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“Evil men always want to justify what they do,” she says. “And it’s not by telling you all their reasons. No . . . they want to push you, and bend you, and break you until you snap. Until you do something you thought you’d never do. Until you can’t even recognize yourself. Until you’re as bad as they are. That’s how they justify themselves . . . by trying to make you the same as them.”
Instead, a freshly hung painting awaits my view. Abstract, with large streaks of violet, scarlet, and sienna . . . She fucked on that painting, and then she hung it on my wall. I’m struck anew by the absolute insanity of this girl. I admire her audacity. While planning how I’ll punish her for it.
“It’s not that bad. Besides, it doesn’t matter what I wear, I’m never gonna look like you in that jumpsuit . . .” Erin grins. “When god handed out tits, I got in line three times.” I laugh. “Apparently I slept in and missed the whole thing.”
I gasp as the cool air hits my bare pussy. I want to shriek, I want to squirm, but I refuse do it. Cole is a predator. If I show the slightest hint of fear, it will ignite his instinct to hunt.
