Page 24 of CurVy Forever
Dexter’s expression shifts to his brother, softening. “Tyler, I’m glad…” He lingers on his sentence. A flash of genuine emotion—pleading, guilt or regret—stirs like a phantom moving through his blue eyes.
Then, his lips become firm to mask his intent. “I have court this morning. New jury.” Then he leaves, but the pain of his unsaid sentiment soars around us.
* * *
After a long day of moving in and being shown parts of the house, I’m emotionally exhausted. And Tyler hasn’t been the same. There is a darkness to him.
The house unsettles him…
And I’m ready to lie down and read a book, escape into the pages. Maybe I can read to him; help him escape, too.
I shower in the adjoining bathroom. The water pressure is heavy, and the temperature is scolding. What else would I expect but extremes and intensity in the Vaughn residence.
I’m leaving the bathroom in my silky night dress and knickers when I see Tyler on his hands and knees.
I freeze.
He is half inside the cage, stuffing it with blankets and pillows. It’s bigger, too. Twice the size that it was before.
How can that be?
I blink at it. “What the hell happened to the cage?”
Tyler looks back at me, his blue eyes crystal clear and swirling with contentment; I haven’t seen him look so comfortable since before Donnie left.
“It folds out. There are two bases on top of each other, so you just, sorta…. slide it out. Then, the bars are further apart, and the cage is twice the size as when it’s portable. And I don’t want to sleep alone.”
“What?” I shake my head. No fucking way. “Sleep on the bed with me. Not in there, Tyler.”
“Not just me. Look...” His words trail to silent excitement as he crawls inside and curls on his side. His feet stick out, and he looks ridiculous but undeniably Tyler. “You can fit right here, in the curve of my body.”
Holy shit...
He must be kidding.
CHAPTER 11
DONNIE
My heart beats faster.
Cautious not to wake the house staff, I move carefully around the halls that I know all too well. Like the back of my hand, the saying goes.
I inhale my cigarette, the ember flaring in the dark like a devilish eye. I don’t have long and can’t be seen because I don’t trust Dexter to not be drunk and throw me to the police for a plea bargain of his own.
I wish I trusted him…
Though, if he’s awake, he’ll see me on the cameras, I am almost certain. Anticipation and impatience spur my steps forwards. My cock throbs to my heartbeat.
The dark amplifies the slightest noise: the paper sizzling at the ember with each inhale, my steady gait, and the curtains in each room caressing furniture.
Moving with stealth and purpose, I navigate my way through the shadowy labyrinth of halls and passages until I enter my old bedroom.
I drop the cigarette and smash it with my boot, leaving evidence I don’t care to hide.
My senses are heightened, and the scent of fresh polish and roses lingers in the air. Dexter has had the house cleaned for her. I frown, thinking that’s odd.
The only light comes from the moon as it cuts under the swaying curtain. The lightness and darkness move like an eerie visitor in an otherwise private scene.