25. Lilith
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
N othing says ‘definitely didn’t get finger-fucked by a masked man with really big hands’ like waking up in a disgustingly good mood for no reason at all.
Seriously. Disgusting.
I was practically skipping through my shift, humming like I was the embodiment of inner peace.
The sun was out, the bookstore smelled like my fresh coffee and old paper, and the closest thing to stress I’d encountered all morning was debating whether to rearrange the romance section by trope instead of title.
Which meant something was deeply, deeply wrong.
And judging by the way Molly was eyeing me like I’d been replaced by an alien in a Lilith-suit, she agreed.
She leaned against the counter, arms crossed, squinting. “You’re in a good mood. What’s wrong?”
I scoffed, scanning another book. “Nothing’s wrong.”
She didn’t move. She didn’t blink. What was it with people freezing in my presence?
“Oh my God,” she grinned. “It’s Mr. Stalker, isn’t it?”
I kept my face neutral but raised a brow. “Excuse me?”
“I mean, I’m not saying you’re dick-drunk or anything but this is the happiest I’ve ever seen you. And considering you’re usually about three minor inconveniences away from arson, I feel like I should be concerned.”
I scanned three more books.
“Okay. We’re doing the thing. The thing where you pretend like I can’t drag stuff out of you in five minutes flat.”
My mouth stayed shut.
She huffed. “Fine, whatever. I like him, anyway.”
I looked up at her, brow lifting again.
She shrugged. “What? He feeds me. I’m getting free lunch out of this. And my best friend is weirdly happy. Kind of living for it.”
I snorted, shaking my head. “Wow. Glad this is all working out for you.”
She hopped up on the counter, swinging her legs. “I mean, yeah. It’s kind of nice. You don’t look haunted for once.”
She wasn’t wrong. Amazing what a good orgasm and a series of forbidden, questionable encounters could do for a person.
Even if I’d woken up desperate for another one, only to find an empty pillow and an annoyingly vague text on my phone telling me had to leave. But at least he’d left me a whole tied box of pastries in my fridge like some kind of silent apology. Which definitely added to the ‘less haunted’ look.
A voice cut through the store. “Delivery for Lilith Whitlock?”
Molly snorted. “Aren’t you sick of that part yet?”
I groaned. Audibly. “I’m starting to hate my own name.”
Except for when it comes out of his mouth…
Shut up.
I grabbed the package from the delivery guy, muttering my thanks.
Small. Simple. No note.
Molly grinned. “He strikes again.”
I ignored her, peeling back the tape.
Chocolates.
Fancy ones. The kind that looked handmade, artisanal, overpriced as hell. The kind that came from a shop with no price tags because if you had to ask, you couldn’t afford them.
I stared down at the box. What the hell did this man do?
Illegitimate mafia heir? The vibes were there. The presence, the power that spilled from him.
High-stakes rock paper scissors champion? Stupid? Maybe. But I’d felt his hands. Too fast. Too precise. If anyone could turn a little game into an underground career, it was him.
“Damn. He has taste.” Molly said.
I smirked, pulling out my phone.
Lilith
Thank you.
Mr Stalker
For what?
Lilith
The gift.
Mr Stalker
Oh… You’re welcome.
Molly leaned over, trying to get a glance at my screen. “What’s he saying?”
I ignored her.
Lilith
Do I get a quote to go alongside it?
Mr Stalker
‘Her body was like a violin and he was the bow. He would draw it out one note at a time to make her sing.’ - Ana?s Nin, Delta of Venus.
I frowned. Wait. What was that book?
I copied the line, pasted it into the search bar and hit enter.
The results popped up instantly, and— oh.
Erotica.
Not just any erotica. Filthy, poetic, ruin-your-life-with-a-single-sentence erotica.
I blinked. Then blinked again.
No way.
Lilith
You read erotica?
The dots appeared. Stopped. Started again.
Mr Stalker
??
I squinted at the phone.
Lilith
A wink face? Seriously?
Mr Stalker
I’m trying something new.
Lilith
Don’t.
Mr Stalker
Sorry, is this better?
Mr Stalker
??
Oh my God.
“Lilith. What did he say? Tell me?”
I didn’t look up from the screen. “Nothing. I just said thanks.”
“Liar. Your cheeks are red.”
Groaning, I grabbed the box of chocolates and shoved it into her hands. “Here. Stuff your mouth so you can’t talk.”
She snorted but ripped the lid open anyway, and thank God, because I needed a second to breathe. To cool down.
Which was exactly how I ended up in the bathroom, locking the door behind me, pressing my hands to the sink, and staring at my very pink, very guilty cheeks in the mirror.
I was so gross.
I tried to shake it off, but I was already gone. Already spiralling back to last night. To his lips on mine, the way he’d kissed me like he was starving.
To his fingers. God, his fingers. The way they’d slid inside me so easily, so perfectly, stretching me open while his other hand had held me still. The way he’d pressed his palm against my clit, just right.
And the way he’d rasped ‘good girl.’ That’d been a first. A complete first. And it’d sent molten lava straight down my spine.
Jesus. I needed to get a grip.
But then again…
If he was going to do things like that to me, then follow it up with chocolate and smut like some kind of twisted reward, maybe it was only fair I returned the favour in my own way.
He’d seen plenty at this point.
And if I was really thinking about it, he was definitely an ass man. The way he’d grabbed me last night? The growl that slipped out of him when he did?
Yeah. He liked my ass.
Fine.
I exhaled sharply, lifting my phone, flipping the camera. My pulse hammered as I hooked my fingers into the hem of my skirt, dragging it up higher, until it was just my bare ass and black lace underwear filling the frame.
I hesitated. Just for a second.
Then I snapped the picture and sent it straight to him.
My phone buzzed almost immediately.
Mr Stalker
Jesus Christ. I’m working.
Lilith
Do I get one back?
Mr Stalker
I’m working.
Lilith
Where exactly are you working?
Mr Stalker
Not happening.
Lilith
Spoilsport.
Mr Stalker
One image attached.
Big, strong, long fingers splayed slightly, veins peeking just beneath the skin, the tendons sharp and defined in a way that made my heart stop.
Oh.
I really did have a thing for hands. Odd.
I swallowed, dragging my gaze over it before my eyes flicked to the background, searching for any clue about where he was. The barest glimpse of hardwood floor was in the frame—polished, dark wood—but that told me nothing. Could be anywhere. Office? Apartment? Secret villain hideout?
Who the fuck was he, really? At this point, I’d seen more of his body than his face. And now? More of a damn floor than his face.
But honestly, what did I have to lose at this point?
I exhaled sharply.
Lilith
Will I see you again tonight?
Mr Stalker
Absolutely.
Lilith
Can’t wait.