26. Presley
Presley
My breathing hitches. His mechanical voice echoes inside my head.
We aren’t done, Presley. Not even close.
My name on his lips, even though he’s using something to disguise his voice, sounds so damn sexy.
I must be losing my mind.
His hand slides over my hip and slowly across my stomach.
I gasp, my breath fluttering past my lips.
“If you want me to stop, just say the word ‘book’ and I’ll stop. No questions asked.”
My breathing accelerates.
“Understand, Presley?”
I nod.
“I need to hear you say it.”
“I understand.”
“What’s the word for me to stop?”
“Book,” I breathe.
“Very good.” His fingers lightly trail up my stomach and between my cleavage before resting around my neck.
“I suspect you won’t use it,” he says. “I can tell how much you want me.”
My pulse pounds against my neck. I know he feels it.
“How do you know that?”
A deep, dark chuckle hits my ears, making me shiver.
“Oh, little bookworm. I know you better than you think.”
I swallow audibly, waiting.
His other hand glides down my sweater, between my breasts. A frustrated groan escapes as I push my chest out, desperate for his touch.
“You give me signs.” His hand stops at the hem of my sweater.
I wait, sightless, hoping he’ll touch me.
I shouldn’t want him to. But I do.
His hand slides beneath my sweater and I gasp at the feel of his fingers against my skin. I’m not sure when he pulled off the gloves, but I’m not complaining.
Goosebumps rise in his wake as his fingertips slowly glide over my heated skin.
“You like me touching you, don’t you?” he whispers.
I nod, unable to speak. Not when my mouth is this dry. Not when I’m caught beneath his spell.
Then his hand glides to my cleavage... and over the bra covering my right breast.
A moan slips out as he cups and caresses my breast.
“I’ve waited too long for this,” he murmurs.
His words register, but then he dips his hand inside my bra and pulls my breast out. Cool air hits my skin as he pulls my sweater up, exposing me.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he whispers.
And then he’s pinching my nipple, making me jerk back against him. A dark laugh spills from him, turning me on even more.
He releases my throat, his other hand yanking my other breast free. Then he’s pinching my nipples, making me squirm, before lightly brushing his thumbs over them. He repeats this until I’m grinding against the hardness poking against my ass.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “Bet your pussy’s soaked.”
I whimper in response.
And then, he yanks my leggings and panties down to my ankles, my little booties stopping them from going any further.
One hand slides through my folds as he murmurs how wet I am, before moving to my clit, massaging it in circles. Slow and then fast.
I go boneless, slumping against him as he continues pinching and lightly teasing my hard nipple while rubbing my clit.
“Fuck,” I whisper. “You’re making me crazy.”
He lifts me off my feet, and I let out a startled sound.
He sets me down, then bends me over. My hands touch cool glass.
“Stay there or I’ll stop.”
A finger slides inside me, and I moan.
“What are you—”
He sticks another one inside me, cutting off my words.
Then his thumb works my clit while he moves his two fingers in and out of me, and I forget how to talk.
He works me into a frenzy, bringing me closer and closer to the edge.
“Who’s this Hades person?” he growls.
I clamp my lips together, not saying anything.
He works me harder, and my legs begin to shake, the orgasm looming closer.
“No answer, huh?” He fingers me faster, the wet sounds from my pussy filling the small, quiet room.
“Oh, God. I’m gonna—”
He yanks his fingers from me.
Shock, then fury, whirl inside me.
“Asshole,” I seethe.
“So temperamental.” He chuckles, gently teasing my clit. “Answer my question and I’ll give you what you want.”
I remain stubbornly silent, waiting.
He slides his fingers inside me again.
And though I try to resist, his fingers drag me closer to the edge before he says, “Who the hell is Hades? Your boyfriend?”
I don’t know how to answer that.
I mean, he’s not.
Yet there’s a ridiculous part that wants the brooding man to be my boyfriend.
And now, I’m feeling guilty because I’m letting another man touch me.
He keeps working me as the doubts roll through my mind.
He shifts, his lips kissing my neck.
That smell... haven’t I smelled that on Hades before?
Before I can answer myself, he works me into a shaking frenzy. Seconds before the orgasm hits, he pulls his fingers free.
“Damn you,” I say through clenched teeth. “I don’t know what Hades and I are.”
“Hmm.” He begins teasing me again, thumb rolling over my clit. “You don’t know, huh?”
“No.”
He slides two fingers inside me. “Do you want him to be your boyfriend?”
What’s the correct answer?
It’s hard to think with him touching me like this.
And do I admit that I am crushing hard on Hades, a man I hardly know, while a masked man fingers me?
His fingers move faster. My pussy clenches around him, not wanting him to stop.
“Answer me!”
“Yes,” I wail.
He growls and rubs my clit harder. My body convulses, the orgasm slamming over me. “Yes.”
The tremors go on and on as I slump against the cool glass.
“Good girl,” he whispers.
The blindfold is removed from my head, and I blink, reality intruding when I take in the festival below. Bright lights. Happy screams. People moving around, eating and drinking. Kids playing games.
The thud of his boots moving away from me snaps my attention back to this room.
I blink rapidly.
I’m in the reading room, boobs hanging out of my bra beneath my bunched-up shirt. My pants and panties are around my ankles.
“Wait.” I hurriedly shove my boobs back into my bra, yank my panties and pants up, then pull my shirt down as I stand.
His footsteps thud down the stairs.
I take off running, chasing him. “Hey!”
I reach the stairs.
Empty.
I race down them, yelling, “Halloween Hannibal!”
Nothing.
I run through the aisles to the front of the store.
It’s empty.
I move around it, embarrassment and shame filling me.
Not only did I let a masked man finger me, but what if a customer would’ve come in and found us? Or robbed the place? Margaret would never forgive me.
I search the entire store.
He’s not there.
I go back to the front and realize the door is locked.
“That bastard.” I unlock it and look around the store again. “How the fuck do you keep doing that?”
I hurry to the front window.
People pass by outside, most dressed in costumes, completely oblivious to the fact that I just let my masked stalker finger me upstairs.
I press both hands against my burning face.“What the fuck am I doing?”
My phone vibrates in my back pocket, startling me.
“Jesus!”
I yank it out.
A text notification is on the screen.
My stomach drops when I see the name.
Hades.
For several seconds, I only stare at it.
Then I open it.
Hades: Find my next book yet?
Guilt crashes through me. My pulse still hasn't slowed from what happened tonight.
I type.
Me: Actually, I was working on that when something interrupted me.
The typing bubbles appear.
Hades: Something?
I turn around, looking at the stairs.
My fingers hover over the screen.
Me: It's complicated.
His response comes almost immediately.
Hades: Should I be worried?
A bitter laugh escapes me.
If only he knew.
Me: Probably not.
Three dots bounce, then his message appears.
Hades: You know you can call me if you need me.
My smile fades.
I stare at the words. If you need me.
Less than five minutes ago, I stood upstairs with another man's hand on my breasts and between my legs.
Now Hades is checking on me.
Guilt settles heavily in my stomach. “This is so fucked up,” I whisper to myself.
I lower myself onto the stool behind the counter.
My phone vibrates again.
Hades: Presley?
I bite my lip, debating what I should say.
Finally, I type the only reassurance I can manage.
Me: I'm okay. Promise.
I hesitate and then type another message.
Me: And yes. I have another book for you.
His answer appears.
Hades: Good.
I smile despite myself.
Then another message arrives.
Hades: I'll come get it tomorrow.
My stomach flips.
Oh, God.
Will my face give me away?
Will he know what happened tonight?
It’s stupid of me to feel this guilty.
It’s not like Hades is my boyfriend.
But I can’t stop it from flooding through me.
Because apparently one terrifying man occupying my thoughts isn’t enough.
I need two.
I release a long sigh, looking around the bookstore. It’s quiet. Empty.
What happened upstairs almost seems like a figment of my imagination.
Except I can still feel the cold mask beneath my fingertips.
Feel his calloused fingers touching me, bringing me to the most powerful orgasm I’ve had in months.
Smell the cedar, smoke, and clean scent that rolled from him.
Once again, the familiarity of that scent hits me.
Could it be?
Then laughter erupts outside, breaking through it.
No. It’s not Hades.
After all, the masked man was hell-bent on finding out who Hades is and what he is to me.
I look at the clock. Seven fifty-five.
“Shit.”
I slide off the stool.
Being chased through a bookstore by a masked stalker destroys my sense of time.
I spot the book still lying on the aisle floor.
I hurry over and retrieve it. I’m about to put it back when I stop.
The masked man didn't knock it down. He was standing by the door when I picked it up.
I slowly look toward the dark shelves.
A chill runs over my skin.
He had to have been inside before I heard it fall.
Which means while I was sitting in the staff room staring at Hades's name on my phone... he was already here.
And I have no idea how long he'd been watching me.
“Oh, I'm so fucked.”