

Carrie clamped her mouth shut.

“It’s okay, we can talk about it next time.” 

“There won’t be any next time,” she warned. Her jaw was starting to hurt. So were other specific spots in her body. 

This was too much, too quick, and too new. Dampness seeped through her sheets, she didn’t have to look to know. Her wolf screamed inside of her.

“Isn’t that unfortunate?” Greg mused. “Luckily, you don’t get to decide here.”

“I can. This is my house.”

“What a big, sad house you have. You enjoy your isolation, don’t you? Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy other things more. Shall I get up now?”

“No.”

“Oh, Chief Carisa Carson, always so in control.” Greg prolonged the words, affecting empathy that sounded too empty. He nodded to the nightstand. “You could call the cops. I’m sure they wouldn’t take long. I won’t get up until you want me to. Let’s see who comes first.”

“You don’t know what I want.”

“When you sleep naked in a bed, you want someone to be in it with you. Besides, between the two of us, it’s my wants that take priority. And what I want is you.”

Carrie buzzed inside. She squeezed her legs together in a futile attempt to stop the slick from forming a puddle on her bed. 

Leaning in, Greg’s nose flared. He knew she was naked, he didn’t have to look. Her smell combined with his was a perfect swirl in the air. 

It felt like the sheets she covered herself with weren’t even there. “I’m not naked.”

“Shall we find out?”

“I’ll scream.”

“Hmm, I preferred you moan.”

A whimper escaped her that very moment. Carrie bit her lip to muffle the sound. Greg was watching her closely, his whole body attuned to her every movement, every sound she made, and every smell she exuded.

This wasn’t right. Her whole body ached to be touched, but this wasn’t right. Carrie had to reclaim herself just like how she bounced back from the most traumatic time of her life.