Chapter Eight #2
No one’s ever felt this good before. I knew at that fucking party she’d be unreal to fuck, but I want more than that.
“Go take a warm bath with the salts I sent you. And lock the damn door,” I quietly say, gently pulling out of her.
I fasten my jeans and leave her bent over the chair, but allow Robby one more light caress down her backside as if it’s an apology for the roughness.
Her skin is warmer now, and I’m sure the cheeks of her face must be burning right now from her intense orgasm and from being pressed into the cushion.
Have I ever made a girl come that hard?
Turning to the door, I close my eyes. I should stay. Take care of her. Clean her up. But that’s not Rook.
Maybe part of me was hoping she’d chase after me and want to know who I am, but looking over my shoulder, I don’t think she’s moved a muscle.
I almost turn back like a magnetic pull is drawing me to her, and I fantasize about picking her up and taking her upstairs to the bathtub before kissing every inch of her.
But she needs space after that and wouldn’t be ready to hear about how I’ve been watching her for years.
I make it to my car within seconds, feeling like I have to get out of here before someone comes after me.
But something makes my stomach churn as soon as I am seated in the driver’s seat…
I just filled her with my DNA. If she didn’t want it like this, she could easily have a rape kit conducted, and I’d be cooked.
No, she enjoyed it and came on my dick.
She didn’t tell me to stop or fight.
She wanted this.
It’s all going to be fine.
…I think.
Appa
As soon as I hear the front door close and sense I’m alone again, I straighten out and rip the sleep mask from my eyes.
My heart is racing, heat flooding me from head to toe.
The sleep mask is damp from my tears…it shouldn’t have gone that way.
I should have told him I was a virgin, but I didn’t want to scare Rook away.
He didn’t seem like the type of guy who would have patience with a virgin.
My first time should have been sensual and candlelit, not blindfolded and quick, but I wanted him to be the first.
I always want the wrong things.
Straightening my stance with quivering legs causes a gush of fluid to run down the inside of my thighs. Pressing my legs together adds a new sting where they meet.
That just happened. For real.
I let a stranger I know nothing about come into my home and do that to me.
He claims I could have stopped him, but I didn’t want him to, even after the sudden entry that I know I’ll feel tomorrow.
My body shudders. That wasn’t just a sting, but excruciating pain that I never expected.
He felt gigantic inside me, and it turned to pleasure fast. All I know is how much more I want.
For once, I’m hyperaware of the dull ache of how empty my body feels without him, and the Rook addiction has just skyrocketed in intensity.
He’s right about needing a bath.
The damn bath salts were delivered earlier with a note on the gift receipt:
You’ll need this—R.
He cared enough to ask if I was protected first and to send me something for aftercare, knowing he’d be rough.
And he caressed my back. I don’t know how he knew I needed that at first, but it was oddly comforting.
Probably because he’s warm, and I’m anemic and forever cold.
Then, the way he held still until I was ready was eerie.
How would a perfect stranger be able to read my body that well, or was I that obvious?
I flip the lights on. It looks like nothing happened, yet I’m forever marked now.
My home looks untouched even though an intruder was in here looking for me just minutes ago.
I enter my bedroom, giving side-eye to where he first grabbed me.
It was a month ago, and I’ve knowingly let him back in here and encouraged it. I lightly rub the side of my neck.
I hope he comes back.
It occurs to me I haven’t locked the door. As I step through the house, I turn the lights on as I go just in case he’s still here.
Am I hoping he is?
For another round?
I crack the front door open, and it’s clear. No mysterious cars parked in sight, no dark silhouettes standing in the shadows. I close the door and lock it. I double-check the garage door and back sliding doors to make sure they’re locked.
My lower half aches as I move back upstairs to my bathroom.
I turn the water to the tub on a little cooler than my normal shower temperature and pour the salts into the water.
They’re lavender-scented, and I wonder if he chose that specific type to ease any stress from tonight’s events.
It went by fast. What did I expect? Post-sex cuddles?
But that’s not Rook’s style. There was softness to him, though.
Rook has to be just an online presence, and there’s a real, layered person deep down.
Drawing my top over my head, I notice the red marks on my hips—a silent signature of Rook.
Those will bruise.
I have a swim collaboration photo shoot in a week, but I’m sure they can do body makeup if needed without raising too many eyebrows.
I take a clean towel and wipe the mess between my thighs.
It’s pink and gross. But hot, too? A mix of our fluids and evidence that my late-bloomer self is no longer a virgin.
Stepping into the bath, I wince when the warm water hits the tenderness between my thighs that Rook left behind.
The water is a sharp reminder of how raw and inexperienced I am.
He couldn’t have known, and despite how it played out, I’m not mad either.
I can’t deny the part of me that craves him to come back and do it again. For longer next time.
I’d love it. Him shoving his cock down my throat until my eyes watered. Until I couldn’t breathe…
My finger grazes my clit under the water just the way I like it before dipping lower into my pussy, still full of him. I wince but can’t stop.
Please come fill me up again, Rook. Or whoever you are.