When I wake up, it’s to an empty bed. That's not shocking; it's been that way for the last five days. I huff a breath, my frustration getting the better of me. Why am I even annoyed? It should make me happy that the big, old sexy jerk isn’t around. The man I met that first night was so different from the one who kidnapped me.
The only time Callahan seems to be around is in the middle of the night. It’s not like he tries to even talk to me. I usually wake up to him sliding my panties down my legs to make a feast of me. No words are ever exchanged. I can still sense an anger and a coldness to him, as if he’s fighting some sort of inner battle and losing. Regardless, each night he comes to give me pleasure, never taking anything for himself.
Once he’s exhausted me with orgasms, I usually dr
