Maybe she can read to me sometime.
My brows shoot to my hairline when I see the kitchen. Well, what used to be a kitchen. The countertops are littered with books and takeout containers, and the table is lost under more books.
I smirk. She’s cuter by the second. I’ll make her a big bookshelf. I bet she’ll like that. I’ll give her a damn library if she wants.
The hiss of the shower has me turning my head in the direction it’s coming from, and I hold my breath. She’s naked, wet, and alone.
I’m here, yes, but I don’t count. I’ll lurk in the shadows to keep my eye on her. Being this close, in her presence without her knowing, it sends a thrill of excitement through me, something akin to slicing tongues. I move quickly; she’ll never know I’m here. Lurking. Watching from the shadows.
Shadows can’t be seen in other shadows, and that’s where I plan to stay when it comes to my comet.
I wake up with a gasp, my skin prickling with awareness. My body is hot, my nipples are hard, and the space between my legs is throbbing. I’m not afraid. I’m not sure if what I’m feeling is real or if my brain is still sleep-induced and imaging brown eyes staring at me.
My body is on fire from a ghost of a man I don’t know. I swear, I feel his intensity surrounding me. I feel watched, but I know that’s impossible. I haven’t seen him in weeks, but I could never forget him.
Running my hand down my chest, my body buzzes with the thought of him watching me. I can feel him here. I must be out of my mind, but it’s okay. It’s only me here, but I wished I weren’t alone. I wish he were here. I don’t understand my reaction to him, but I’m allowed to want someone I’m not allowed to have. It’s natural to dream about a guy that is handsome, dangerous, and forbidden.
Yeah, I’ll keep telling myself that.
I moan when I think about the tattoos surrounding his neck, disappearing down his shirt, and traveling down his arms. I’d like to get a better look at them, up close and personal, just once. One time I want to experience what it’s like to be with a man like Tongue.
Tongue.
What kind of name is that?
I want to know why it exists. Is he good with his mouth? Is that it?
“Oh!” I arch into my hand, circling the bundle of nerves at the thought of his lips between my legs. I bury my hands into his long, shaggy hair, pulling him harder against me for more friction against the scruff on his face. His eyes slide up my body, and the intensity glaring from them match the grip of his fingers along my flesh.
A growl from the corner has my fingers pausing their rapid movements. I sit up, elbows against the bed, my breathing ragged. I search the room, but I can’t see much since it’s dark. I reach toward the nightstand and pat around until I find my glasses. I slide them on, and now the darkness is clear instead of blurry.
“Is someone there?” I ask the shadows like a crazy person. I probably just heard a noise from outside, a dog at the dumpster in the alley.
All it will take is for me to turn on the lamp, but I stop myself from pulling the switch. The promise the darkness holds is better than the truth that waits in the light. Maybe I’m imagining him there in the corner, and it’s only adding to the fantasy; seeing the space empty will only disappoint me.
What the hell is wrong with me? If someone is in my house, I need to snap the hell out of it. I try to summon an inch of panic, but the hairs on the back of my neck aren’t standing up in alarm. I feel safe.
And as long as I have that comfort, I’m not going to ruin the only fantasy I’ve ever had. My hand falls to the top of the nightstand, then rubs down the lip of the top, migrating toward the silver knob. I slowly open the drawer and grab my vibrator, swallowing spit to try to coat the dryness scratching my throat.
Am I really going to do this?
I must’ve had too many glasses of wine before I went to bed.
“If you’re there, you don’t have to say anything or do anything. If you’re not, I guess I’m not losing out, but I hope you are,” I say, hoping I don’t sound ridiculous if I’m speaking to a wall. “I can feel you,” I whisper, spreading my legs wide. “Or I’m losing my mind, but I swear I can.” My room always has an empty feeling to it, but right now, there is this energy I can’t explain. It’s intense and completely overpowers my body.
I don’t feel the urge to run; I only feel the urge to give in.
The devil is knocking on my door, and my sin is turning the knob to allow him in.
I lay back, the memory foam pillow cupping my head gently. I wonder if Tongue has a gentle touch. His appearance is rugged, tough, but I bet there is a side that appreciates a careful caress.
The straps of my nightgown fall down my shoulders, almost exposing my breasts, and I swear I hear an inhale from the corner.
Or it’s me since I’m breathing so hard.
With a free hand, I wiggle free of the gown, pushing it down to my waist, freeing my body. I hope he likes what he sees. The cold air circulating from the fan causes my nipples to bead. I imagine it’s his hands, his calloused fingers brushing over them, and it tugs a moan from the middle of my throat.
“Oh god,” I gasp, bringing his mysterious face in the front of my mind, remembering every defined line when I met him. Strong jaws, high cheekbones, eyes the color of honey mixed in cinnamon, and there’s this uncertainty I saw when I stared at him. He has an innocence about him I can’t put my finger on.
I’m not saying he isn’t the kind of man I need to stay away from; I know he is.
But I don’t think I can help it.
My thumb presses the button on the vibrator in my hand, and I rub it over my tight nipples, gasping from the sensations. I’ve always been sensitive. I can bring myself to climax just by tugging on them. I need more than that tonight. I need to see if this relieves the pressure in my head, and maybe the need for Mr. Mysterious will fade.
I turn my head to the right and stare into the corner, hoping to see an outline of him, but it’s only darkness with the hint of the moon peeking between the curtains. I bite my lip as I glide the silicone shaft down my body and insert it between legs. “Yes,” I hiss, letting my eyes roll to the back of my head.
Another grunt coming from the corner has me rocking my hips back and forth, needing more friction. I want the vibrator deeper, filling me, stretching me, but it isn’t big enough. I can’t stop moaning. I’m drowning out any sounds that are coming from the corner, if there are any, and I turn up the vibration level.
“Oh god!” I cry out, spreading my arm to grip the edge of the bed. My thighs tremble, and there is a molten hot swirl in my lower belly. “I’m going to come,” I announce to the fantasy and snatch the pillow from the left side of me and smash it against my face to mutter my sounds.
Liquid drips down my thighs as I orgasm, shaking uncontrollably. I think of Tongue, the stranger in my dreams, the haunting I hope is in the shadows, and my muscles spasm again.
The vibrations become too much against my sensitive pussy, so I reach between my legs and turn it off. I throw the pillow off my face and a flash of his face hovers over me in my drunken, orgasmic state. I freeze, staring into the eyes that have been embedded into the marrow of my bones in such a short amount of time.