Chapter 8
I pull my wet hair out from under my bathrobe. I shudder as Juniper hands me a steaming cup of herbal tea. “There’s something wrong with me,” I murmur.
She flops down on the floor next to me and leans back against my couch. “How is any of this your fault?”
The memory of Jack’s hand on my thigh, his fingers expertly stroking my pussy, makes my clit throb. “I liked it. The way he touched me, the dirty things he said to me… I fucking loved it.”
She sighs. “Tell me again what happened.”
I close my eyes and take myself back to earlier. “He came up behind me and pushed me up against the wall. He said that he would never let me get away. It scared me, but it also turned me on. I’m sick, aren’t I? Fucking Stockholm syndrome or some shit.”
She bites her lip to hide a smirk. “Relax. I bet it’s just another game. There’s nothing wrong with you. Maybe him. But definitely not you. Did you see his face?”
I shake my head. “No,” I whisper. “He was wearing a mask… the same mask from our video chat.”
“That’s actually kind of hot. Sorry. But holy shit. It’s like he walked straight out of one of our favorite dark romance novels.” She lights up a joint, takes a puff, and hands it to me.
My cheeks heat. I take a long drag off the joint as I nod my head. “Right? Except this is real life, Juniper. He said he killed Barry. Hot or not, that’s fucked up.”
Juniper shrugs. “Meh. I mean who the fuck cares about Barry? Just go with it. He has a sexy voice and judging by the way you keep blushing, it sounds like he made you cum pretty fucking hard.”
I pinch my eyes shut and massage my temples. “Fuck. I have to block him. He’s dangerous.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “And you aren’t?”
A wave of nausea pulls at my belly. Juniper is the only one on this planet I’ve told my past to. “That was different.”
“Maybe it’s not. Jack may have had very valid reasons for killing Barry. Maybe he found out that Barry had creepy intentions toward you. Maybe—”
“Oh fuck!” I gasp. “What if Jack was at Joystick that night? That guy jumped to his death after leaving a written confession to assaulting me. You didn’t see that guy. I don’t believe for one second that he jumped. Maybe Jack was there, and he pushed him.”
Her eyes widen. “Fuck. That’s where his obsession with you started. It has to be. But if that’s the case, well, Roxy, he did you a favor. That guy got what he deserved in my opinion.”
I nod as another shudder rolls through me. “I was happy when I read that he was dead.”
She scoots over to me and drapes her arm across my shoulders. “Same. Listen, I’m going to do something really best friend worthy for you. I’ll talk to Milo and Coast and ask if they remember anything strange about that night. Maybe they saw something.”
I chuckle. “Damn. Now I know you love me if you’re willing to endure a conversation with those two when you don’t have to.”
She rubs my arm. “Of course I love you, bitch. As far as Jack goes, maybe stay away from the game for a couple of days. If he gets crazy, block the fucker.”
Somehow I think that will only make it worse. “He knows where I work. He knew that I’d be at Push tonight. He says he knows where I live .”
We both glance at my front door at the same time.
“Do you want to sleep at my place tonight?”
I wince. “Thanks, but I caught your brother sniffing my underwear last time.”
She bursts out laughing. “He was shitfaced and forgot where he was. Trust me, he’s obsessed with some college chick.”
“I’ll take my chances here. Seriously though, I’ll be fine. I bet Jack found out where we were from Rage and Skat. He’s probably just trying to freak me out for his own amusement.”
Juniper bounces up. “Exactly. And at least you got to cum on something other than your vibrator for a change.”
I playfully punch her in the leg. “Hilarious. You should have your own stand-up comedy show.”
We embrace, and I walk her to the door, making sure to keep watch until I see she’s safely in her car. Once I’m alone again, a barrage of chills find their way up my spine and to the back of my neck.
Out of curiosity, I power on my console but leave my status set to offline. My stomach drops into my feet. Fuck. I have seven messages from Jack. I don’t dare open them because he’ll know I’ve read them. Instead, I shut it down and crawl under the covers of my memory foam bed.
It takes me hours to fall asleep. My heart is racing, my adrenaline pumping, and every little noise makes me flinch. His voice replays over and over again in my head: you can’t run or hide because I’ll catch you before your feet even hit the ground.
The sound of my alarm sends me flailing. Fuck, I don’t remember it being this loud. I must’ve been in a really deep sleep. I turn all three of them off on my phone and roll over. I don’t have to work today so I can squeeze in another hour or so. Last night drained me in more ways than one.
But I can’t relax. Every time I close my eyes, I feel his hands on me. I hear his voice in my ear, his breath on my neck and my cheek. My juices leak into my panties. Fuck. A warm flush dances across my skin as the ache in my pussy grows. I haven’t cum that hard… ever .
My ex, Aaron, would pump inside me a few times before convulsing his load onto my stomach. He never cared if I came or not. He never asked, assuming I was as satisfied as him. I mean, who wouldn’t be after getting repeatedly stabbed in the cunt with an average-size dick for three minutes? I roll my eyes at the ceiling, annoyed by the memory.
I force myself out of bed and drag my feet to the kitchen. It takes the aroma of coffee brewing to bring my eyes from half-slits to wide open, but it’s that first delicious sip that brings me back to life.
With the sunlight streaming in from my bay window, last night’s events seem less dangerous. I had too much to drink and overreacted. Yes, it’s odd that he knew where I was. But like Juniper said, Skat and Rage probably let it slip. You can’t trust boys to keep their mouths shut. They gossip more than my Aunt Myrtle’s book club after church every Sunday.
What does still feel fresh is the way he touched me. The sensations that he drew out of me. It was like one of my wildest fantasies brought to life. I’ve never met a man like Jack before. He’s demanding and controlling, but he also wants to make me cum until I can’t see straight. This new feeling of being sexually satisfied is one I could get used to. I’m just not entirely sure I’m willing to pay the price. How far is Jack going to push me?
I shudder and immediately put on another pot of coffee, seeing as the first one is almost gone already. I refill my mug, which looks more like a bowl with a handle, and plop down on my couch. I pull my pink fuzzy blanket over my lap and count to ten. I have to look at his messages. I want to . His forwardness scares me a little, but I can’t help but get sucked back in.
My fingers tremble around the controller as I click on the first message.
You tasted so good on my fingers I had to lick them clean.
Oh fuck. My breath hitches. Why the fuck is that so hot? The temperature in my body rises as I move to the second message.
Does your pussy miss me? Play with her for me until we meet again.
I squirm against the cushions. A flurry of goosebumps commands the skin on my arms. Holy hell. This man is sinful and saintly at the same time. But a twinge of uneasiness stirs in my gut. Until we meet again . He assumes that we will. That’s a bit alarming.
The next three messages only get hotter and more depraved.
You’re going to look so pretty trying to swallow my cock. I’ll lick the tears from your cheeks.
And then I’ll tie you up… blindfold you… and watch you squirm in the dark. Until you’re screaming my name, begging for the slightest touch. You’ll be so starved for it that you’ll cum from just the brush of my lips on your neck.
I’m going to take care of you, pretty girl. I’ll scrub off the filth of everyone who’s ever touched you. You’re mine now, Roxy.
I gasp and almost drop the controller. Fuck. I pull the blanket up to my neck, shivering as I read the filthy things he wants to do to me. If this were a romance novel, I’d be so jealous of the main character. But this is real life. My life. And fantasies exist for a reason. They don’t make logical sense outside our heads.
I blow out a deep breath and click on the second to last message.
I have a present for you, pretty girl. Something to help loosen you up.
Fucking hell. My palms sweat. Last message.
Check your front door.
I freeze. A wave of nausea starts in the pit of my stomach and inches up my throat, threatening my equilibrium. I pinch my eyes shut and count to ten. Surely he’s just fucking with me, right?
I push myself up from the couch and stagger to my door. With each step, the trembles in my body increase. I look out the peephole first to double-check that there’s not a masked man standing on my porch. My fingers shake as I unlatch the chain, then the deadbolt, and finally turn the bottom lock, then the knob.
My eyes dart to the street, glancing around to see if I can spot anyone unusual. But my neighborhood is quiet as it always is on Sunday mornings. I look down to see a small pink heart-shaped box with a bow on top. I swear to god, this better not be someone’s finger. But that would be absurd. I really need to stop watching true crime shows by myself.
I snatch the box, dash back inside, and relatch all the locks. I pant against the door, holding the box out in front of me like it’s a bomb. Oh shit. What if it is a fucking bomb? He said he wanted to loosen me up. Maybe he meant because my body parts would be splattered all over my apartment. Fuck. Breathe, Roxy. Just breathe .
And yet I still hold it an arm’s length away from me as I walk to the kitchen table and set it down. I take another deep breath and lift the lid off. Oh god. Another wave of nausea hits me. It’s a fucking anal plug. And a tube of lubricant .
There’s also a note that reads: Get nice and wet before you put this in, pretty girl. And don’t take it out. I’ll remove it myself next time I see you.
My knees wobble as I read his words a few more times. My brain isn’t processing. This man does know where I fucking live. He was right outside while I slept. Fuck. I have a fucking stalker. When I begged the universe to send me someone who’s obsessed with me, I didn’t mean fucking literally.
A rush of adrenaline shoots through my veins as I dash over to the couch and pick up my controller. I click on his profile and hover the cursor over the block button. My breaths are coming in quick short bursts. My heart is racing. If I do this, it could anger him. I don’t know what he’s capable of, but I feel in my gut that he’s dangerous.
And yet he’s the one I dream about. The first person I think about when I wake up and the last person before I go to sleep. I picture his mask when I’m fucking my vibrator. I hear his voice in my head every time I cum.
I should block him and go to the police. But I don’t trust them either. They didn’t believe me back then. Instead, they threw me into juvie until I was eighteen. Attempted murder without probable cause. Fucking bullshit. It was self-defense. My momma knew it. That monster of a husband of hers knew it when I drove the knife into his gut. But it didn’t matter. He was the police chief’s son. And I was the daughter of an incarcerated drug dealer.
I spent two years in there. Two years because I had the audacity to try and kill the man who abused me every day. Those records are supposed to be sealed. But Jack, or whatever the fuck his name is, knows about it. That intrigues me more than it scares me.
I thought I’d left my past behind. I moved here to Lavender Heights to go to school. To start fresh. It was a miracle I got that dance scholarship. Only to lose it ten months later after the fall. I’ve been withdrawn and apathetic ever since. But it’s been three years. And Jack has awakened something in me that I thought had died. He’s lit my fire again.
A chill snakes up my spine. I swallow down the lump in my throat as I dig deep for my courage. I pick up the controller and reply to his last message.
Don’t come near my house again. Or I’ll stab you like I did him.
I hit send, wait for him to read it, and then block his profile. Let’s see what happens when Jack actually comes tumbling down.