24. LILLY
24
LILLY
I roll over in my bed, trying to clear my mind as thoughts of my masked man race through my head. Since he visited me, I’m unable to sleep, wondering if he’ll show again. Each time I think of that night, my walls clench with the memory of his fingers inside me. My clit tingles at the ghost of his tongue.
I lie back on my bed and stare up at the ceiling in the dark room, more aroused than I was before I made myself come in the bath tonight. Before, when I would live out my fantasy in my head, the man was always faceless, which is ironic that in reality he’s still faceless. Only now I picture Shane.
When I imagine someone’s hands on me, it’s his, and it’s his teeth sinking into my flesh. I still haven’t figured out if it’s really him or just my wishful sick feelings. And I don’t want to question it, as I don’t want this to stop. If this is the only way I can have him, I’ll take it.
My sister will never know, and Shane and I can carry on acting normal when we’re around each other. Even if my sister found out, she can’t be mad at me for sleeping with her ex if I didn’t technically know it was him. She’ll think I’m insane, yes, but she couldn’t blame me for something I did unknowingly.
I burst out laughing at myself as I stare at the ceiling like a madwoman. There’s nothing normal or sane about any of this and I’m talking as though this man is my brother-in-law and he could just be a regular psycho that I let into my bed. Well, technically, he let himself in.
Shane would have him arrested. Kane would probably kill him and then there’s my brother, who’d probably set his house on fire or something crazy. My sister would lecture me about safety. Not that she’s one to talk. Other than Shane, her choice in men has been one disaster after another.
I’m going crazy. The man who took me to see my mother today isn’t the same man who sank his teeth into my thigh and ate my pussy as if he was winning some pie-eating contest. The two are completely different.
After reasoning with myself and knowing that this is wrong in every way, I still hope my sarge will break in tonight and take me. Giving up my freedom and having all choices taken away from me, even for one night, is liberating.
It’s an escape where I’m not myself and I can let all my worries and problems disappear. I’m at the mercy of his hands. Those big rough hands. My pussy clenches again, seeking those thick fingers, I trail my hand down my body and slip my hand inside my shorts to fondle my throbbing clit.
Moaning, I arch my back, sliding my finger lower. I’m so wet. Moving my finger back and forth from my entrance to my clit, I get into a rhythm, imagining it’s his gloved hand on my skin.
Barks from next door break my concentration.
I pull my hand from my shorts with a huff, and pull the pillow over my ears to muffle the noise. The vein in my neck pulses as my mind remembers the last time Russel was barking at this time of night. I jolt upright in the bed. Holding my breath, I listen for the creek on the floorboards, my heart racing as if I’m being chased.
Scrambling off the bed, I slink to the door and open slowly, my eyes adjusting to the streetlight shining through the landing window.
“Have you been waiting up for me, nightingale?” His deep tone has my spine straightening.
I spin around toward his voice. He’s standing in the doorway to my bathroom like a shadow all in black, camouflaged in the darkness.
My breath halts. I’m frozen to the spot as I take in his broad chest, the fabric of his long-sleeved top clinging to his muscles like a second skin. “What are you doing in my bathroom?”
“I had to adjust the camera. It didn’t show me much of your face when you came in the bath tonight. Which reminds me, I thought I told you that you’re not to come without my say so.”
I’m still registering his words. “You put a camera in my bathroom.” My hand flies to my mouth as acid rises in my chest. My throat burns, my face heats. He really is unhinged.
He steps closer. “Is my nightingale ready to receive her punishment?”
Oh fuck. I run to the stairs, my feet moving of their own accord as I cling to the bannister to stop myself falling. Once at the bottom of the stairs, I try the front door. It’s locked and my keys are in the kitchen.
He laughs from behind me. “Where are you going?” The stairs creak as he casually makes his way down. But I don’t hang around as I rush into the kitchen. The neighbour’s dog still barks as I open a cupboard door, looking for a frying pan or something. I should really keep one under my bed.
Before I can lay a hand on one, he’s behind me, lifting my body with his arms around my waist. He yanks me away from the window and pins me against the tall kitchen unit, his chest pressing against my back.
He whispers into my ear, “You can’t run from me, nightingale.” His warm breath seeps through his mask onto my neck, waking up my skin as it tingles there.
“What are you going to do?” I pant, unable to move as his body pins me between his hard muscles and the cool glass door of the oven against my chest.
Metal clinks against the unit and before my mind registers what it is, he’s holding my hands above my head and securing them to the stainless steel handle on the cupboard door above my oven.
I wriggle my body, but there’s no escaping him. “I can’t believe you invaded my privacy like that.” Heat courses through my veins, but it’s more anger than arousal. I don't care if he watches me in the bath, but I'm horrified that he's probably seen me taking off my makeup.
“You like the idea of me watching you. Admit it.” He steps around the kitchen in the darkness like he knows where everything is and opens a drawer of cloths and sponges for cleaning.
I rattle the cuffs against the handle above me. “Of course I love people watching me on the loo.”
With a chuckle, he says. “That’s not my kink. It only captures the bathtub.”
His words calm my mind, knowing he hasn’t been watching me remove my makeup in the mirror, but I must have looked a fright in the clay mask earlier tonight.
As he moves around my kitchen, the dog continues to bark, then he pulls my kitchen blind down, blocking out the moonlight. He takes a few cleaning cloths in his gloved hand.
I turn my head away before he can gag me with them, but he wraps them around my wrists under the metal.
My muscles relax a little, knowing he isn’t going to hurt me. If he was, he wouldn’t have taken the time to pad the handcuffs. Then he takes a towel hanging at the side of the sink and wraps it around my head like a blindfold. It was dark before, but now it’s pitch black, making me disorientated as I wait helplessly for his next move.
After a minute of him shuffling around my kitchen, his hands glide over my satin pyjamas, then slip under the fabric of my camisole, finding my breasts as they hang heavy without a bra.
My nipples harden to bullets with his rough skin against mine.
He squeezes them in both hands, rolling them beneath his palms. “I watched you in the bath and I watched you touch your aching pussy in the bedroom. Is there no satisfying this greedy cunt of yours?”
With one hand still fondling my breast, his other slips inside my shorts at the front.
I squeeze my thighs together, preventing him from touching me there. I don’t want him to know how embarrassingly wet I am right now. My forehead rests against the oven door, grateful for the darkness hiding my flushed cheeks.
“Is that how you’re playing tonight?” He chuckles into my ear. “We can play that game. But I promise you’ll be begging for my cock soon enough.”
With both hands, he yanks down my shorts. The fabric falls down my legs, pooling at my bare feet on the cool kitchen tiles. He squeezes my arse cheeks, kneading under his palms as if he’s a baker, taking pride in his work.
I drop my head, gazing at the outline of my toes in the darkness. A slither of moonlight casts shadows on the floor. My masked shadow swallows me whole as I submit to the primal need inside of me. He works my body, moulding my muscles to his until I’m relaxed, held up only by my wrists and his warm hands on my skin.
Wetness pools between my legs, my thighs embarrassingly slick with need. Thankful for the darkness, my flushed cheeks are hidden from view. I moan as his fingers slip between my thighs from behind.
“I knew you were soaked.” He must have removed the mask, as I feel his lips against my shoulders. “Give me your mouth.” He fists my hair, tugging my head back, teeth nip at my neck before his lips crash against mine.
With one hand tugging on my hair, his other wraps around my throat as he devours my mouth.
I meld to his lips, my tongue duelling with his for dominance as I try to gain entry into his mouth. I need to run my tongue along his teeth. I need to know if I’m losing my mind or if there’s any truth to what I feel.
We’re a frenzy of tongues, teeth and lips as he ravishes my mouth. It’s predatory, rough and all-consuming. My tongue breaks the barrier, but before I can feel for his chipped tooth, he’s sucking on my tongue, then biting and nipping at my lips.
I’m gasping for breath as he kisses my jaw, then latches on to my neck. The last set of marks he left there have faded.
He nips at my ear. “You belong to me, nightingale.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, delirious with pleasure.
“I’m the only one who gets to make you come.” He growls in my ear. “As much as I love watching you touch yourself. You didn’t ask my permission.”
“I’m sorry.” My bottom clenches with a stinging slap. “Ow.”
He chuckles as he rubs the flesh on my cheek. “You remember your safe word?”
“Yes.” My muscles tense, waiting for the next smack against my bottom.
He spanks my behind again, this time much harder, causing a loud crack to ripple through the air.
I suck in a breath through my teeth at the sting, the sensation completely new to me.
Another stinging slap causes me to cry out. “Sh...” Shane’s name is on the tip of my tongue as I imagine it’s him. “Shit.” It can’t be him. Shane would never do this.
There’s a click of a switch, then everything seems brighter behind my blindfold.
“Your ass looks so pretty with my handprint.” He’s back to rubbing the stinging flesh with his palm. “I’m the only one who gets to touch you, kiss you, and mark you like this.”
“Yes, sir.” My body’s burning up. Aware of the light on, I’m hiding my face, hanging my head low between my shoulder blades, my red flamed cheeks flat against the cool glass of my oven is the only thing stopping me from combusting.
His fingers slip between my thighs, gathering the slickness pooling there and lathering it between my cheeks. “Does my girl need to come?”
I push my bottom out, needing more of his thick fingers. “Please, sir.”
He whispers against my ear, “How do you want to come, baby? My fingers, my mouth, or my cock?”
Oh fuck. This man. “Cock. I want you inside me, sir.”
He slides his fingers from my clit to my entrance and back to massage the tight bud of my ass. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”
I bite into my lip to stop a giggle. “I didn’t know there was a wrong way to fuck. Unless you slip into the wrong hole.”
“Like this?” His finger pushes through the tight muscles of my ass.
I clench and suck in a breath, my body on fire, desperate for a release.
“I’m not sure you could take my cock here. Not yet, anyway.” He crooks a finger inside me, summoning another moan from deep in my throat. “We’ll work up to that, nightingale.”
His lips kiss my neck. Lifting my pyjama top, he trails his mouth down my spine, kissing and licking, awakening every nerve until he reaches my behind. “You taste like oranges and cinnamon.”
“It’s my bubble bath,” I say with a breathy whimper.
With his rough hands, he massages my cheeks, his thumbs rubbing circles just above my ass. “I love these dimples here.” He kisses the divots there, his lips soft like cotton wool.
Spreading my cheeks, his mouth moves lower, his hot breath in the valley of my ass.
My muscles tense. “What the…what are you doing?” The fire in my belly intensifies. Flames lick my face, but the unfamiliar sensation is too nice to want him to stop.
“Relax.” His tongue pokes at my ass and I’m sure my eyes roll back in my head. With a moan from deep in my throat, my body sizzles with all the heat of an inferno.
“You like that?” He licks me again, applying more pressure with his tongue.
My limbs twitch, and another throaty moan escapes. This man and his sinful tongue is everything I crave.
He sucks and licks at my tight bud, giving it the same care and admiration he gave my clit the last time he was here. Poking his tongue through the walls of muscle, he fucks my ass, groaning as if he’s enjoying this as much as I am.
Arousal slickens my thighs. I should be embarrassed at how wet I am, but I’m too delirious to care. Shamefully pushing my behind into his face, willing his tongue to probe deeper.
“Does my nightingale need my cock now?”
I’m barely able to form words, with the intensity of his tongue, his hands, and his face between my cheeks, giving me all the attention to detail a surgeon might give performing a life or death operation. With a tremble in my breath, I manage to croak out, “Yes, sir.”
He doesn’t let up on my ass. Sucking and rimming and, holy hell, my bones shake as if the ground is quaking beneath my feet, my knees weaken. He’s giving me a religious experience, glorifying me as if he’s a devout sinner and my ass is a temple, my body his church.
He bites into the fleshy part of my behind with another groan. “If I’m fucking you, I want you naked in bed, where I can worship you properly.”