Chapter 12
ESSENCE
How is he able to keep himself on that tree branch for so long without falling off? I wonder as the masked man puts his dick back inside his pants.
I hold up a finger to let him know that I’ll be back in a minute before flying out of the bed and going to the bathroom to wash my vibrator and hands, and to wipe the blood from my mouth and nipples.
When I go back to my room to put the toy away, though, my heart races when I don’t see him in the tree anymore.
I rush to the window and look down at the grass below, but he’s not lying there in a broken heap.
Thank goodness, but where the hell did he go?
Disappointment fills me; I didn’t realize how much I craved his attention until now. I’m just about to get back into bed when I hear noises coming from downstairs.
After quickly redressing, I grab Lunchbox and quietly tiptoe downstairs.
When I reach the bottom step, I quickly realize that I don’t have a means of protection other than this little puppy in my arms, and now I feel stupid for not at least grabbing a pair of scissors or something out of my desk drawer.
The living room is dark now from the sun setting. I stand still at the bottom of the stairs and listen for something, anything to let me know if there’s someone else down here or if I’m just imagining things.
That’s when I feel it—a dark presence is in here with me.
“Is it you?” I whisper, desperately looking around the room for a familiar form.
“Yes, little flower,” a voice, dark and deep, says.
I let out a little gasp when a darkened figure steps into my line of view in the kitchen. Lunchbox starts whimpering and nuzzles his face into my chest.
He’s so tall that his head almost touches the top of the door frame as he comes to me in three long strides.
I’m so overwhelmed by his looming presence that I take a step back, but I only end up pushed against the wall. The man braces his hands on either side of my head and leans in so close that my nose and lips just barely graze the surface of the gas mask.
Even though he’s so close to me, he’s careful not to crush Lunchbox beneath his massive body. That little gesture has something stirring in the pit of my stomach.
“How did you get in?” I ask quietly, looking deep into those amber eyes. He must be wearing a black mask underneath the gas mask, because all I can see of his face are those eyes that stare at me so intensely. There’s something familiar about them, but I can’t quite place my finger on it.
He cocks his head in the direction of the kitchen. “The backdoor.”
Although his voice is deep and rough, it sounds muffled; he must have some kind of voice distorter inside of that mask.
“Oh,” is all I can think of to say. My chest heaves as I struggle to catch my breath, but it’s so hard when he’s so close.
I’m not sure how long we stand there staring at each other, but it’s so dark now that I just barely make out when he reaches up a gloved hand to trace the outline of the bruise on my cheek. I wince, and he pulls back, but I shake my head.
“He hurt you,” he says roughly.
“It’s okay. I like it,” I whisper.
His eyes darken deliciously. Somehow, he knows what I mean—that I like when he hurts me, not when Evan does.
I think Lunchbox can sense the tension in the air because he starts growling.
“I need to put him away,” I say, slipping underneath the man’s arm and practically sprinting to Lunchbox’s cage. I’m awash with cold air now that I’m not near him, but I need to take a quick breath because my body is on fire right now.
“Don’t be nervous, little flower,” he says gruffly. I let out a squeak and turn around to find him standing right behind me. “You know I won’t hurt you, Essence. Put the dog away so I can touch you.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and do as he says. Lunchbox starts crying, and my heart aches to pick him back up again, but I just want at least a few moments alone with my masked stranger. This is the closest we’ve ever been before, and I don’t want to ruin the time we have together.
Grabbing his hand, I pull him towards the kitchen. “Let’s go in here. It might be easier if he can’t see me.”
It’s not easier, actually, because Lunchbox loses his mind now that I’m out of his sight. I want to go get him, but the man wastes no time putting his hands all over me once we’re in the kitchen.
His fingers are gentle and almost exploratory as they wrap around my thick curls. I close my eyes and sigh as he gently tugs on the strands.
“Harder,” I beg, desperate for the pain I’ve been waiting to feel from him.
Whoever this is must spend more time watching me than I realized because he tangles his fingers in my hair and grips it at the scalp.
“You like that, baby?” he asks roughly as he pulls my face closer to his, those dark eyes full of desire.
I nod and whimper, “Yes.”
Liquid heat spreads from the pit of my stomach to my aching clit. My hips buck instinctively, seeking a reprieve from this torturous arousal.
A low growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and my body practically melts into his as my legs give out. I grip the smooth fabric of his shirt to keep from falling and gasp when I feel how solid his body is.
Whoever he is, he’s in amazing shape.
Slowly, his hand glides from the softness of my belly down to the warmth and wetness between my legs. I moan when he dips a finger into my wet pussy and pulls it out to trace circles on my clit.
“Fuck,” I breathe, my cheeks red and chest heaving from the sheer effort of trying to breathe properly.
It’s been so long since Evan and I have been together that I’d almost forgotten how good it feels to be touched like this.
The man walks me back until I’m pressed against the fridge, one hand still pleasuring me while the other remains tangled in my hair, gripping it harder and tighter.
Fuck, I feel like I’m going to explode.
“Oh, God,” I breathe, jerking my hips in a desperate attempt to get more of him.
The man lets go of my hair and cups my ass, pressing himself against me while still rubbing my clit. His hardened cock rests against my stomach, a warning of what to expect should we finally go further.
Beads of sweat form on my forehead as I grip his broad shoulders. Pressure builds between my legs, and I’m grinding on him like crazy, chasing that inevitable high.
My orgasm crashes into me, quick and hard. My screams of pleasure echo off the walls of the small kitchen. My stranger holds me as his finger moves faster, not stopping even as my body seizes up.
“Stop, please,” I beg pathetically. Tears and sweat fall down my face and neck and soak into my shirt.
“I’m not done yet. And neither are you,” he grunts. His eyes are so intense as he watches my face, observing the way my body practically sings for him.
“Close your eyes,” he says suddenly.
I can barely concentrate on anything but what he’s doing to me.
“Now, Essence.”
My eyes fall closed at his dark command, and I wonder why he’s asked that of me when we’re in the middle of this right now.
The hand holding my butt leaves for a second, then returns right before a sharp pain pierces my neck. I yelp, more from the shock of it, but then moan when something warm and wet soothes the small hurt.
Oh my God. He just bit me, which means his mask is off, and I can finally see who he is.
“Don’t even think about it,” he growls, seeming to sense what I’m thinking and biting me again.
What he’s doing to me feels so fucking good; that pressure between my legs intensifies, and after another bite, I’m holding onto him and screaming as another—more powerful—orgasm overtakes me.
My panties are wet in an instant.
Like, drenched.
He keeps his teeth clamped onto the soft flesh of my neck, one hand cupping my ass, and the other wrenching every bit of energy out of me.
I slump against him, sweaty and panting, eyes still closed and face pressed into his chest. He pulls his hands away and then tips my chin up.
“Open your eyes,” he says quietly.
I frown in disappointment when I see he’s already replaced the mask, but honestly, I don’t think I’d care if he kept his face hidden forever. If he keeps doing to me what he just did, I’d be perfectly fine with that.
“I’ve never done that before,” I admit, cheeks flaming.
“I know,” the man says matter-of-factly. “Evan can’t do half of the things I can to make you feel good.”
It’s so fucking weird that he knows that. I don’t even know how he knows that, but I don’t bother to ask. It will only make him stalking me that much weirder.
Despite what I thought earlier, I am a little curious to know who he is.
Chewing on my bottom lip, I ask, “Who are you?”
The man cocks his head as he studies my face. “You already know me, little flower.”
What does that mean?
I’m not sure, but a feeling of dread fills my stomach, and I finally break out of the haze I’m in.
Lunchbox is barking incessantly and sounds like he’s trying to break out of his cage; with all the screaming I was doing, he probably thinks I’m in danger.
Sensing the change in my demeanor, the man lets go of me so I can get Lunchbox.
“Am I scaring you?” he asks from behind me.
I jump and turn around, clutching Lunchbox close to my chest. He nuzzles into my neck like he always does, but it’s still tender from those bites.
God, I hope I have enough makeup to cover up the bruises I know will form soon.
“N-no, you’re just…” I swallow and gesture from his head to his feet. “There’s so much of you, and…”
“And?” he presses.
“You’re really…” I chew on my bottom lip as I search for the right word. “Intense.”
That’s an understatement.
Obviously, I can’t see his face beneath the mask, but I just know he’s smirking like a cocky bastard underneath it.
I roll my eyes, but I’m still so aroused by him.
If it weren’t for Lunchbox practically having a panic attack right now, I’d rip all of his clothes off and do every dirty thing I’ve thought about doing to him for the past six months.
If what he just did to me was an indication of how much he wants me, I can only imagine what will happen when we finally have sex.
The man looks down at Lunchbox and chuckles. “Maybe I should go.”
With one last lingering look, he gently cups my face with one of his massive hands and strokes my cheek with his thumb, smearing my release on my cheek.
“Can I text you later?” I ask quickly as he walks to the backdoor.
Way to not seem desperate, Essence.
He stops with his hand on the doorknob and turns to look back at me. “Of course, flower. I’ll be waiting.”
After he closes the door behind him, I lean against the kitchen counter and take a deep breath. Lunchbox pants against me, then he sniffs my cheek.
“I smell like sex,” I say apologetically as I walk back towards the stairs. “I know it’s not a scent you’re familiar with,” I add sarcastically.
I let another man finger me, and now I’m going to have to try hard as hell to keep it from Evan.
Now we’re in some messy territory.