Page 115 of Devious Obsession
Bruised.
He helps me stand, then walks me to the bathroom. The hallway is dark, the rest of the house relatively quiet. There’s still music playing downstairs, and a light coming from the bottom of the staircase. No one’s up here, though, it would appear.
I don’t even know what time it is. Just that it’s dark out.
For a second, I’m delusional enough to think that he’s going to let me use it alone. Instead, he follows me in and flips the lock behind himself, sitting on the edge of the tub. He watches me closely.
“I have to pee,” I say.
He shrugs. “Go on, then.”
“Can you look away?”
“No.”
I glare at him.
He glares back.
But the urge in my bladder is more pressing than anything else, so I sigh and sit carefully on the toilet. I focus on my knees, waiting for my muscles to unclench long enough to go. It’s weird, with him in the bathroom like my own personal… prison guard.
That’s not normal, right?
And then my body cooperates. I close my eyes until I’m done.
It’s only then that I feel something odd between my legs.
Not like,inme, but…
I stand and lean over to examine myself. There’s a bandage taped just above my pussy. Over my pubic bone, which felt like it was burning earlier. I stare at it, then glance at Steele. He’s watching me with an intensity that makes my stomach flip.
“What did you do?” My voice is shaky. Raspier than usual.
I peel away the tape carefully, lifting the bandage.
Dark lettering sits on my skin.
In my skin.
I swipe at it and let out a hiss of pain. The skin is sensitive, red around the letters, even with the oily substance coating it. I look over at him again. I need my phone. My brain isn’t working, isn’t computing what the letters mean upside down.
“Tell me this is some sort of elaborate prank,” I whisper.
He shrugs. “If it’ll help you sleep at night.”
“Steele.”
“Aspen.”
“I—you—”
He rises and turns me around, facing the sink. I stare at our faces in the mirror, even as he tips me forward and dunks my hands under the warming water. He squirts soap into my palm, then guides my hands together. It suds, and his fingers move between mine. Guiding my movements.
He rinses both of our hands, and then he manually turns me around again. He kneels, even with my hips. He lifts the bandage back up and pats the tape into place.
“Keep it covered,” he orders. “For at least twenty-four hours. Then clean it with an unscented soap and water. No scrubbing. Aquaphor or unscented lotion to keep it hydrated after that.”
Tattoo care instructions.
