Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
KIARA
By the time I finish work for the day, I feel like a zombie. It’s been hard to focus on anything but him . I was shocked when I read my name on that note last night, but I don’t even know why because he had my fucking license—now he knows everything about me.
He knows my name, knows where I live. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knows what company I work for at this point. At least I work from home, so I don’t have to worry about him following me there, but I’m still stuck in this house most days, and he’s made it perfectly clear that he can—and will —come and go whenever he pleases.
Tossing my headset on my desk, I lean back in my chair and rub my eyes, trying not to let some strange man get the better of me and fuck up my whole life.
That’s easier said than done, especially when all I want, deep down, is for him to come back, to rob me of everything I own, to claim me on every surface of this house until my very being belongs to him completely. I want him to wreck my whole life, but, at the same time, the more rational part of me understands just how dangerous this is. He’s a complete stranger, and what he did was illegal .
This whole situation is fucked up.
Pushing away from my desk, I get up to go lie in bed, but I’m greeted by the basket of dirty clothes I purposely put there this morning so I wouldn’t forget after work. Laundry is the last thing I want to do right now, but I know if I don’t get it done this minute, it won’t get done at all.
I snatch the basket off the bed and trudge downstairs to the laundry room, mumbling a string of curses as I go. I put the clothes into the washing machine, then I grab a basket of clean clothes and go back upstairs.
My phone was missing when I woke up this morning, and I know I didn’t misplace it. I remember setting it on my nightstand after I threw the pie away and came back upstairs last night.
He was somewhere in this house, and the fact that I can’t find him drives me insane. But the knowledge that he keeps taking everything from me makes me so wet I can barely stand it.
Sighing, I haul the laundry basket onto the bed and start folding. I probably should have called the police last night, but then I would have to file a report, and then Grandma for sure would know what happened, and I’m just not going there.
Also, there’s the issue of me not wanting to do anything about it because I’ve finally—inadvertently—found someone to bring my darkest desires to life.
I can’t stop thinking about the way his hands felt on my body, how he claimed me with his mouth and teeth. No other man has ever been able to make me feel the things my masked stranger did, and I know it’s only because of my deviancy.
And, if I’m not mistaken, I’d say he was just as turned on at the thought of robbing me as I was of being robbed. There’s no way he was that hard just from me; he’d only seen me a few minutes before.
It’s all so confusing—and that’s the part that’s bothering me so much.
I could press charges if I wanted.
But I won’t because I want him to come back.
I squeeze my legs together and shake my head to rid myself of the thought of him, but it’s no help. I can’t stop thinking about him.
I haven’t even seen his damn face.
“Hell,” I mutter as I drop the laundry basket to the floor and jump into bed. Lying on my back, I pull down my shorts, spread my legs, and relax. I’m already so wet, but the thought of him breaking in here again is almost enough to make me come.
Almost.
I flinch when my fingers find my wet sex.
“Fuck,” I breathe. I rub my nipple through the thin fabric of my t-shirt, the sensation going straight to my clit.
As good as it feels, it’s not enough.
I want him .