20. LILLY
20
LILLY
I roll over in my bed and pull a pillow over my ear to muffle the barks from next door.
There’s a creak on the stairs. I jolt upright. My heart rate picks up speed as I realise in my sleepy haze that the dog only barks when he sees people in my kitchen or hanging around my property.
The pulse in my neck throbs as I scramble for my phone on the bedside table. In my haste, it falls down the back of the table. I throw the cover off me as I climb on all fours to reach down the back of the unit.
The door clicks open. My heart hammers in my chest. I spin back around on the bed, frozen under a large shadow. Before I can take another breath, a strong man is on top of me. The full weight of him presses me into the mattress.
I wriggle underneath him. In my head, I’m screaming, but the room remains silent. Only the sounds of heavy breathing and the squeaks from the bed fill the space.
I claw at the ribbed wool on his balaclava mask. Underneath, he’s breathing heavily as he grips my wrists and pins me down.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I whimper in defeat. My lungs gasp for air.
He dips his head, the outline of his nose trails along my cheek and into my neck. His warm breath seeps through the fabric of his mask as he shushes me.
“I’m not here to hurt you, nightingale,” he whispers.
My body stills. A shiver runs the length of my spine straight to my centre. His voice echoes in my brain as I try to place it. Without the voice distortion, he sounds familiar.
He holds my wrists with one firm hand while he reaches into his back pocket. In the darkness it’s hard to see what he retrieves, but when he secures my hands to the metal bars on the headboard, the hard plastic of the zip tie digs into my skin. He pulls it tight against my wrist as I writhe beneath him, still trying to claw my way free, but now it’s to pull off his mask so I can get a good look at the man who’s been haunting my days.
In a deep raspy whisper, he says, “Do you have a safe word?”
Disorientated, I can’t think straight. “No. I’ve never needed one before.”
“Pick one.” He ties my other wrist to a vertical pole that makes up the headboard. The weight of his body digs into my thighs, holding my legs in place.
“Flatline.” I cringe, scrunching my nose. It’s the first thing that came into my head.
His leather covered hands glide down my arms, now both my wrists are secured to the headboard. “If you want this to stop, you say flatline, and I’ll untie you and disappear.” His raspy tone sounds different to when he’s online, like he’s trying to keep himself under control and not show any emotion. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” There’s something familiar about him, but there’s a fog in my head, making it difficult to think. A battle of emotions fight each other inside my mind, knowing I should be scared. I shouldn’t want this man, but every fibre in my body craves him. His touch, his praise, his lips.
With that deep gruff, raspy tone again, he says, “You can say it now if you want to. I’ll untie you and leave without touching you further. Just say the word.”
It’s as if he wants me to stop this before we go too far, but I’ve fantasised about this moment. The words linger on the tip of my tongue, my mind willing me to say them, but my body won’t allow me to speak. I may not know who he is, but I know I can trust him.
“Last chance, nightingale.” His gloved hand glides over the ink on my thigh. A groan rumbles through the balaclava as his fingers reach the crease between my thigh and my pelvis. “I’ve waited a lifetime to touch you like this. Tell me to stop.”
I can’t tell if he wants me to tell him to stop like we’re playing a game or if he genuinely wants to give me a way out and leave, so I stay silent, afraid of the latter.
I don’t need to see his eyes to know they’re watching my every move. The mask he’s wearing seems thicker in real life, and he’s much larger in person than I thought he was. But despite his weight and tight grip, he’s like a gentle giant.
He pulls out a black cloth from his pocket, then covers my eyes, tying it behind my head. I couldn’t see much before, but now I’m in complete darkness, all my senses heightened. Every breath he exhales against my skin leaves a path of goose bumps from my neck to my breasts.
My back arches as his warm mouth engulfs my nipple through my cotton nightshirt. When he comes back up over my chest, his lips press against my skin. He must have taken off his mask. I writhe again, trying to rub my blindfold against my arm or the bed, anything to dislodge it so I can get a peek at my predator.
His body shakes. Puffs of air leave his lips as he continues to kiss my collarbone. With his mouth hot against my flesh, he says, “You can writhe all you want. That blindfold’s not coming off until I’m done with you.”
“Wha…what are you going to do?” I say between panting breaths. My body thrums with each kiss. His scent catches in my nose, and I inhale more of him, trying to figure out what it is. A mix of tobacco and mint.
His lips reach my ear, teeth tug on my earlobe before he whispers in a gravelly voice, “Whatever I want. Tonight you’re mine, nightingale.” He sucks below my ear, sending tingles all over my body, igniting the blood in my veins. His mouth doesn’t let up on my neck until I’m burning inside.
I whimper as his hand slips under my nightshirt, over my round stomach until he reaches my breast. His rough fingers tug on my nipple. It’s a different sensation to the gloves he wore a moment ago. But I love it. The rugged roughness of his hand contrasts to the gentle softness of his lips.
His mouth surrenders my neck, only to hover over my cheek. I turn my head to feel his lips against mine. They touch ever so slightly. Electricity pulses between us, but he doesn’t kiss me. He just hovers, brushing his lips against mine. It’s torturously teasing. We’re both still fully clothed, but this has to be the hottest, most sensual and exhilarating experience of my life.
I lift my hips, wriggling under him to feel something between my legs. His cargo trousers with side pockets scratch the inside of my thighs, but I need more friction. I need more of him, his weight, his body, his lips. This man is an enigma to me, but I can’t get enough.
He smiles against my mouth. “Does your pussy need some attention?”
“Yes.” I lift my hips again, rubbing myself against his thigh, arching with my hands bound above my head, seeking the contact I crave.
He moves his mouth away from my face, the loss of his breath leaving my skin cold. If I had my hands free, I’d pull him back to my lips to feel the warmth of his mouth.
“Kiss me.” My voice is a desperate whisper. “Please.”
Rough hands slide up my nightshirt, then it’s falling open as both hands fondle my breasts. “I’m gonna kiss you. I’m gonna cover every inch of your body with my mouth.” His fingers pinch my nipples, causing my back to arch. “But first, I’m gonna live out my fantasy with these tits of yours.”
My body trembles as his thumb circles my nipple. “What fantasy?”
I gasp as his tongue licks my breast in long strokes, all the way from the under-boob to the peak. “The one I’ve had since you played hide and seek with the lollipop. Now be quiet while I live out my dream.” He bites my breast, causing another gasp, then he sucks like he’s drawing blood. The pain travels to my soaked centre, and I rock my hips again.
With a growl, he lifts himself from me. My body stills. The only sound is my panting breath and a click of metal, then the tearing of fabric.
I yelp as my cotton knickers are torn from my body. “You could have just taken them off.” The cool air swathes my sensitive flesh. My body tingles at the new sensation, my clit throbs and my thighs are slick with my dripping arousal.
“But it’s more fun this way.” Something smooth and warm presses against my folds. “Is this what you want? My big fat cock feeding your pussy?”
“Oh, my goodness. Yess.” I rock my hips as it slips through my folds.
With his cock rubbing my clit, his hands are back on my breasts. His rough palms are heaven on my skin. All these sensations all at once have me on the cusp of orgasm.
A hand lets go of my breast, then seconds later, I scream as a sharp stinging slap lands at the side of my boob.
“What was that for? You crazy fucker.” I use my legs to kick his thigh to get my own back for the sting, but I can’t deny the shockwave it sent ricocheting straight to my core.
“You remember your safe word?” Another slap to the other side has me yelping again, but that one wasn’t so harsh. “Tomorrow, when you look in the mirror and see my marks, you’re gonna remember this night and get yourself off thinking of me.”
“Wow, you have too much confidence.” I kick my legs again, but it’s like hitting a brick wall as they hit the hard muscles on his thighs.
“And you have too much sass, woman.” He grabs hold of my flailing legs, then pushes my thighs wide open. “Maybe this will keep you quiet.”
Before I can say another word, his head nuzzles between my thighs, and I’m sucking in air. Rough bristles from his beard scratch against my skin as his hard, wet tongue laps at my centre.
“Mmme.” I moan with each warm lick of his tongue hitting my clit. I can’t think of anything else but chasing my orgasm.
He licks faster like it’s his favourite ice cream. His arms hook under my thighs, and he burys his face further into me, sucking on my clit.
“That’s…that’s…a…mazing.” I’m never going to be able to get off with just my toys after this. I’m always going to want this man’s mouth. A man I don’t even know; right now, he could be Jack the Ripper for all I care.
“Sing for me, nightingale.” He slips a finger inside me, and I cry out in exultation. My song would give any choir a run for their money.
“Beautiful,” he mumbles, between sucking and licking and nipping at my folds. Then he adds another finger, stretching me wider and finding the spot I can’t reach myself.
My cries get louder, my hips rock in rhythm with his tongue. I fist the metal bars above my head as my back arches and my body stiffens with a climax so powerful I’m trembling.
He doesn’t let up. Even as my pussy clamps around his digits, he continues to lap at my clit, making my body convulse and shudder with aftershocks.
I lie limp and spent at his mercy, my pussy still pulsing from the earth shattering orgasm.
He slips his fingers from me with a squelch. “I felt you gush all over my fingers.” Then his tongue is licking at my entrance, lapping inside as far as it will reach. “Damn, woman, the taste of your pussy is my new favourite thing.”
“I might just come again if you keep doing that.” My thighs tremble around his head. I never want him to stop eating me.
“This?” His tongue dives inside, swirling around and cleaning me up from the inside while his nose presses at my sensitive spot, rubbing just where I need it. “Come on my face, nightingale.”
“Yes. Keep doing tha—” My voice cracks as another orgasm hits. It takes control of my body, arching my back and making my toes curl.
My bones turn to jelly as I flop out on the bed for the second time. “I can’t take any more.” I hum as his mouth presses kisses all over my sensitive flesh. He doesn’t even seem to mind about the light dusting of hair growing back there.
His lips kiss along the crease of my belly and my leg. I jerk as he sinks his teeth into the fleshy part of my inner thigh. Before I can protest, he’s kissing and licking it better. The pain followed by pleasure is new to me, but I like it.
I brace myself for his big cock while I catch my breath. After a minute or so, he’s still not attempted to fuck me, but there’s a slapping sound like he’s tossing himself off.
“What are you doing?”
“Marking what’s mine.” He groans as the jacking off sounds become faster.
“I want to see.” I bite my lip while I hold my breath.
He moves around the bed adjusting things, then lifts my blindfold. Two dark slits in his balaclava stare down at me, but with the ring light behind him, he’s more of a silhouette as my eyes adjust to the soft light, preventing me from seeing the colour of his irises or making out any features. He’s all in black, right down to the leather glove curled around his shaft.
I watch with wide eyes as this man beats his dick with faster movements than I could ever do. On his knees, he towers over me, groaning and huffing into his mask.
“I like you like this, tied up and at my mercy. You look so pretty covered in my marks. And you’re gonna look even better covered in my cum.”
A soft light shines from behind his large frame. My mouth parts with a gasp. A phone’s clamped in the centre of my ring light. “Did you film us?”
“I did. I’ll send it to you if you like.” He says it with pride as if I should congratulate him for his creativity.
“I never gave you permission to make your own porno movie,” I say, my voice breathy.
“Oh, come on.” He shoves two leather fingers inside me, pumping them in and out as he pumps his dick in his fist. “You think guys aren’t recording you every time you get the goods out?”
With his digits working their magic inside me, I’m less mad about the filming. If he keeps curling his fingers against parts I can’t reach myself, I may forget all about it completely, but he’s not totally off the hook yet.
He groans as if having his fingers inside me pleasures him as much as it does me. I let him have his moment, enjoying the show of watching him get off. It’s what I love about being a cam girl, knowing a man is getting off by watching me is addictive. The thrill is like a drug, intoxicating, exhilarating, and empowering.
I gasp as ropes of hot cum spill onto my belly.
The movements of his fingers inside me, slow as he catches his breath, sinking back onto his heels.
I arch my spine, needing more of his digits. My hands tug at the metal bed frame, then I wince as the plastic digs into my wrist.
He exhales through his mask, then hums approvingly, his gloved hand swirling his cum around my stomach as if it’s his own brand of massage oil. He reaches for the phone from the ring light and swipes to the video. “I can delete it if it makes you uncomfortable.” He hovers above me, waiting for an answer. “But I thought you liked the idea of being watched.”
It may have his face on or a clue to his identity so I shake my head. “Let me watch, sir.”
Playing the video, he holds the phone and shows me the recording of just my face. His other hand rewards me by massages my clit with his thumb, his digits crooked inside me, summoning another orgasm like a necromancer, bending my mind and body to his will as I forget all about the movie he’s filmed. “You like watching yourself, don’t you?”
My head nods, unable to speak as the pleasure he’s giving me builds in my belly, the leather glove slick with my arousal. I don’t take my eyes from the recording, desperate for any clue to my shadow’s identity.
“I like watching you too,” he says in a deep gruff voice. “Sing for me, nightingale.”
I cry out as I come again around his fingers, my walls clenching. My back arches and my face contorts just as it does on screen. Moans from deep in my belly rise and escape with a rumble in my lungs. Like an echo, whimpers come through his speaker.
“I’ll never get enough of watching you come.” He slips his hand from me, my slickness webbing between his gloved fingers, highlighted by the glow from the phone. He swirls it on my stomach, mixing my arousal with his own, then brings his hand to my lips.
My tongue darts out to lick his thumb. “If you have a movie of me, I think it’s only fair I have one of you.”
“I’ll send it to you.” He groans behind his mask. “You remember when you asked me what my fantasy was?”
I nod, “Yes, sir.”
“It’s this. Having you tied up covered in my scent...” He swirls more of our mixed arousal over my skin. “…my cum...” His wet glove slides over the bite marks on my breasts. “…and my marks.”
I could come again from his words, his hands roaming my flesh. He might have his face covered, but I don’t need to see his eyes to know they’re worshipping me, taking in every part of me lit with the soft glow from the ring light.
“Wait here,” he says as he climbs off the bed and exits the bedroom.
I rattle the cuffs against the headboard. “Like I can go anywhere.” Holding my breath, I listen for where he’s disappeared to and wonder how long he’s going to leave me here.
A few minutes later, he returns with a wet, warm washcloth. Wordlessly, he wipes it against my body, starting at my chest.
Relaxing against the restraints, I let him take what he wants, enjoying the feel of him and how he takes his time to wash my skin as if committing every curve and crease of my body to memory.
I’m floating as he swipes my stomach with the cloth. No man has ever paid this much attention to me after sex. I worry my bottom lip, wondering if this is all a dream and I’m about to wake up any minute and find my shadow gone.
“Will you stay?” I know I can’t have a relationship with this man, but I don’t want him to go.
He pauses, his soft caress against my skin. “Do you want me to?”
“Yes.” I know I’m crazy and I hardly know this man, but I’m drawn to him like a flower is drawn to the light. Only my shadow lives in the darkness.
He finishes cleaning me, then pulls a knife from his combats and severs the wraps around my hands.
I run a finger over the scrapes on my wrists. It sends a tingle to my core, the sore skin a reminder of probably the best sex of my life.
He turns the ring light off and pulls the blanket over me, tucking me in. “I can’t stay this time.”
This time? There’s gonna be a next time. I curl up in my bed, hating how this scenario is all too familiar and yet again, I’m left alone after sex. I told myself I wouldn’t settle for this again, but my body vibrates with the promise of next time, and I can’t wait for that night to come.
I slump into my house, lock the door, and throw the keys on the side console table before kicking off my shoes. Coming off a twelve hour night shift is exhausting. I should go straight to bed, but I need to do some laundry and clean up.
Stumbling into the kitchen, a fresh floral scent catches in my nose. A vase full of white lilies is the focal point on my kitchen table. My heart thrums faster as I walk over to the arrangement. I stroke the soft velvety petals with my fingertips while I search for a card, but I don’t need a card to know who these are from.
I spin around, wondering if he’s still here. My mystery man who lets himself in and out like a cat burglar in the night. Yet the only thing he stole was a piece of my heart.
My nipples pebble at the memory from a few nights ago while I look for more clues of his whereabouts. I part my mouth, taking in the spotless kitchen and a full washing machine on a finished cycle.
Running up the stairs, my stomach tightens. As tired as I am, I still hope to find him in my room, but upon opening the door, I’m met with an empty space. Though my mystery man has left me another gift on my bed.