There’s a long pause as she searches for a response that she thinks will tame my beast. “Of course, if that’s what you’d like.” She’s trying to hold on to her patience but her voice is strained from not yelling at me.

“What I’d like from you isn’t something I can say out loud,” I reply tersely. I throw the piece of paper in the trash. With my head down, I make my way to the door. I hear her slide out of the way, but she’s not fast enough and my shoulder brushes against her soft body. The brief contact snaps the reins of my self-control. I snatch her wrist and spin around so that her face is against the bookcases and my thick, hard cock is shoved against her frame.

“Stay away from me. Don’t make me food, don’t open the drapes, don’t talk to me, and never, ever look at me. If you do any of these things I am going to assume that you want me to fuck your brains out.” I release her and stalk away.

10

Summer

I flip off the light next to Colby’s bed, giving Beast a little pet before I slip from his bedroom. We’ve moved to the new wing of the house which, like the rest of the house, is breathtaking. I think Colby’s new room is bigger than our entire old house. I leave his bedroom door cracked so some light will flood into the room in case he wakes up in the middle of the night for some reason. He’s getting used to the house still. I think he knows his way around better than I do at this point.

I fall back onto my bed. My body is tired, but my mind isn't. I can’t get the encounter out of my head that I had with Mr. Schulz. Kale. I sit back up, opening my nightstand drawer where I put the crumbled piece of paper that he so easily tossed out. Even in the condition it’s in, after doing some digging on Kale Schulz, I think you could get thousands of dollars for it because it was created from his hand. Ones that sculpt and create the most breathtaking pieces I’ve ever seen.

Not that I would sell it. It feels personal not only to him but to me too. For a man that wants me to stay away from him, he seems to know every detail of my face. From the freckles that sprinkle across my nose to the tiny scar on my forehead that I got from running into a tree branch when I was little. I even forget it’s there, it's so small. There’s also that one dimple that appears in my left check. The level of detail this small drawing entails brings me to one conclusion: he’s been watching me. How else could he draw me so perfectly?

My eyes aren’t focused on the beautiful drawing of myself, but of him lying by me. I run my finger across his face. The reason he hides from everyone is so much clearer now. The light doesn't hurt him. Not physically at least. This is why you hide? Why you’re such an asshole? Even to himself, it seems.

He locks himself away. I lick my lips as I study the drawing for the millionth time. I can’t miss the look of pure bliss on the man's face as I merely play with his hair. Playing with his hair isn't the only thing he wants from me. I tuck the piece of paper back away for safekeeping before I get ready for bed.

His words should have pissed me off. He pressed himself against me, letting me know what he really wanted: To fuck me. I felt his need. I don’t think anyone has ever spoken so rudely and bluntly to me before. Something deep inside of me that I didn't know was there sparkled when those words hit me, and I found I wanted more. His large body molded perfectly against mine. The deep growl to his voice made me wet between my thighs.

When it comes to him, getting more attention is going to be a problem. Especially when the person you want it from is nowhere to be found. That happened over a week ago and I haven't heard another peep from him. I’ve even started trying to poke at him. I went back to leaving him food. I stopped myself a few times from opening the drapes because I wasn't sure if maybe it really did hurt his scars, so I left that one alone.

I haven’t stopped talking to him, though. Each chance I get I allow myself to speak my thoughts out loud. Sometimes I even ask him questions even though I know he won’t answer. I’m pretty sure the main living areas of the home are wired for not only video but audio too. I wasn't completely sure, but I talked anyway. All the time. If I’m not talking, I’m singing. Another small thing that has been giving me a weird thrill. Thinking about him watching me.

It was strange at first. For so long I took care of myself. No one else ever watched out for me. I’m not so sure he’s watching out for me but he’s watching. And I don’t want him to stop.

I sigh, flipping off the bathroom light. I break the rules, but still he doesn't say anything. I look down at my forearm at the rash his stupid uniform has left on my skin. I should start breaking those rules too. Why do I need to wear a stupid uniform? There isn't a guest or anyone else here but us. Then it hits me. It hides my body.

I glance down at my cream sleep dress that has red roses along the hem. It’s my favorite but a touch small. I should have thrown it out a year ago, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Money has been tight and I really can’t afford to get a new one. Don’t do it, Summer, I tell myself. But as I think the words I’m already heading out the door.

I could use a snack. Maybe I could stop by the library and get a new book to read. Not that I don’t already have a stack in my room calling my name. Can one more book really hurt anything? When I make my way to the library something hums inside of me. It’s ridiculous. My nipples tighten as my desire starts to rise. The same as it did when he’d pressed himself against me in the library.

If I keep the lights off maybe he’ll come out. I’ll need some kind of light though. I pass the library, heading for the kitchen to grab matches to light a candle. I freeze, my hand stopping on the light switch to the kitchen when I see a figure standing at the fridge holding the dinner I made and left for him. Does he do the same thing every night? Look at what I made him but never eat it? Torturing himself? I shouldn't care. He’s a jerk. But I do.

He shoves it back into the fridge, slamming the door shut so hard the giant refrigerator shakes. “You should be in bed,” he growls. I can only make out the outline of him now that kitchen has fallen into darkness once again. “I told you to stop cooking for me.” He turns around to face me. I can’t make out anything, my eyes still not adjusting to the darkness. “Is it because you want me to fuck you? Is that what you’re asking for?”

Good question. Because I’m not even sure of the answer. Is that what I am asking for? To be fucked? I lick my suddenly dry lips, knowing I’m in over my head. Then again, when am I ever not that way? It is the story of my life. So I go with the truth.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been fucked.”

11

Kale

Her admission rocks me. She’s untouched? A woman that looks like her? Seems impossible. She’s baiting me, but what would she gain but my dick in her virginal pussy? Does she have some sick fetish that she wants fulfilled? Some game she likes playing? A Beauty and the Beast fantasy where she is devoured against her will by an animal? Imagine walking around my house wearing that sheer floral getup and expecting me to do nothing.

I’m tempted to turn the light on, open the refrigerator door, or shine a flashlight in my face so she can really see what she’s asking for. I gather up the pieces of the last of my decency and say, “Your inexperience is making you say foolish things.”