17. Sam
Sam
My pussy is broken. Completely and utterly broken.
I’m having withdraws from Shadow, but yet I cannot come.
Useless, like a gorgeous car without an engine, a book with blank pages, or a bank with no money.
It got a taste of what it wants and now it’s a picky little shit throwing a tantrum because I took away its favorite toy.
It doesn’t want my fingers, the shower head (which I can’t really blame her because the pressure in this hotel sucks), or the vibrator I shoved in my bag.
Apparently, a vibrator is considered an essential item when packing a getaway bag to escape home and hide from a stalker, who might or might not be an ex-boyfriend.
Shadow won’t give me anything about his identity, so I won’t be home next time he shows up in the middle of the night to fuck me awake.
Do I wish to be woken to him between my thighs?
More than anything, actually. I still haven’t sat down and tried to process that information.
There’s something insanely wrong with me.
I just need to confirm whether he is Tyler.
If he gives me that much, I’ll be his dirty little whore again.
See? Insane.
We are all born and wired a little differently.
How boring would this world be if we were all the same?
If we were all normal? What is considered normal anyway?
Who decides that? Maybe I’m the normal one and everyone else is just lying to themselves and settling for less than what they truly desire because someone told them being miserable is just part of life.
Do what makes you happy. If that is being claimed by a complete stranger in a mask, so be it.
Go for it. Bend over and take it like a good girl…
or boy…with a smile on your face and shove normalcy up anyone’s ass who tells you it’s wrong.
I have to be at the spa in the morning, and I cannot stop tossing and turning.
Shadow has taken over my life. He’s all I think about.
Will it still be this way when he reveals himself?
I really hope so. If not, life will go on.
I do not accept misery as a daily emotion.
Life is too damn short. I’ve kept my phone off this entire time.
Even when I went to work yesterday. I half expected Shadow to find me here.
Kind of disappointing, if you ask me. He needs to go back to stalking school.
I turn my phone on, but keep the location off.
Not that I think it would save me. My heart thumps and my hellcat purrs when I read the missed messages from him.
So demanding, possessive, and obsessed, like he’s losing his mind.
I have half a mind to tell him where I’m at so I can scratch this damn itch, but I’m a strong-ish woman. I can hold out for longer than this.
Hidden_Embers: Unless you show me your hands, I will assume you are my ex-boyfriend, and he gets no pussy from me. Not even a peek.
Phantom_Shadow: Little wolf, I am going to punish you so fucking hard for pulling away from me. Keep your phone on. You’ll get your proof tomorrow. Sleep tight, pup. You’ll need your strength.
If he thinks he can just send me a picture of a random hand, he’s an idiot.
I leave my phone on anyway, and finally feel like I can go to sleep now.
The possibility of Shadow knowing where I am and coming for me is calming me for some odd reason.
If he shows up, I can just pretend for one more night that his identity isn’t bothering me.
* * *
“Hey Sam,” Emily hesitates when she steps into the break room. “This is super awkward, but have you heard from Xander today?”
I stare at her for a few moments too long, dumbfounded. “No, why would I?”
“I stayed at his house last night, and when I woke up, he was gone. He won’t respond to any of my calls or texts. It’s weird.”
I swallow hard. “That is weird. I’ll let you know if I hear from him, but Em, I don’t talk to him,” I assure her. If he turns out to be Shadow, I owe her an apology. A huge one.
She walks out of the break room, only to poke her head back in a couple of minutes later. “You have a walk-in. I showed her to your room and told her you would be in shortly.”
What a better way to keep your mind off your sex devil than to keep busy.
My phone vibrates three times on the way to my room.
It’s usually on silent, but I’m eager to receive whatever proof Shadow is going to show me.
Unable to wait, I peek at my notifications before walking inside. Every single one is from Shadow.
Phantom_Shadow: It’s insulting that you thought any of these fuckheads could be me. Which one are you afraid of? I’m assuming it’s the douche with the finger tattoo since you are so obsessed with looking at my hands.
When I see the proof he sends me, I slap my hand over my mouth to muffle my shriek of horror and fumble my phone, almost dropping it. I manage a weak smile to a passing client and coworker.
“What the hell, Shadow?” I hiss under my breath and study the pictures again to make sure I’m not losing my ever-loving mind.
Nope, not hallucinating. Xan, Tyler, Cole, Garret, and Nathan, five of my most recent boyfriends, are each tied to a chair and blindfolded.
Five guys. Really? Am I a slut? No. Not important right now.
I can’t seem to get air into my lungs. My stalker is a fucking psychopath.
I mean, come on, the stalking should have been the first red flag, but my demon pussy ignored it and just saw big, glorious O’s.
With trembling fingers, I type out a reply.
Hidden_Embers: Are you crazy? Let them go! If you think this solves anything, you’re wrong. You could easily be one of them and using a tripod and a timer on your camera to fool me.
Phantom_Shadow: I got you. Stay tuned.
Hidden_Embers: What do you mean, stay tuned?
Nothing
Hidden_Embers: Shadow! Please don’t hurt them. I take it back. I don’t care who you are.
Nothing.
Hey Emily, I found out where your boyfriend is.
Where you ask? Oh, my stalker kidnapped him!
Shit! What do I do? I turn to run away but remember someone is in there waiting on me, and I throw a mini tantrum, shaking my fists and screaming in my mind.
Taking a shaky breath, I open the door and step inside.
One thing at a time. I jot down a mental checklist. Number One-do my job.
Number Two-make sure my stalker doesn’t murder my ex-boyfriends… somehow.
The sound of the door has my client lifting her head.
“Everything okay, Red?” The familiar voice smoothing.
It’s Kioni. Calmness blankets in at her presence. “Yeah, I’m fine. The guy I’m…umm seeing is sort of…he did something bad,” I stutter.
She’s a police officer. If I slip up and say something I shouldn’t, I’ll be interrogated, and my life will be on display for everyone.
No, thank you. Shadow has never given me a reason not to trust him.
Well, he did put a shock collar on me once…
and grazed me with an arrow…once…and drugged me…
once. But it was all for good reasons. Fun reasons.
She pushes herself up on her elbows, and I avert my eyes so I’m not staring at her breasts to remain somewhat professional.
“Has he hurt you?”
“No, it’s not like that,” I rush out. “He doesn’t mistreat me. He just does bad things sometimes.”
She gives me a knowing look, as if she doesn’t believe me. “You’ll tell me if he ever lays a hand on you in any way other than love.” It’s not a question.
“Promise,” I reply, unable to stop my eyes from drifting before she lays back down.
She’s so pretty it’s not fair. I lift the blanket and rest it just above her ass, and warm some oil in my hands.
It feels good to touch her like this. She’s so strong and confident, but right now her guard is down.
Something tells me she doesn’t allow that to happen often.
“So, what brought you in today?”
“I wanted to see how magical your fingers really are.”
“And?”
“Hmm,” she hums. “Haven’t decided yet.”
I scrunch my face at the back of her head. The way she melted beneath my touch says differently. “Do you care if I get oil in your hair?”
She contemplates for a few seconds. “Do whatever you want to me, Red.”
I slide my hand up the back of her neck, threading my fingers through her thick waves, and tug while my other hand works her neck and shoulders.
She groans as I repeat the motion until she is putty in my hands.
I may not be as strong as her, but I could still bring the devil to his knees after lying on my table for an hour.
Her messy bun is even messier when I tell her to flip onto her back.
She parts her heavy eyelids to find me wearing a smug grin, but it fades when I see the hunger in her gaze and the uneven rise and fall of her chest. I bite my lip and get more oil, warming it before gliding my hands over her chest, my fingers grazing the tops of her breasts.
“If I admit you have magical fingers, will you please stop torturing me?”
My hands freeze mid-movement, but when I try to pull them away, she covers them with her own, pressing them against her. “I didn’t say I wanted you to stop touching me.”
Our eyes remain locked for several heartbeats before she drops her arms to her sides.
“I thought I was torturing you.”
“You are.”
Why am I breathing erratically? And why am I picturing how she would look when she is well and thoroughly tortured.
It’s Shadow. He has my mind in shambles.
As she closes her eyes, I become engrossed in the sight of my hands sliding across her caramel skin.
It’s hypnotizing. It reminds of pouring cream into a cup of espresso, creating a cute design.
I love lattes.