Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
“Please. I’ll do anything you want. I’m begging you.”
If I were a lesser man, I could think of a few depraved tests I could put him through, but truth be told, Henry Shaw means so little to me that I don’t want to waste my time dealing with him.
CHAPTER 13
Heath
Her room is the same as it was the day I left Wainscott Hollow. The same as the last time I laid in her bed and stroked her hair, inhaled her scent as we dreamed of our future together. In here, it’s as if the years haven’t passed at all. Time hasn’t moved, and nothing but the changing tides and the winds, and the rise and fall of seasons, indicates we’ve moved forward. Her room is the same, but all of us, we’re unrecognizable from the three Shaw siblings who graduated from Fairmont and ran through the great halls of Wainscott Hollow under the watchful eye of their father.
Kat’s old clothes from high school still lie tucked away in her drawers. I lift out a yellow sweater, an old favorite because of the way it contrasted her eyes and made them look even bluer.
I inhale her scent, and my knees almost buckle at the onslaught of memories that besiege me. The entire manor is in disarray, unrecognizable from the home it was before, but Kat’s room remains like a shrine. An homage to the beautiful young and innocent woman she was. Her brush still sits on the chest of drawers laced through with strands of her flaxen hair. In a moment of carnal depravity, I yank open the small top drawer that used to house her bras and panties. White cotton, black lace, red silk. I pull out a cotton pair, bring them to my nose, and inhale deeply. Even though they’re clean, my cock is instantly hard at even the memory of her scent. I take them out and sniff them one by one as a jealous seed festers in my gut, bubbling and growing until I want to tear my hair out, screech into the void, and curse the gods for separating me from the other half of my heart.
I tuck the black lace ones into my pocket and move to the makeup table. Her perfume sits in its usual place as if she just ran out one day without packing and never looked back.
Vanilla. Soft, seductive, and simple. This scent is still my favorite and does unnamable things to my libido. I used to eat breakfast at a bakery in the city because of this scent. When you opened the door, it would envelop you, and I’d sit there and drink my coffee just to be near an aroma that reminded me of her. I’d linger at a small table staring out the window at the rush of people pushing past each other, always in a hurry, while I sipped my coffee and savored Kat’s scent, even if it was coming from a pastry. I never ordered one or asked which delicacy was responsible for the aroma because nothing would satiate my hunger for Kat, no substitutes, no proxies, no one-time distractions. Kat is my poison, my drug of choice, and I’d rather be sober, empty, and alone than waste my time on knockoffs that do nothing for me.
I decide to take a walk on the beach toward sunset. I’ve missed the spectacular light and color show the sun puts on every night out here as it dips behind the ocean. Maybe that’s what all these blue bloods pay the big bucks for, to be closer to the sky, closer to God. I walk down the dunes differently now that I own them. I make my way east, shoes in hand, waves lapping over my bare feet and sometimes dampening the fabric of my rolled khakis. I changed into a while linen shirt and casual pants, but I kept Kat’s black lace panties in my pocket just to be close to them.
My walk brings me past the Dunnings and the Ginsberg’s, the Hamilton’s estate, and the Levi’s. When I recognize the Lind’s mid-century modern palace, I move from the shore right up through the dunes, wondering if this is where Kat lives now with her piece of shit husband. My affinity for Eddie Lind has fallen to a zero and the respect I once had for him is non-existent since I saw him put his hands on the woman I love.
The estate is inhabited, and I open the wooden gate of their beach boardwalk and make my way inside the grounds. No alarm system, no obvious cameras—these sheltered upper echelons put too much trust in their neighbors, in my opinion.
Watch out, Montauk. Heath is back in town.
I walk right up to the house and the big picture windows glow with warm yellow light in the dusk. I spot Kat framed in an upstairs bay window looking out at the sunset, a long white transparent dress covering her gorgeous full body. She looks wistful and pensive and moves her hand gently up the frame. I stand in plain view by a garden gazebo. The grounds are lit by significant outdoor lighting, so there’s no doubt in my mind that if she looks my way, she’ll see me.