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My mystery man crouches down, leaning his forearms against his knees as he stares at me through his crimson purge mask.
“You’re devastatingly perfect.” Reaching out, he smears the cum off my cheeks with his thumb. It was from our session earlier, when I was kneeling down in front of him and asked him to cover my face. He went crazy for that and nearly emptied himself instantly at the sound of my plea.
When he’s finished tracing his thumb across my cheek, I grab his hand and bring his thumb to my lips, sucking the remnants of his cum off his flesh and groaning as I taste him again. My abused pussy already throbbing to feel him inside me again.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Not another dream about that cold night with Runi.
Shutting my eyes, I turn and pull my pillow close to my chest, hoping to step back through the shimmering curtain of my dream world and find my way back to him.
Back to that night when everything changed for me.
And the last night I had a full orgasm.
Unlike most women, climaxing doesn’t come easy for me. My thoughts are too loud; my anxiety is relentless, even during sex. And since Runi, I haven’t met anyone who has been able to take that all away from me. He brought me back to life, made me feel things I never thought were possible in less than twelve hours. I felt whole, different…renewed. And I know I’ll never find that again. Every man since him has only been a distraction.
But I’m in New York City now, which is full of opportunity and people walking around with kinks. I found the Boston BDSM group on an anonymous website, and after the masquerade ball, I deleted my account and never looked back. I needed time to process everything that had happened, all the blossoming changes within me.
After some time, I decided to go to a few events in the area, secretly hoping to run into him again, but he was never there. It’s as if he was a ghost, determined to haunt my dreams and thoughts and ruin sex for me forever.
Realizing sleep is definitely out of the question now, I open my eyes, letting out an exasperated breath as I stare up at my new ceiling. Correction, Aaron’s ceiling.
Glancing at the clock, I nearly jump out of my skin when I note the time.
Dominik…ugh!
I have exactly twenty minutes to get ready.
“Shit.”
Bolting for the bathroom, I quickly shower and brush my teeth. I throw on a pair of skinny jeans frayed at the knee caps and an oversized blue sweater. I adjust the neckline, hoping the one side doesn’t keep sliding off my left shoulder.
I should just cancel, knowing Dominik is only doing this as a favor to my brother. But even knowing how close they are, I was still surprised when he offered to take me around town last night. I always thought he couldn’t stand to be around me, and that’s probably still true, but maybe he owes Aaron. Or maybe he feels sorry for me.
Whatever. I’ll put on my normal, good-girl routine, walk around and nod, counting down the seconds until I can head back home.
Living life with zero expectations feels better. I made a conscious decision to switch off that part of myself a long time ago. It's a defense mechanism, really. When you come to the realization that the two individuals who were supposed to love you unconditionally couldn't, you learn to detach yourself emotionally. By not allowing anyone to get too close, you set realistic boundaries and avoid the disappointment that inevitably comes when they eventually walk away. Because, in the end, everyone always leaves.
I choose to live my life without any expectations, avoiding any attachments to people or things. Emotions are for the weak anyway.
After scrunching hair mousse through my damp hair, I put on some concealer, bronzer, mascara, and a nude-pink lip. Somehow, I managed to get ready in ten minutes, which is a record for me.
Realizing I could use a cup of coffee before Mr. Grump shows up, I head for the kitchen.
No sign of Aaron, per usual. I’m not even sure the man is human at this point. Seriously, when does he sleep? I don’t even think he came home last night. He wasn’t home when I left to get ice cream, and he didn’t come back while I was pigging out, bent over the kitchen island like a total weirdo. If my mom had seen me, she would have had a total fit.
You’re disgusting. Grab a bowl. Who eats ice cream out of the container? Uneducated, ill-mannered women…that’s who.
I haven’t spoken to her in months, and honestly, I’m grateful for the much-needed silence for the first time in my life. I’m sure my parents feel the same way about me. Actually, I think they would be delighted if they were to get a call one day saying they needed to come identify my body.
Don’t be dramatic.
Funny, that’s something my mother would say.
I grab my coffee and get comfortable on the couch, looking out at the beautiful New York morning. The sun has just risen, the apartment is utterly quiet, and I’m going to enjoy this moment of peace. Pulling the soft, fuzzy blanket over my legs, I flip open my book and get comfortable.
There is nothing like silence and great literature. My entire world could be in utter shambles, but when I open the pages of a book, I get completely lost within the story. Transported to another universe. It’s an amazing escape from reality and something I need to help me get by.
