Buy My Soul (Sixty Days 2)

But I didn’t care.

I didn’t care because there was a part of me burning bright under the sterile steel of a man possessed by nothing but power and pay outs for years on end.

There was a part of me who’d sigh in relief at the knowledge I finally found something worth protecting and set it free to shine bright in this world unscathed.

That part would exist for the rest of my days, a tiny light under swaddles of pure fucking darkness. But that didn’t matter. None of it would ever matter. Just as long as Paige Rowan Emmerson was the same sweet little Paige Rowan Emmerson.

And far, far away from a cunt like me.

I fired off the text message to Jake Wharton before I stood even the slightest hope of returning to my regular senses.Chapter Twenty-SevenPaigeI knew it as I watched him through the bedroom window. I couldn’t deny it for a second at the way he stared up in my direction.

This between us, whatever was truly pulsing right the way through me, was more than some sixty-day bubble I’d ever be able to turn my back on when my time here was through.

It was a heady mix of fascination, desire, lust… need. But it was more than all of those things. It was some crazy closeness way beyond spoken words. It was an affinity of one person’s soul with another’s, despite them being polar opposites on their outlook on life.

Soul.

An affinity.

And that’s when I knew it. For certain. A truth beyond truth.

It was love.

Even the word gave me a shudder up my spine.

Love.

It was the only thing that mattered in this life. It was the only thing worth pushing through the hardships for day after day, throwing yourself on the fire for the sake of another person, no matter what.

And I’d do that. I’d throw myself on fire for this man, day after day, no matter what the consequences. The feelings I had for this creature of darkness, in the darkness, were enough that I’d splay myself on a pyre eternal just to feel the depths of that rawness inside him.

Love wasn’t alien to me. I’d felt the bond with my sister since before I was consciously aware of its power. This love though — this was something else. Something different.

The way he made my body scream for more, even when it was screaming for less. The way his arms meant so much as they held me tight. The way I trusted him in the face of a world I should never be trusting a soul in.

The way he’d saved me.

The way he still was. The way he was saving me every minute of every day by having me in his world.

I pulled away from the window when he went back into the house, my stomach panging fresh with the need to tell him what was really going on inside. What this time with him really meant to me.

But I couldn’t. How could I?

We were a few days into sixty days of utter submission for money. I should be saying nothing but yes, sir and getting on with instructions, not hoping for some kind of happy ever after with a beautiful monster like Brandon Grant.

I forced myself to be some kind of calm through the hours, sitting in bed and staring at the possessions in his personal space, wondering if there was another place in this world that was truly his. If he had a home somewhere. If he had favourite TV shows or a bookshelf stacked with his favourite novels. If he was a sportsman, heading out to some local gym of an evening and pounding a treadmill, or meeting up with sports friends on some football pitch somewhere for a kickaround.

If he liked board games. If he was a chess player. If he’d teach me the ropes and laugh at my idiot efforts while I was finding my feet.

If one day I’d beat him.

The thought made me smile.

I drank plenty of water from the bathroom to keep my hydration levels up for whatever was coming. I said thanks to a random suited guy who let himself in and brought me a fresh plate of pasta. I prepared myself for whatever show was coming my way that evening, in just a few short hours.

And I waited.

I was waiting with a rumble of both excitement and nerves as the sky turned to night and the stars moved their path overhead through the window.

The room was dark when my master finally unlocked the door and stepped inside. I flinched as he got the overhead lights, my eyes sharpening on the leather case he carried along with him.

“Another set of clothes for my dirty little girl,” he told me, but his smile wasn’t the usual sly smirk I’d come to expect from him in dominance. He took a seat on the bed and opened the case. My eyes widened at the sight of his selection.