𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐑 ✓ | 18+

Chapter Thirty-Three

Isabella

The Next Morning
Monday, March 18

Waking up alone was a rare relief, but it was fleeting. The bed beside me was cold and empty, signaling Oliver had been up for a while. Driven by a sudden urgency to shed anything that smelled of him, I bolted out of bed. I stormed into his oversized closet, rifling through the hanging garments, desperate to find something to change into after I scrubbed his scent off my skin.

With a few selected pieces of his clothing, I headed straight to the bathroom. Placing the clothes on the counter, I twisted the shower knobs, the hiss of the water promising a temporary sanctuary. As soon as the temperature was right, I stepped in, letting the hot streams attempt to wash away the lingering unease. I scrubbed my skin raw, trying to erase the traces of last night, the redness blooming across my flesh a testament to my desperation.

Once dressed in his oversized shirt and sweatpants, I hadn't put on a bra or panties because I had no idea where they were. Sicko must have hidden them somewhere, the fabric of his clothes was hanging loose and unfamiliar on my frame, so I ventured out from the bedroom. The apartment unfolded more expansively than I had initially realized. It was vast, with hallways that led to unknown spaces I hadn't explored. Today, curiosity propelled my steps, and the distant sound of loud rock music drew me closer to one of the many closed doors.

I heard the lyrics of the song he was playing, the words filling the room with their rawness:

'I miss the way you say my name'

'The way you bend, the way you break'

'Your makeup running down your face'

'The way you fuck, the way you taste'

I almost laughed at the absurdity and nastiness of the lyrics. They seemed so out of place.

Peeking through a slight opening, I saw Oliver immersed in his workout. A personal gym—how lavish. His body moved rhythmically with each push-up, muscles flexing in a show of disciplined strength. I caught myself staring, lost for a moment in the display of physical prowess.

He must have felt my gaze because after completing a set, he abruptly stood and walked over to silence the music. Panic flared within me. Caught spying, I spun on my heel and dashed down the hall, but I wasn't quick enough. Before I could reach the safety of the bedroom, strong arms encircled my waist, spinning me around to face him. His hands moved up to caress my cheek, an oddly gentle gesture that didn't match the intensity in his eyes. "Spying on me?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.

"Uhh... no," I stammered, avoiding his penetrating gaze.

"Such a terrible liar," he chuckled, tightening his grip as I tried to wriggle free. A sharp smack landed on my ass, the sting of it shocking more than hurting, drawing a pained moan from my lips. "Ow!" I exclaimed, the burn setting in.

"Next time you try to break free from me, I promise you it will be ten times worse," he warned, a sinister grin spreading across his face.

"Fuck you," I spat out, anger flaring up within me.

"Shall I?" he challenged, his tone mocking, I could feel my clit throbbing with need, and I tried to suppress the urge by rubbing my thighs together. "Oliver, let me go," I stammered, panic rising as my body seemed to betray me.