8. Chapter 8
8
Layla
Next time I’m coming in, sunshine.
Unknown Number
My heart races as I read the text from the unknown number, which includes a picture of me sleeping.
Sunshine.
He was watching. He was here.
Fuck, he was watching. Did he see that…
I look at the picture again and see it. My vibrator.
That sick bastard.
Cold fury burns my skin, with a dash of shame, lust and failure.
That text was sent at 4:15 a.m. it’s now 9:30; he’s gone. How long was he out there for? What the hell was he doing? Was last night the first night? Who the hell does he think he is?
A dangerous man, Layla, that’s who he thinks he is. A man who can do what he wants to someone like me.
But that doesn’t stop the fact that he was just standing outside my window like some sort of fucking weirdo.
One that you want to fuck. My gaze drops to a grey piece of material on my windowsill, that absolutely was not there the night before.
I reach out and touch it, the material slightly wet.
“What the—?” I turn it over and then drop it at the realisation of what it could be. The man’s depraved.
So why am I excited? It’s because me, plain old Layla, I’ve made a man as dangerous as Luca Knight take his pleasure as I took mine.
“Now that’s depraved.” Annoyed at myself for finding pleasure when I should be disgusted, I close my window and draw the curtain before going back to my phone and ripping it from the bed.
I dial the number.
“Hello, sunshine.”
His deep alluring voice momentarily strikes me dumb. But only momentarily. “Are you some sort of psychotic stalker?”
I hear muffled voices in the background. “What do you want, Layla?” he asks.
“What do I want? I want to know what the hell you were doing outside my house at four in the morning?”
“I want to know what you were thinking about when you were fucking that vibrator,” he says, not missing a beat. “What was going through that beautiful head as you pushed it back and forth into your wet cunt?”
Oh. My. God.
I literally have no idea what to say back to him. My bravado has run to the hills.
“I can hear your breath hitch, Layla. Be a good girl and touch your pussy. Tell me, is it as wet as I imagine?”
“You’re disgusting.” No one has ever spoken to me like he has. “I’m going to call the police next time I see you, you piece of shit.”
He laughs. “Oh, please, sunshine. I know you’re as intrigued by this connection as I am. The question is, are you willing to play?” He hangs up, and I stare at my phone.
I’m disgusted, I’m appalled, I’m…. I’m fucking horny.
“Arsehole.”
I stomp across the room and grab my vibrator.