Chapter 1
Ari
My phone vibrates, startling me awake, and I blink as I try to focus on the screen.
Mystery Man: Good morning, freckles. Did you sleep well?
I smile, my heart racing. How many nights have I fallen asleep whilst texting? I’ve lost count. But I’m far from mad about it.
These texts are what I look forward to the most. Between attending a prestigious college and living under the iron fist that is my stepfather, these messages give me life.
And yet I have no idea who they are from. Sometimes it feels as though they’re coming from two completely different people—yet not. It’s confusing as hell.
But I’m free to let go of my inhibitions with these texts. We talk about anything and everything. I’ve done things in the heat of the moment that make me blush just thinking about them.
I daydream about meeting whoever it is in real life, but that’s all it is; a dream, make-believe.
Me: Morning. I did. You?
I see bubbles appear almost instantly.
Mystery Man: I dreamt I was filling your sweet cunt, and you kept my cock warm all night.
Blushing doesn’t even begin to cover the heat I feel in my face, and I find myself squeezing my thighs together, my stomach pulsing with anticipation and my nipples hardening.
The fact that I have no idea what this person even looks like, and yet the thought of doing just as he said has my pulse racing.
I type back, unable to help myself.
Me: And then what happened?
Anticipation courses through me like it always does when our messages take this direction, which is often the case.
Mystery Man: And then you let me fuck you, hard, until you were squeezing me so tight you came all over my cock. Then I painted your pretty pussy walls white as I filled you with my cum.
“Fuck,” I whisper, because yeah, the thought of that has me aching with need.
To say I’ve been going through a dry spell is an understatement. I had a long-term boyfriend, but we split up nearly two years ago, and since then there’s been no one else. So here I am, twenty-one and involuntarily celibate.
I’ve been on dates, but they never seem to work out. I’ve been ghosted more times than I care to admit. That shit does something to your self-esteem, so I just gave up.
And then, one day out of nowhere, I received a text. It’ll be a year ago tomorrow.
I wonder if I’ll ever meet whoever this is in person.
My phone vibrates in my hand.
Mystery Man: Would you let me fill you up?
I bite my lower lip and quickly reply.
Me: Yes!
Mystery Man: Fuck yeah. Tell me, are you wet thinking about it?
Without thought, my hand lowers underneath the hem of my bed shorts as I part my legs, my fingers slipping between my thighs, brushing over my sensitive clit before lowering to my entrance.
I reply, typing back with my free hand.
