Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
KAT
I haven’t been able to focus since I got home. Reading the same sentence over and over while obsessing over the kiss.
It was gentle, yet demanding. As much as he yielded to me, he met me with a control that was addictive.
Already I want more.
Rolling over, I abandon my book and stare at the ceiling, my finger clamping around the heart stone that’s always reminded me of him. Always will.
My phone beeps, a notification popping up when I find it among the covers.
I click through to a blank account, nothing to recognise other than the name.
Heart_Eyes.
My pulse skips until I remind myself that I can’t afford to be trusting. It could be anyone. It could be the other one, he’d seen the mask as clearly as I.
Hi, Kat.
The message pops up in my requests, and I accept it, my tummy fluttering.
How do I know it’s you? Prove it.
Three dots bounce before his reply arrives.
Prove what?
That it’s you. Anyone could make this account.
A pause.
The first time I saw you, you were wearing a sundress the colour of lemons. White stitching at the hem.
I remember that dress with a fond smile. I wore it until the zip burst from me stuffing myself into it far longer than I should have. Even then, I kept it at the back of the wardrobe for two years before Martha made me throw it out.
Someone else could know that.
If someone else was there.
Another pause. I imagine him sitting somewhere, poring over his phone. Then feel a bit put out that he’s there instead of guarding my window. But Ellie’s home for once, albeit in bed already. And he never seems to come when she’s here.
Would they know about the graze on your leg that looked like a dolphin? The one from the rocks by the stream.
I can’t help but laugh. He brought me a leaf to use as a plaster, which didn’t work, but I’d chatted to him non-stop about that bloody dolphin scab. I loved it.
When it had scabbed over, I named it Gerald, treating it like another new friend. I mourned its fading with genuine grief. It was high enough up my thigh that no one else had ever seen it, and after being slapped by Martha, I only shared things on a need-to-know basis with her.
It’s you.
It’s me.
Those two words make me bite my lip. It’s really him.
Send me a picture. Show me.
Greedily, I want a little piece of him to keep to myself, or to show Ellie if I need to.
A minute passes before an image pops through.
Him in his mask, not posed in a way where he’s given it much thought, but he doesn’t need a pose for me to salivate over him.
Those dark eyes are enough. Not to mention the cut of his jaw beneath the mask’s material, and the thickness of his chest and arms. There’s no visible background, thus no more clues about him.
I look at it for at least a minute.
Then I pull my oversized t-shirt off one shoulder, tilt my phone, and send a picture back before I think better of it.
His response is instant.
Whose shirt is that?
The speediness of his response has me grinning. I love that he seems so possessive. I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it.
Old fling from sixth form. Why?
You should be in one of mine.
Fuck.
That sentence does ungodly things to me. He may as well have diverted a river between my thighs for the state it leaves me in.
I’m about to type back when I hear the snap of the letterbox from the sitting room. It’s way past the time when anyone should be delivering anything. A surge of nerves hit me. What if the other guy is back with a new note?
I frown, before going through to check.
Dark fabric lies on the floor, folded roughly. Opening it up, I note it’s a black T-shirt, the kind Heart Eyes wore below his hoodie from the glimpse I saw.
Recklessly, I press it to my face and inhale, the fabric still warm from his body.
It smells like deodorant and salt. And a little bit of him, the same scent when he pressed me against the books earlier.
I should cuss him out for still being out there, especially with Ellie asleep across the flat.
What if she heard? How would I explain getting late-night deliveries of warm clothes through the letterbox?
I hope that was from you.
A knock on the window stops me dead. I pull back a curtain, and there he is. Hoodie, unfortunately, was zipped up and covering the gap where his T-shirt was. Shame.
Those painted hearts stare right at me. Filling my window frame with nothing but him. I close my bedroom door and face him. Excitement twists through me. He’s so close. Just the glass between us, the dark of the alley behind him, and those eyes.
My phone beeps in my hand.
Put it on. Now.
I look at him and hold up the T-shirt. There’s a game here that I’ve been waiting a long time for someone to play with me. Something that has me thrumming with desire. Despite my better judgment.
I reach for the hem of my t-shirt and pull it over my head. His eyes widen at the sight of me naked, and I thrive on the heat simmering there. The absolute possession in his gaze.
I fucking love it, and need more.
But first, I want to tease him. I want him desperate to the point he wants to break through the window just for another taste.
Hell, if I push him far enough, maybe he’ll take off his mask.
It falls to mid-thigh, huge on my shorter frame. Being in his shirt feels electric, the hairs on my arms standing up as I pose for him. I feel claimed.
Put the other one through the door.
I walk back to the letterbox and feed it through, listening to him on the other side of the door. The next text comes through as I return to my room, closing the door behind me and kneeling on the bed facing the window.
You look beautiful.
No mincing of his words. I smile at him through the glass, toying with the hem of his shirt, raising it up my thighs.
God damn, Kat.
Laughter comes easily, given how delighted I am with myself. I raise one side up higher, feeling the hem grazing my pussy. His eyes narrow, and he places a gloved hand on the window for a moment before he lifts his phone and types again.
I’ve never been so hard.
His admission makes my stomach do a little flip.
Show me.
A pause. I bite my lip, wondering if I’ve pushed too far. With his past… Then I remind myself that he one hundred percent started this. The stalking. The kiss. The T-shirt. All of it. And he’s big enough to tell me no if he doesn’t want this. He can leave any time.
If you can demand I wear your shirt, I can demand you give me something to dream about.
He looks up at me, his eyes glittering darkly.
I will if you will.
Too damned right I will. Shifting a little closer to the window, I sit down on the bed with my knees together. I agree with a nod, before spreading my thighs wide.
Fuck me, I’ve never felt hunger through a window before. He tucks his phone away in a pocket, then loosens his belt. That alone has me near flood level, and that’s before he pulls out his cock. Boy, he wasn’t lying.
It’s thick as you like. A decent length, but the girth is what catches my eye. That and the piercing through the tip. A glint of silver, like it’s got a fucking crown.
Never did I believe I’d see the day when a cock would have me breathless.
My cheeks heat when I drag my eyes from it and meet his gaze.
He pushes a hand against the glass, above his head, and leans in so his face is nearly against the pane.
As close as he can get. When he grasps his cock in his hand, I slide my fingers between my legs, meeting no resistance with how wound up he has me.
And he’s not even in the same bloody room.
Imagine how it would be with him here in my bed?
A place I’d let no other man venture to in years, but would welcome him into in a heartbeat.
Circling my fingers, I moan as sensation washes over me. It usually takes me a while if I’m going manual, but the pressure already mounts deep inside. It’s like he’s stoked a fire there and commanded it to burn.
His fist moves, matching my strokes, and when he quickens, I thrust two fingers inside myself, imagining them to be his. My thighs tremble as I flick from watching him fuck his hand to the look in his eyes. The absolute longing I find in those dark pools.
He looks at me like I’m someone to be adored.
Not a girl who was broken at eight.
I hope I can make him feel that when I look at him. Like he matters.
Shifting positions, I press up against my window too, my forehead leaning against the cool glass, not quite tall enough to be close to his face, but needing to feel near him all the same.
I’m so close to tipping over the edge.
My breath fogs the glass where I pant, stifling my moans in a bid not to have Ellie wake. He moves a hand lower, sliding a thumb over my lips. I wish I could feel his touch.
‘Please,’ he whimpers, in that way that men do that absolutely eviscerates us women. That needy, horny whimper that makes me feel like a goddess. His voice is muffled through the glass, but it’s enough to set me off.
Pleasure tumbles through my centre, a deep roiling that has me gasping against the glass. I look up into his eyes as I come, losing myself in him.
‘Come for me,’ I beg between quaking moans, needing him to lose control too.
With a harsh jerk of his cock, he does. All over the glass. In great white jets from that magnificent, metal-topped cock.
Not quite satisfied that I’ve teased him enough, I bend and place my tongue flat against the window, right where he’s glazed it the most. I drag my tongue across the glass, and delight in the fuckkkk he murmurs on the other side.
Finally, I kneel back on the bed and pull his shirt down over my thighs, he fastens his trousers, much to my dismay, and other than the white streaks dripping down my window, it’s like it had never happened.
I wish you could come in.
Not tonight, darling.
Darling. I smile despite the rebuff.
Grabbing my old high school boyfriend’s T-shirt, he uses it to clean his cum from my window, swiping it through the mess until it’s absorbed it all. Even that makes me want to drag him inside and sit on top of him.
He holds up the soggy garment and a lighter, flicks it to life, and places it beneath the relic from my past. Orange blooms, travelling up the material fast and eager, consuming it entirely.
It’s insane.
Completely insane. And yet, when he looks at me through the dying flame, I know I’m so utterly gone for this man.
Goodnight Kat.
Goodnight.
Close your curtains properly this time.
I roll my eyes until he narrows his, and I begrudgingly obey, shutting him out of view. Collapsing into my pile of pillows, I grin.
What a night.
Good girl.
Normally, I’d have kicked his ass for treating me like a pet, but coming from him, a good girl doesn’t feel so bad.
Still, equal opportunities and all.
Good boy.
I fall asleep in his T-shirt, with his laugh reaction open on my message.