Chapter 9 #3
Back in my body, I angled the toy so that it, too, jammed into my closed breeding gland on every thrust. I hadn’t prepped myself, so I was tight, but imagining it was his cock entering me, stretching me to my limits, made the burn all the more delicious.
Outside of heat, the pressure on my breeding gland bordered on painful, but all it took was imagining him there, pumping his cum into my womb, and the sensation tipped into lightning flashes of pleasure.
Circling my thumb and pointer finger around my weeping cock, I stroked the tip to match my pace. Throwing my head back on the pillow, my mouth dropped open while I imagined hot kisses trailing down my neck and cool leather wrapping around my waist to hold me in place while he—
A twig snapped outside. I inhaled a quick breath and yanked my hands out of my briefs, eyes flying wide open.
Night insects hummed. The lake, calm this evening, lapped gently against the shore.
Oh, fuck. I’d left the window open.
I held my breath, trembling from the sensations triggered by my thoughts of him. Was he still outside? Could he hear what I was doing?
Could he see what I was doing?
My heart thudded. Skin aflame, my nipples pebbled when I pictured him standing beneath my window.
I should close it. Immediately. I should go take a cold shower to wash away everything I’d felt tonight.
But even if I did… I feared it was too late. Like a runaway train, he tore through my mind, forging solid steel tracks I’d never be able to remove.
Slowly, as if afraid to disturb the calm night, I reached down and found the button to turn on the vibrator. I pushed it once. My insides clenched around the toy, belly fizzing. I pushed it again, and again and again until it buzzed on high, the blunt tip tucked right up against my gland.
My eyes rolled, and I tumbled back against the pillows while the fantasy in my mind became even darker and more depraved.
The Masked Man leaned against a tree outside facing my window, zipper down, gripping his hard cock. He cursed when he saw me push the vibrator back inside, glistening from my slick.
Matching my pace, he stroked himself to the sound of the toy fucking my wet hole, wishing he were the one making me feel full and used. I cried out, and he slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the echoing grunts he couldn’t hold back.
We took each other higher and higher, a call and answer, one leading the other hand in hand up, up, up the cliff until we tumbled off in each other’s arms.
I fisted my cock and came, insides trembling and ropes of cum streaking my belly. His orgasm swiftly followed, nearly doubled over from the force of it.
I blinked, dazed and confused as my fantasy and reality blended, and then separated.
Panting, I wiped the sweat from my brow and propped myself up on an elbow, assessing what I’d done. My stomach was coated in sticky cum, and my sheets needed changing. I hadn’t even stopped to lay a towel down first.
And I’d done it all while imagining my stalker watching me. What the actual fuck?
But… I felt so, so good. Loose and sated, I was more in touch with myself than I’d been in years. I’d needed that—to be back in control of my own pleasure, even if it were temporary.
The pleasure haze passed as quickly as it arrived. This isn’t your body preparing for heat, I told myself. It was both a consolation and a disappointment. I wanted to go back to the way things were before, but I also sort of hoped I’d wake in the morning to find this had all been a trippy dream.
Surely, the presence of one person couldn’t jumpstart me into a heat, right?
“Are you sure about that?” the Masked Man had whispered. “Because your scent says something different, sweetheart.”
Leaves rustled outside. Startled from my spiraling thoughts, I held my breath and stood, tiptoeing over to the window to peer down into the garden, right where he’d lurked before.
It was empty. There was no looming figure or glint of icy-blue eyes in the darkness. Just still, peaceful calm.
For the second time that night, disappointment left me feeling hollow and empty. In a daze, I cleaned myself up, changed the sheets, flicked off the lamp, and tumbled into bed, facing the window.
It was ridiculous, dangerous, and even downright suicidal to entertain the possibility of seeing the Masked Man again, let alone sharing a heat with him.
And yet… the certainty I felt in declining his offer was slipping further and further away, obscured by the encroaching fog of lust and curiosity until I could barely see it at all.
If that solo session was anything to go by, it would at least be a fucking great time.
I wasn’t sure how long I lay there in the dark, thinking about him; about the fear he stirred inside me alongside the lust.
But when my thoughts eventually settled, it wasn’t either of those things that finally lulled me to sleep. No, it was the image of him waiting out there in the dark, like an ever-watchful predator, that made me feel safe enough to drift off. Or was he an ever-watchful protector, instead?
Maybe, just maybe, he could be both.
There was something seriously, seriously wrong with me.