Unless I take her submission to a higher level, and let her live with me and keep her entirely secluded from everyone. Never let her meet my friends or family. Or maybe just let her meet Lukas and Ivy but make them keep their mouths shut about the band and the accident. I would hide her from my public persona and not subject her to the slutty fans, the prying eyes, the photographers and the rumors. She might actually like that since she acts as if she wants nothing to do with the outside world. She hasn’t mentioned any friends or family that she wants to talk to. I don’t think she has any interest in going back to work or living in that house she shared with her husband.
That could work. She would have to go willingly, of course. I could sell my house and buy a new one for us, something she likes and that has a lot of theme rooms for us to play in.
The thought of selling my house has crossed my mind several times to escape the memories of living there with Katie. The constant pain of that will continue to eat me alive. I could keep Tabi and give her everything she wants and needs, and have her safe and content. I would cherish her like the little doll that she is and she would never want to leave. I could see those big eyes staring up at me every single day, hear her orgasmic screams of pleasure, let her dig her nails into me when I allow her to touch me. We could explore so much of each other. She could be totally mine and I wouldn’t mind being totally hers. At all. My heart pounds against my ribs and my cock grows harder the more I think of how amazing life could be with her. She could make my fantasy a reality.
I’ve basically just devised a plan to keep this woman as a pet.
I’m a sick fuck.
***
As I walk through the garage door into the kitchen I’m greeted by her bouncing over to me, a big smile on her face, clapping her hands.
“You’re just in time. Dinner is ready. And I didn’t ruin it!”
Her giddy excitement over non-ruined dinner is cute but also serves as a warning for meals to come. Too bad I can’t get her into a cooking boot camp with Gram.
I kick off my boots and throw them onto the shoe mat by the door. “Is this a new accomplishment for you?” I ask, grinning.
“It is. Nick worked a lot and always came home at odd hours so we kinda lived on frozen dinners most of the time because they were quick and easy to make without any planning.”
“Trust me, I’ve eaten my fair share of frozen pizzas and fast food drive-throughs, but I’d much prefer a real meal whenever possible.”
“You better order some cookbooks then, or else I’ll be making you grilled cheese and soup every day.”
“Is that what I’m eating tonight?”
“No! There was a big package of ground beef in the fridge, some eggs, and bread. And I found all your spices, so I made a meatloaf. I cut up some potatoes and made mash with a little bit of sour cream.”
Smiling at her and with a look of suspicion, I peer into the oven expecting to see a misshapen mass of meat, but it looks perfect.
“I’m impressed, doll. It even smells good. I’m gonna go wash the road off me—why don’t you set the table? I’ll be back in ten.” Realizing I’m still holding the bag of things I bought for her, I hand it over. “These are for you.”
“Oh my charger? Thank you! My phone finally died last night. I’m going to have to call my mother and best friend to let them know where I am.” She goes to the oven and checks on the meatloaf. “I’ll do that after dinner … I don’t want to hear all the lecturing right now.”
I’m a little worried about how those conversations will go and how she’s going to react to them. Is she the type to cave if someone else gets on her shit about something she’s doing? What the hell would she tell them about me? Or, maybe she won’t mention me at all and will lie about her whereabouts.
After a quick shower, I find her at the table, holding the little angel statue with a faraway, almost sad, reflective look on her face.