16. Lilith #2
It was normal to be attracted to hands, right? That was a thing. A normal thing. Some people had kinks. Some people liked feet, some people liked backs, some people liked… whatever this was.
I swallowed hard, my phone screen blurring as I tried to remember how to breathe like a rational adult.
Lilith
What is going on right now?
Mr Stalker
I panicked.
Lilith
You have a tendency to do that, don’t you? For someone so bold, you seem to panic a lot.
Mr Stalker
Not my best trait.
Lilith
What’s next, you panic some more and write my name on your abs with sharpie?
Mr Stalker
Would that help?
Lilith
Are you serious?
Mr Stalker
You asked…
Lilith
I was joking!
Mr Stalker
Oh.
The little dots bounced at the bottom of the screen, then they disappeared. Then they came back. Then they disappeared again.
Lilith
You good over there?
Mr Stalker
Should I not have offered?
I groaned, dragging a hand down my face, fighting the very real urge to scream into my pillow.
Lilith
Let me get this straight. I ask for a picture of your face, it’s a no? But I mention your abs and you offer to send me a thirst trap in less than two seconds?
Mr Stalker
I don’t know what a thirst trap is.
Lilith
How old are you? Sighs in millennial.
Mr Stalker
Lilith.
Lilith
Never mind.
Mr Stalker
No, tell me what it means.
Lilith
Nope.
Mr Stalker
Lilith.
Lilith
If you don’t know what it is, then you clearly don’t need to be sending them.
Mr Stalker
Listen. You doubted me. I provided proof. Feel like you owe me an apology.
No way was I apologising. Not happening. Absolutely not. But… maybe two could play at this game.
A slow smirk tugged at my lips, a flicker of something sharp and devious curling in my stomach.
Without giving myself time to overthink it, I shoved up off the bed, walked over to my full length mirror, and turned slightly, letting the hem of my oversized t-shirt ride up just enough.
The screen glowed back at me, the frozen image clear—the curve of my ass, smooth, bare, framed perfectly.
I might have hated my body, might have covered it with ink just to disguise the blemishes, the things I didn’t want to see.
But my ass? That had been the one solid thing I’d kind of always liked.
Lilith
Here’s your apology.
My smirk faltered as the little typing bubble refused to appear.
A minute passed. Then another.
I chewed on my cheek, shifting, suddenly too aware of my own boldness. Had I gone too far?
Then finally, the notification appeared.
Mr Stalker
Is this a thirst trap?
Lilith
It’s whatever you want it to be. Did it work as an apology?
Mr Stalker
Yes. That ass is a damn masterpiece.
Mr Stalker
Interesting decor by the way.
Huh? I frowned down at my screen, then glanced at my bed, suddenly feeling uneasy, scanning for—oh, oh shit.
I sucked in a sharp breath, stomach dropping straight out of my ass as my fingers flew back to the photo I’d sent. Sure enough, there it was. Right in the centre of the bed. Bright. Obvious. Mocking me.
My vibrator.
Oh no, oh no, oh no.
I didn’t. I couldn’t have. But I fucking did. I’d sent my stalker a picture of my ass… with my vibrator in full, unmistakable view.
That was it. I was faking my death and moving across the world, effective immediately.
Lilith
I DIDN’T MEAN TO DO THAT.
Mr Stalker
Didn’t mean to send the photo or didn’t mean to leave it there?
I groaned, slapping a hand over my face, kicking my legs in pure, undiluted horror.
Lilith
Stop.
Mr Stalker
No, I don’t think I will.
This was a stress dream. A fever induced, post-apocalyptic nightmare.
Mr Stalker
Do you want me to pretend I didn’t see it?
Lilith
YES. ERASE IT FROM YOUR MEMORY IMMEDIATELY.
Mr Stalker
I can try. But I can’t promise you that I’ll be able to forget about it anytime soon.
I needed to get out of this immediately. There was no salvaging this situation, no coming back from the absolute mortification that was currently coursing through my veins. So I typed the only escape route I had left.
Lilith
I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Mr. Stalker.
Mr Stalker
I bet you are. Goodnight, Lilith.
I threw myself down. I was never speaking to him again… probably.
I wasn’t even going to think about him. I was going to sleep.
Except…
My gaze drifted back to where my phone lay innocently beside me.
Before I could stop myself, I grabbed it, thumb hovering over the screen before I swiped it back open.
His pictures were still there, waiting.
Swallowing hard, I clicked on the first one. The lines of his body filled the screen—the ink swirling over his skin, the sheer size of him.
Because I’m a pervert, I tapped save. Then I did the same with the second.
I zoomed in, dragging my fingers over every sculpted line, every sharp edge of definition.
Right on cue, my body reminded me exactly what I’d been doing when he’d sent them. Heat coiled low in my stomach and my thighs clenched together.
I mean, there was no harm in using something that’s literally in front of me. No one would know. Not even him.
My breath hitched as I sank deeper into the mattress, letting my legs fall open. I was still wet from earlier, my body never fully coming down from that abrupt interruption.
And now, with the image of him in front of me—his hard-cut stomach, the broad frame that looked built to pin someone down and ruin them—
I clicked the vibrator on and pressed it back to my clit.
The sharp pulse sent a shudder through me, my fingers clamping down on my phone. My hips rocked forward, chasing more, chasing exactly what I’d been denied.
My gaze dragged over him. His hand. Strong, veined, like it was made to grip a waist, to hold someone in place .
A moan slipped from my lips, the vibrator’s relentless rhythm winding me tighter, sending heat surging through my limbs.
What would it feel like with that hand gripping my thigh?
What would it feel like to be under that body?
Pleasure built too fast, too sharp, overwhelming. My thighs tensed, breath catching—
With a choked, shuddering gasp, I shattered. Back arching as violent pleasure surged through me, stealing my breath. Every pulse, every ripple of sensation wrung me out completely, dragging me under, leaving me weightless in its wake.
The phone slipped from my fingers, landing beside me on the bed, the image of him still burned into my brain.
I blew out a long, heavy breath, staring at the ceiling.
Yeah. I was so screwed.