Chapter Nine
Appa
@AppaPie: You don’t have to sneak in. Use this code for the door. Don’t make me wait.
It took a couple of days of going back and forth in my mind to fully process what happened the other night with Rook.
It left me sore, but processing how it happened has been worse.
A phantom ache pangs between my legs, reminding me that I’m not the same.
I hope Rook wasn’t a one-time fling. If he were, then I’d feel foolish for letting him take that part of me, and that nice boy at that party would be disappointed in me.
It was a terrible party—the first one I ever went to in college.
And the last. The floors of the frat house were sticky under my shoes, and the sour stench of spilled beer nearly made me gag.
But I met a guy that night. When he started to approach me, I felt giddy because no one else had talked to me all night.
He was cute, dark-haired, tall, maybe a little dorky, but instead of making a move, he told me to go.
Like I had the word ‘virgin’ stamped on my forehead, and he knew my purpose for being there.
He embarrassed me in our quiet conversation, but damn, he was right.
I feel like I did his gesture of kindness an injustice by letting a random person take it like it was always his to have.
I should have lost it that night at the party to the random guy whose name I can’t even remember.
At least I would’ve known what he looked like.
But it doesn’t matter now. I summoned Rook here again because I want a redo where I’ll at least enjoy having him in me the whole time.
I know he can hack my devices, but he doesn’t need to.
I gave him a unique code to use for my front door to save him the trouble…
and to keep it locked and unhacked. While I feel safe in my neighborhood and secure in my data’s privacy, I have a lot of followers and some who could hurt me.
I need to keep myself safe from those people. Not Rook.
@Rook: Don’t need it.
I pick up my phone to investigate his message.
He dissed my damn code like it was nothing.
My palms sweat. He doesn’t understand the safety aspect of this for me. Three dots appear as if he’s typing, but then they disappear. My stomach drops as if the lock clicked open. Suddenly, another message pops up.
@Rook: Don’t act like this is yours to control.
Obviously.
That’s the point. I’m not in control of something, and it’s a relief.
There’s no filtering or captioning in our dynamic.
He sees me for who I am—a privileged girl looking to be ruined by a complete stranger.
Still, someday I’ll throw that back at him.
Someday when I know he’s in too deep to run.
When we trust each other enough that I might look forward to how he might punish me for talking back.
He’s not the type to send an ETA, but something in my gut tells me our messaging stint earlier could bring him back.
He’ll want to teach me a lesson for trying to control him, right?
Or perhaps he has another girl in his sights who doesn’t press him the way I do.
He probably rolled his eyes at my message and decided that I’m too eager to bother with, anyway.
Maybe I wasn’t fun enough the other night.
I inhale a jagged breath. Because he didn’t know my lack of body count, he could think I wasn’t playful. Or feral enough. I’m not a sexual goddess yet, but I’d love for him to turn me into one. A terrifying thought intrudes on my mind.
He doesn’t need the code because there won’t be a second time.
I head for the shower anyway, hoping I manifested him into showing up tonight.
I’m usually a night showerer, so I clip my naturally curly hair back and run my fingers over the baby hairs sticking to the back of my neck from the humidity.
I reach for my vanilla-gourmand body wash.
It’s a delicious scent, and if Rook shows tonight, he’d better devour me.
And the truth is, I hope he does.
I moisturize with lotion of the same scent and unclip my hair, giving my curls a quick refreshing spray.
Other girls might be anxious at the idea of a strange man barging in without their knowledge and fucking them, but not me.
Even my stomach stays calm. Of course, part of me is a little nervous about what he might do.
He’s grabbed me in the darkness, threatened to do more, and took things further. How much further could he push it?
I’ve waited in the living room for hours in the dark. I don’t know if he’s coming tonight, but I’m ready. Much more this time. Midnight ticks by… Still nothing. And I’m losing hope that I took too much control over his plan for me. I maniacally double-check my DMs, security cameras, the time.
Half past midnight…
Then, a quarter to one.
I don’t bother watching videos on my phone. The house is quiet, with just the buzz of a nearby fan and the usual city noise to fill the silence. I curse myself for waiting up for a stranger, risking my healthy sleeping habits for the fantasy of a mysterious influencer to invade my home.
Finally, the sound of a car door slamming in the eerie silence makes my head snap up, and I simultaneously get a notification from my camera that someone is by the garage door. In a hoodie and sweats, the figure has to be him.
The good him.
I rush to the foyer. The front door swings open without a code being entered, like he still hacked it to prove he could.
Rook is Rook. Face impossible to make out in the dark.
I loosen the belt of my robe and let it slip down my bare body.
Rook lets out a light groan and abruptly picks me up, holding me by my thighs.
His warm hands sear their prints into my skin.
He backs me up against the firm wall hard enough to make me wince and lightly yip at the pain in my back.
Just then, he crashes his lips onto mine. They’re plump, and his tongue presses into my mouth and finds mine. He tastes of bitter coffee, giving him away. He stayed up on purpose to do this.
Holy shit, this is our first kiss, and I’m worried about his sleeping habits!
After all he’s taken, who needed the kiss more, Rook or the person behind him?
It’s out of character, but I still moan out into his mouth.
He bumps me into the wall again as if to tell me that this isn’t supposed to be fun or hot.
But, fuck me, it is. I shove his hood down, unsure if I should, but I tangle my fingers in his hair, anyway.
It’s thick, with short, coarse, tight coils on the top of his head.
I know he has a light, maybe slightly olive skin tone from his videos.
I wonder if his ethnicity is something Mediterranean, maybe?
“Upstairs,” I moan. His lips trail down my neck and over my collarbones, and heat floods my chest. This is already much more sensual and drawn out than our first time.
I like to think he can’t hold back either.
He plants kisses and nips down my chest until they find my breasts.
I sharply inhale a breath as he sucks on my nipple and then tugs at it with his teeth.
“Ah,” I cry out in pain. He repeats the gesture on the other one.
“Ow.” I wince, but my back still arches, needing him.
I want to scream, ‘Please do that again!’
He moves his hands to cup my ass, and he carries me upstairs, knowing where to find my bedroom after his previous visits here. For the first time, his pierced nipples brush against my own, cold, hard metal colliding with my softness.
You wanted that in particular, Appa.
He walks through the threshold of my bedroom and drops me on my bed. I bounce from the sudden force, settling in the middle of my mattress with my curls splayed across the comforter in a messy halo.
His voice cuts through the haze. “Roll,” he instructs.
I do as he says, lying flat on my duvet.
I feel a couple of his demanding fingers find the wetness between my legs, and I lift my hips in anticipation.
He drops his fingers and uses his wide hand to press my back down into my mattress.
I turn my head to the side and exhale. My eyelids drop, waiting for the intrusion I’ve fantasized about since the other night.
The bed frame creaks, and the mattress shifts below me as Rook’s weight makes it sink.
He rests his hardness on the curve of my ass.
Holy. He’s long.
“Keep your legs together,” he says. I clamp my thighs closed, and he stretches me with one swift motion.
I gasp out from the sudden fullness. It pinches at first, but I’m warmed up this time.
It’s mostly just pleasure, and the mild sting dissipates.
“Fuck,” he softly groans out. He feels thicker this way than the first time, and in this position, I must be so much tighter. His bare thighs brush against mine.
Hmm, he undressed this time.
He thrusts, withdrawing almost all the way and slamming in as far as he can go.
Over and over. I lift my shoulders to sneak a look back, but Rook catches me.
“Stay flat, Appa.” His large hand presses my head back into the mattress, where the scent of detergent floods my nose.
But he doesn’t move it and thrusts even harder, holding me down.
I know he would stop if I wanted him to, but I don’t.
I sense his body tense up like it did last time right before he spilled inside me, and the change in his body language is all I need.
I let go, clenching as my orgasm rocks through my whole body.
He groans again, and his movements slow.
I feel three or four spurts land deep inside me and smile to myself.
I’m wrecking him too. I can feel it in the way he lets go after I do.
He leans his sweaty torso against my back, and his warm breath cascades over my shoulders.
He doesn’t move for a minute, and this is the closest we’ve had to normal intimacy.
He moves his hand and gently rolls me under him. Before I can open my eyes, he’s on top of me, supporting his weight on his arms, and he returns his lips to mine. We’re chest to chest, my nipples grazing his pierced ones again, completely unraveling. He nibbles my lower lip, and I giggle.
“I want more,” I mumble against his lips when he pulls away. I hadn’t realized my arms were tangled around his neck. I wrap my legs around his trunk, clinging to him desperately like I would never let go. I grind against him, urging him back in, but he doesn’t move his hips in return.
“Soon,” he whispers. He starts to sit up, and my limbs fall like dead weight onto the bed.
“Don’t go,” I say, feeling the bed shift as he stands.
He pulls on his sweatpants, and I can hear the material rustling up his legs.
I wish I could see his outline through the material.
“That’s not how this works.” His voice is quiet as ever, but it’s tainted with something…
I’d like to think it’s longing. A thread of hope that this is just as real for him as it is for me.
I’ve always been a little rebellious inside, and I want to ask again if he’ll stay.
Not for me. But for him. To have sex and be one again.
I can be overbearingly Southern if I need to be, but Rook wouldn’t tolerate that.
I watch in the faint moonlight as his silhouette moves toward the door to leave.
He looks back, and even though I can’t make out his face, I hope he’s contemplating staying with me.
“Night,” he whispers just loud enough for me to hear.
“No,” I cry out as he shuts the door behind him. I flop over on my bed, my tears soaking into my pillow. My phone lights up, and I know it’s a notification from my cameras that he’s leaving. What the fuck is happening?
If this is all our relationship is supposed to be, then why does it hurt so damn bad when he’s not here?