4 days later
I couldn’t get that date out of my mind.
I kept thinking about him, Mr. Masters.
The way he’d just pushed me against that wall, not giving a shit if anyone saw what he was doing to me. The way my body reacted to his touch, how helpless I was as soon as he got his strong hands on me, and inside me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. His tongue in my mouth. His teeth biting down on my bottom lip and his body pressing up against mine. It was addicting, just thinking about it.
It was also absolutely freaking awful, because Mr. Masters hadn’t been in touch in over three days.
It was driving me crazy. The way he did that to me, then sent me home in a cab as if I didn’t even matter… And now, to ignore me like this? It felt like the worst kind of betrayal, probably because I was so into him already.
I craved so much more. His hands exploring my body, his fingers pushing inside me once again. I craved his dirty touch and the way he slipped and told me something not-at-all-gentlemanly then grinned as if it was nothing. I wanted him. I wanted what he had given me, only a brief glimpse that night, but making me want so much more from him.
And yet he didn’t call.
Or text.
Or show up at work, or the supermarket.
He was an enigma, even though I did my very best to research him.
A simple search online showed me everything I needed to know about Flynn Masters. He was an important man, the owner of an up-and-coming investment banking company in a city about thirty minutes away by car. He’d been featured in several local newspapers as well as tabloids, and I stared with envy at the women on his arm in those pictures. They looked nothing like me.
They were all expensive clothes, handbags that cost more than I could save up in a year, hair blown out to perfection. There was no way I could compare, and I was sure he’d figured out the very same thing, which was why he suddenly dropped off the face of the earth. I tried to ignore the pain and pretend it didn’t hurt me, even though it was getting increasingly hard to do it.
But instead of obsessing about Mr. Perfect, I focused on Mr. Mysterious instead.
I spent hours upon hours talking to him, listening to his delicious voice instructing me on what he wanted me to do for him. He’d given me more orgasms than I could have counted, and every time I came home from work, I loved logging on to see him online, waiting to make me come. It seemed as if he was as addicted to these playing sessions as I was, and I’d finally found someone with an appetite for lust as insatiable as mine.
And I loved it.
My favorite wasn’t when he let me come, however. My favorite was hearing him lose himself in my moans, grunting because he couldn’t hold back, and spilling his cum all over his fist. I loved him coming for me like that, because I knew I was the reason he’d just emptied his balls all over his shaky fingers. It was the best feeling in the world, and I couldn’t get enough of it.
I lived to hear him burst. I lived for the sounds he made, his voice rough and needy when he told me not to stop, to keep my fingers in his cunt and keep working myself for him. It was the best, dirtiest fantasy playing out live just for me, and I couldn’t fucking get enough.
I was talking to him again today, and I heard him getting close for me. His slow grunts, the way his orders got sharper and more outrageous the more turned on he got. The hours I could steal away with him, come with him, were my favorite part of my day. I found myself fantasizing about him, afraid to even look at the only picture he’d ever sent me again, so worried I would fall head over heels for this man who I’d never even met in person.
I was, in one word, addicted.
And I didn’t give a shit.
“Pinch your nipple,” he grunted. “Thumb and index finger, right the fuck now. Pull out and count to ten, little doll.”
I gasped for him and he groaned at the sound.
“Good fucking girl,” he said, and I felt myself getting so close from the pain, skirting the edge of pleasure, dancing on the precipice and waiting for his order to push me over into the beautiful abyss.
Which is precisely the moment Casper chose to jump up on my desk and purr louder than ever. I gasped in surprise and let go of my nipple, looking guiltily into the camera.
“Fuck,” I whispered. “I’m sorry…”
He laughed out loud.
“It’s okay, doll,” he said in his low, seductive voice. “Tell Casper I said hi.”
“I will,” I replied, but then something struck out to me. “Wait… I never told you his name.”
There was a short silence on the other end of the line, and I furrowed my brows, waiting for him to explain.
“Sure you did,” he said easily. “You’ve mentioned it a few times, actually.”
“I haven’t,” I insisted. “I never told you. How do you know that?”
I felt cold dread sinking into my stomach, and for an awful moment, I was honestly so scared of him I wanted to delete everything that had happened between us from memory. I wanted him gone. Wanted him to leave me alone and forget anything ever happened between us. I wanted all of this to be over.
“I’m sorry, doll,” he said slowly. “I…”
His sentence trailed off into nothing just as I realized what was actually going on.
How he’d been playing me from the start. How he’d pretended to be two people, when it was really one person all along.
“You’re the guy,” I whispered. “The creepy guy who showed up at my house.”
“What?” he asked incredulously. “No, wait, Cleo, please.”
“Fuck off,” I snarled, covering up my tits from the camera. I rushed to my computer to end the call while he tried to explain, trying to block out every word he was saying.
Shit, shit, shit. This couldn’t be happening. I hadn’t just fallen for his lies, please, no…
I cut the call and sat there in nothing but a pair of lacy red panties. I felt devoid of all emotions for a little while before the pure, unadulterated anger took over. He was a jackass, a dangerous jackass, most likely, and I was sure he was going to try and make contact again, even though I’d hurt his pride. I was so fucking pissed off, and at the same time, so scared for myself. I’d let this guy find out everything about me… I’d let him dangerously close without even realizing it.
And now, he could really fucking hurt me. He might do it soon, too.
I held back a sob as I jumped up from the bed, rummaging in my closet to find a silk robe I wore on lazy summer mornings. I wrapped it around my body and paced downstairs, putting a cup of tea on. Thank fuck it was the middle of the day. Surely he wasn’t brave enough to show up at my house while it was light outside and hurt me while anyone could hear?
I needed to make plans for the night. I was too scared to be in the house alone, but I had no one to call.
My eyes watered with fear and anger. I was so hurt he’d done this to me. Deceived me, when I was really starting to fall for him. He was an absolute creep, and if I had to get a restraining order against him, I was perfectly willing to do it. Anything to keep him away from me, keep him as far away as fucking possible.
I finished making myself the cup of tea I so desperately needed, and carried it over to the living room. I curled up on the couch and tucked my feet beneath my ass while Casper came to sit on my lap. He didn’t have a clue what was going on, and kept pushing his little face against mine, desperate for a few kisses. I drank my tea slowly and cuddled him, trying to decide how I was going to get out of this whole mess. It was going to end badly, I just knew it.
It seemed like only a few minutes had passed when my doorbell rang. The second it did, I froze in absolute fear, terrified of who might be at the door.
“Who is it?” I called out, my nerves getting the better of me as I stood up and Casper jumped off my lap. My hand lingered on the front door’s handle. I was terrified.
“Flynn,” he called out, and I slowly stopped tensing up.
I only remembered what I was wearing when I opened the door to him.
He stood before me in a visibly expensive suit and shirt, staring me up and down. I covered up my body self-consciously, wrapping the silk robe tighter around my body.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him coolly, feeling the breeze of the day ruffling the bottom of my robe. I hoped he couldn’t see anything, but just in case, I stepped behind the door and covered myself up more. I wasn’t about to ask him in, either. Last time I saw him, he’d blown me off completely. “I’m not letting you in, if that’s why you came.”
“Cleo,” he said desperately. I’d never seen him look like that. Even his hair was a little disheveled. “I… I had to come after what happened.”
“How do you know what happened?” I asked him, and stared him down.
“Don’t…” He ran a hand through his hair, which I’d only seen slicked back so far. I kind of liked the messy look… and truth be told, he looked good enough to eat. Not that I would ever admit that to him… Or myself.
“Please,” he went on. “Just let me in, let’s talk. Please, doll.”
“W-what?” I stuttered, looking up at him.
He wasn’t shaved like usual. There was a faint hint of stubble lining his chiseled jaw, and his jaw clenched as I stared at him, his beautiful dark eyes zeroing in on mine with unquestionable desire.
“Doll…” he repeated, and my mouth hung open.
“You…” I breathed. “It was you.”
Casper sneaked out and rubbed against his ankles, and he leaned down to pick him up while I stared at him, still completely shocked.
“Let me in, doll,” he said, rougher this time. The voice I knew. The voice to which I’d come so many times I’d lost count all those days ago. “Now. Step aside and let me the fuck in.”
My hands shook as I let him in, and he put the cat down. Casper scrambled upstairs, obviously sensing the tension between us, and I closed the door after them, leaning against the wall.
“You played me,” I told him. “You fucking stalker. You found me… You wanted to hurt me…”
He stepped closer to me. I saw him with different eyes now, and he towered over me even more without my heels. I’d never been more scared… or more turned on.
“Shut the fuck up, doll,” he told me darkly. “I don’t give a shit what you think. Get on your damn knees.”
My whole body shook and wouldn’t obey. He stared me down until I moved away from the wall, and then put his hands on my hips, his fingers digging through the red silk into my skin. I moaned out loud, a soft gasp leaving my lips as he forced me down on my knees. He reached for his belt as I watched him, my eyes open wider than ever, begging him not to.
“You could’ve figured it out,” he told me. “You just didn’t want to, did you, doll? This is what you fucking want.”
He opened his belt buckle and the sound of the metal clanging against his fingers practically made me drip on the floor. I felt like the dirtiest bitch around him. And I loved it.
“You want a gentleman to wine and dine you,” he growled. “And you want a fucking monster to fuck you. Isn’t that right, doll?”
He took my chin in his fingers and gently tipped it back, and I stared up at him with glassy eyes. He was surprisingly gentle with me given his words, and my whole body shook in anticipation, waiting for him to go on. Because even though I didn’t want to admit it to myself, I wanted him so fucking badly. I wanted him to fucking hurt me. I wanted exactly what he had described. Rough and sweet, evil and good, all wrapped into one sinful, sexy package. A monster in an expensive suit, that’s what he was.
“Say yes, doll,” he said, pushing his thumb in my mouth while I whimpered. “Or say no, I don’t give a fuck. Don’t say anything at all. I’ll fuck your mouth either fucking way, and you fucking know it.”
I parted my lips for him as he unzipped and pulled out the biggest cock I’d ever had. He was throbbing with veins, long and so thick I wondered how much he’d stretch me.
“Open wider,” he laughed at me. “It won’t fit like that, doll.”
He stretched my mouth open with his thumb and forced his cock down my throat.
“Feel that?” he said, stroking my cheek. “Feel how hard you’ve been making me for over a fucking week, doll?”
I nodded, my eyes watering with my mouth so full, looking up at him.
“Well, there’s some good news,” he told me. “You get to swallow all of it…”