Chapter 9 #2
Overwhelmed, I tossed the phone across the soft duvet and covered my face with my hands. I’d file the heat in my cheeks away in my Masked Man folder labeled Don’t examine too closely, ever.
By now, it was a thick folder.
I fell backwards on my bed with a huff. What the actual fuck was I doing flirting with a man who broke into my apartment less than an hour ago? And why did it make me feel more alive than I had in years?
That soft, needy part of me, the one I never thought I’d feel again, stirred deep inside. I remembered the way he’d hovered over me and held me down so easily.
And then I reminded myself that all of his restrained, gentle touches were intentional. He was dangerous. He could easily overpower me in a second if he wanted to.
He could hurt me if he wanted to.
It didn’t seem like that was his goal, though, if he were telling the truth. Plus, he’d already demonstrated he was far more willing to hurt people for me.
The thought made me burn.
Okay. Say he was right—we were tied through an artificial bond. That meant it wasn’t really attraction, or need—we didn’t know each other. We’d barely had a single conversation. I was merely responding to something I had no control over. That was all.
Yeah, right.
Who was I kidding? When I pictured his snarling masked face, there was fear, yes. But something else, too. It swirled alongside my terror and made my skin hot. I could do my best to tuck away the feelings I’d had during that forced heat, but I couldn’t completely hide from them.
And then a thought more dangerous than any I’d had before crossed my mind.
Would it be so bad to share a heat with him? Even if we knew it would end in a broken bond?
The juxtaposition of being held so tenderly by an alpha covered in the blood of the people who hurt me made an achy pulse bloom low in my belly.
Clearly, I needed to be sedated until I woke up with my head screwed on right.
But the image blended with something else—something darker, like crushed velvet. Something imagined in the deepest hours of the night, when the only company I kept was thoughts of him.
Masked fangs snarled down at me in the dim light while bright, intense blue eyes pinned me in place. He panted above me, his hands roaming all over my body, triumphant and tender.
Claiming. Owning. He would be the only one to ever touch me that way, and in exchange, he would ensure nothing ever hurt me again.
Sharp pricks zinged up my spine, and sweat beaded on my brow, almost like I was in—
No. It couldn’t be. I rolled onto my side and told myself it was only the adrenaline.
It can’t be anything else, I thought with finality. It hadn’t been for almost two years.
My stomach was too flip-floppy to eat. Before turning the light off to go to sleep, though, I peered out at that house across the bay. There was no light to keep me company tonight.
Something about that had me reaching for my phone, pulling up the Masked Man’s texts, and hitting the call button before I could think it through.
Ring!
Ring!
Oh my God, what the fuck was I doing? Why was I calling him? Who turned a texting conversation into a phone call? Psychos, that’s who.
I threw myself onto my back. What would I even say when he picked up? “Oh, sorry. I thought I was calling to order a pizza.”
Be so for real.
Ring!
Wait, was he going to pick up? I hadn’t considered how embarrassing it would be if he ignored me. Oh my God, what if he didn’t want me to call him at all? What if he didn’t care? He’d seemed like he did, a little. Maybe. He’d broken into my home to talk to me, but now he wouldn’t even—
“Hello, sweetheart,” that smooth, deep voice finally answered. His words were hushed, and crickets chirped in the background.
“Um. Hi.” Fucking hell, try to sound a bit more like a teenager with a crush next time. I cleared my throat. “Hi.”
He chuckled. “Miss me already?”
Ugh. “No,” I said, rolling my eyes. “That’s not why I called.”
“Well, then. I’m listening.”
I scooted down so I lay flat with my head on the pillow.
Why I’d called him was a very good question, but he didn’t need to know that.
“I, um. Well.” Quickly, I said the first thing that came to mind.
“Oh. I didn’t tell him you were here. My boss, I mean.
I didn’t say anything about you at all. So.
You don’t need to, like—I don’t know—do whatever you were planning to do if I did. ”
Silence stretched, and I couldn’t help but fill it. “He’s a good person.” Realizing I sounded like I was begging, I took a breath. “A good dad. I like this family. So don’t…”
“Kill them?” he finished for me.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “That.”
The line was silent for a beat. I couldn’t gauge it, but kept my mouth shut lest I let it slip that a child had witnessed him climbing up the balcony and he should probably work on his stealth techniques.
“Just so we’re clear,” he began, “I don’t hurt innocent people, Max.
” His voice was calm and assured. “I don’t even hurt people who are probably murderers, or abusers, or traffickers.
My research is thorough. And I certainly,” he paused for emphasis, “certainly wouldn’t hurt anyone who’d merely caught me being negligent. I don’t believe in collateral damage.”
“Oh.” I twisted a loose thread from my duvet around my finger. “Okay. That’s good, then.”
“You don’t have to worry about them, Max. They’re safe, and so are you.”
I blinked away the burn in my eyes. Tonight was just full of cranking the tap on newly discovered emotions.
“You should get some sleep, sweetheart,” he said after a few moments of silence. “You look exhausted.”
My heart raced. I sat back up, peering around the room. “What do you mean? How do you know what I look like?”
“Just wanted to make sure you were tucked in safely for the night. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
The line disconnected.
I nearly tripped on my way over to the window, pulling aside the curtains to peer down into the garden.
I had to squint in the near-dark, again cursing the loss of my glasses.
Small solar lanterns were staked along the perimeter where the yard tumbled down onto the rocky shoreline, illuminating the way.
And there, barely visible in the gloom, a tall, broad-silhouetted man stood below my window, like some kind of gothic yard art.
Just wanted to make sure you were tucked in safely for the night.
The figure lifted one hand, as if to wave, before melting into the shadows.
My heart beat rapidly in my chest, the evening’s events all rushing in at once. Was he really watching out for me? Making sure I was safe? Could I even trust anything he said?
No. Yes. Maybe. Fuck, I was certifiable. I should be checked in somewhere for even considering that a stalker had good intentions.
And yet… for all that my breath quickened and pulse raced, the buzzing unease from earlier settled.
For long minutes I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling while thinking about him. That needy, achy beast inside me purred low in my belly, like a big cat stretching as it awoke.
Slowly, like sap dripping from a tree trunk, my thoughts from earlier seeped back in.
The Masked Man, frightening and soothing in equal measure, stared down at me while he pinned my wrists above my head, just like he had earlier that night.
He slipped a hand down my front, teasing my nipples and making my belly shiver before alighting the very tips of his fingers on my chubbed-up cock, tracing a pattern up and down, up and down.
Gently, so I only felt the barest touch, he brushed his knuckles along my hardening length until I was erect, trapped in place by the towel held down by his knees on either side of my hips. All I could do was squirm beneath him, letting out breathy gasps while I sought more of his touch.
My eyes fluttered shut, and my body reacted as if he really were there, touching me. Arching up, I ground my palm into my hard cock, a wet spot already forming on my cotton briefs.
Slick. For the first time in two years, I was slick.
With a gasp, I scrambled in my bedside drawer for my trusty vibrating dildo, grateful I wouldn’t have to deal with the rigamarole of lubing the thing up. I tossed off the covers, cocked one leg up, and pulled aside my briefs just enough to align the cool, silicone tip with my hole, before—
“Yes!” I cried, ankles crossed around his back while he drove into me. Oh, God, he felt so good. So thick and right and deep. I clawed at his shoulders, begging him for more as he grasped my hips, tilted them just right, and fucked the head of his cock into my breeding gland until I saw stars.