CHAPTER 35
**ZION**
Stepping across into her bedroom, I find it empty.
Snowflake's presence is only indicated by the subtle, flowery aroma that lingers in the air, a delicate scent that I can't quite place but that leaves me craving. It's understated and feminine, a sharp comparison to the strong perfumes and heavy makeup I'm accustomed to. Yet, Snowflake doesn't bother with either, which somehow makes her even more alluring to any man with working dick.
As I survey the room, a wave of satisfaction sweeps over me. The knowledge that I can invade her space at will, without her consent or awareness, fills me with a twisted sense of pleasure.
I take in the tidy dresser, the organized desk, and the soft lighting that bathes everything in a warm glow. The room is meticulously arranged, every item in its place: books lined up neatly on a shelf, a couple of framed photos on her nightstand, and a soft throw blanket draped over the back of her chair. The curtains are partially drawn, letting in just enough light to create a serene atmosphere.
My gaze drifts over to her dresser, and I recall the last time I was in this room. I had quietly sifted through her drawers while she slept soundly, my heart racing with adrenaline. I had carefully pocketed a pair of her panties, the thrill of the act sending a shiver down my spine. The memory of that covert intrusion, the mix of fear and excitement, still lingers with a twisted sense of satisfaction.
I walk around the room, trailing my fingers over her belongings—a hairbrush with a few strands of her silky hair, a bottle of lotion, and a collection of delicate jewelry. My curiosity and the thrill of invading her personal space merge, filling me with a twisted sense of pleasure.
My ears perk up at the faint sound of the shower running through the closed bathroom door, heightening the tension and the dark satisfaction coursing through me.
I walk toward the bathroom door and twist the handle, but it's locked.
Fuck, I don’t have the key to this door. A peek would have been nice. I guess I’ll have to wait. Flopping onto her bed without bothering to remove my shoes, I fold my arms behind my head, trying to be patient. My eyes stay glued to the bathroom door, anticipation building with each passing second.
The shower finally turns off, and I can feel my pulse quicken at the thought of what I might see. The door creaks open, and she steps into the room, a towel wrapped snugly around her slim frame.
Ahhh... shit. Just my luck!
The room is dimly lit, with soft light filtering through the curtains, casting a warm glow on her damp skin. Her hair is wet and clinging to her shoulders, droplets of water glistening as they trail down her neck. The faint scent of her floral body wash fills the air, mingling with the lingering warmth from her shower.
She's busy brushing her hair with her fingers, her eyes on the ground. Then she suddenly spots me! Shock and irritation flicker across her face as she lets out a startled yelp. I just grin, savoring the moment far too much.
"I'm disappointed in you. I was really hoping you'd come out naked," I say, my lips curling into a playful pout.
"Considering this is my house and you're living here rent-free, the least you could do is give me a little show. But no, you come out wrapped in a towel. It's almost insulting." I let my gaze travel slowly down her body, making sure she feels the weight of my stare.
"Come on now, don't be shy. Let me see what you're hiding under there."
Snowflake’s eyes lock onto mine, and her plump pink lips part. She clutches the towel tightly to her chest, as if it can somehow shield her from me. It's almost amusing—nothing can save her now.
My gaze roams down her creamy bare legs, savoring even this small glimpse. It’s not her tits or her ass, but I’ll take what I can get.
Still, I didn’t come here just to ogle her. I came to keep her on edge, to remind her who holds the power.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” she yells, her chest heaving with each breath, drawing my attention to the tantalizing swell of her breasts beneath the towel.
The room is warm from her recent shower, the air filled with the soft scent of her floral body wash. Her wet hair drips onto her shoulders, tiny droplets running down her neck and disappearing beneath the towel. Her eyes are wide with a mix of anger and fear, and I can see her muscles tense as if she's ready to bolt.
I can’t help but smirk, enjoying the way I’ve thrown her off balance. The soft lighting of the room casts a golden hue on her damp skin, making her look almost ethereal, despite the tension crackling in the air.
“Just making sure you’re uncomfortable, stepsister,” I say, my voice dripping with mock concern.
Her lips pucker like she's bitten into something sour.
“Well, consider it done. Now get the hell out of my room!”
I rub my jaw, feigning deep thought. “No, I think I’d rather watch you change.”
Her blue eyes widen, fear flickering in their depths.
Yes.
Give me your fear, your tears, your heartache.
“What is wrong with you? Get out. There is no way in hell I am changing in front of you.” Her voice wavers, and I can see the genuine surprise and indignation in her expression.
She still acts like the victim, as if she doesn’t know what she did, or as if she doesn’t deserve every ounce of my hate. Her ignorance about the mess she made of my life fuels my rage, simmering just below the surface.
“Drop the towel,” I order, my voice cold and unyielding, ignoring her question entirely.
She clutches the towel tighter, her knuckles turning white. Her breathing quickens, and I can see her chest rising and falling rapidly. The room is thick with tension, the warm air from her shower now mingling with the heat of our confrontation.
I fix her with an intense glare. As her back presses against the wall, her eyes betray her nervousness. It's exhilarating, knowing I have this effect on her, that I can make her squirm with just a few words. Beneath the thrill, anger simmers, fueling my need to dominate her completely.
Her skin glistens with moisture, and a few stray droplets of water trickle down her neck and chest. She looks almost vulnerable, but I know better. She’s not some innocent, and she needs to be reminded of that. My gaze travels over her, lingering on the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts barely concealed by the towel.
"You really think you can keep up this innocent act?" I taunt, leaning forward on the bed.
“Drop the towel, Snowflake. Let’s see just how innocent you really are.”
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