“Take it out.”
I gasp, my eyes going so wide I’m surprised they don’t pop out of my skull. The remaining fog of my orgasm clears, and I’m hit with a wave of terror. “Fuckno. You willnotbe doing that.”
“Why not?”
He genuinely sounds confused. “Why not? Because I don’t want you to get me pregnant! You’re a serial killer!” I try to shimmy up on the mattress, but he holds tight, not letting me move. “I… I want to be with someone I love before I have kids. That is most certainlynotyou.”
“I see…” His fingers curl against my walls, relentless and punishing. “That means you have until the day I rip that nasty IUD out of your body to fall in love with me.”
“Wha—No!” My head spins, unable to concentrate with his fingers moving like that. “I don’t want that!”
“A shame I don’t care.” His voice is sweet, placating. “You’remine,Grace. Mine to do with as I please. Mine to worship andto ruin. To consume.” He leans in, brushing his masked face against mine in a gentle caress. “And I will do it all with glee, knowing it means one day I’ll die with the taste of you on my tongue, in my veins.”
“You’re crazy,” I whisper, my mind breaking.
“If only you knew how much.” He backs slowly off the bed. “You will, though.”
And then, like every time before, he disappears.
I lie there panting, staring blindly at the ceiling, my body humming in the aftermath of his heated touch. The scent of gunpowder and tobacco lingers in the space he used to occupy, filling me with a deep sense of loneliness and loss every time I take a breath.
I’m utterly terrified but also a little excited and turned on. If I’m really, truly honest with myself, I probably would have taken things further with him if he stayed—fallen headfirst into his endless well of depravity. I want to run, but something about him pulls me to him—something dangerous and intoxicating. I’m worried now that he’s in my system, there’s no way I’ll ever be rid of him.
It’s something I’d rather not think about.
My eyes spring open after what feels like only minutes, but when I check my alarm, it’s time to get ready for work. With a groan, I pull my weary bones from bed, doing my best to shove thoughts from last night to the very back of my mind. Hoping a shower will help my state of mind—it rarely does—I head into the bathroom and turn the water on to cold.
Stripping off my sweat-soaked pj’s, I step into the tub, sucking in a sharp breath through my teeth as the freezingwater pelts my skin. Just when my body is getting used to the temperature, a loud rap at the front door pulls me right out of my dissociative state.
“It’s probably nothing,” I whisper. Right after the words come out, there’s another, softer knock, and I can’t ignore my curiosity any longer.
“Coming!” I turn the water off and step out onto the bathmat. I wrap my body in a robe as I hurry to the door, leaving watery footprints in my wake.
I look through the peephole, frowning at the sight of the empty hallway. Cautiously, I crack open my door, gazing left and right in hopes to find whoever was knocking on my door—but there’s no one. It’s as if they vanished into thin air.
I’m about to close the door when I spy something on my doorstep. A package. It’s wrapped in a small, plain brown box. It’s addressed to me, but I haven’t ordered anything in weeks, and there’s no indication of where it came from. I double-check the address on the box one more time, and sure enough, it’s for me. Curious, I pick up the package and close the door, locking it tight as a strange chill runs down my spine.
Shaking away my paranoia, I head into my kitchen to grab a knife so I can get inside the thing, my curiosity overpowering the alarm bells blaring in the back of my mind.
“What the…?” I stare down at the bubble-wrapped gift, unable to believe my eyes.A butt plug.A bright yellow,bejeweledbutt plug. Breath shallow, I pull the sex toy out of the box, surprised at the heft of it. I’ve seen a lot of adult toys in my line of work—a good 18 percent of them being butt plugs—and this is aniceone. Custom, I’m sure. Someone paid a lot of money for this.
For me.
I put the plug back into the box with trembling fingers, and a crinkling sound draws my attention to a note wedged betweenthe cardboard and the wrapping. Against my better judgment, I pull it out, knowing who it’s from before I read a single word.
Wear this today. If you don’t, I’ll know…and you won’t like the punishment I choose.
Yours,
Seven
He wants me towearthis? As in,insideme? As in, all day atwork?
No. Absolutely not. I cannot think of anything more mortifying. Or kinky…
My mind wanders back to last night, replaying everything. Seven touching me.Pleasing me. And I let it all happen—hell, I welcomed it. It was the best orgasm I’ve ever had, and we didn’t even have sex. If he was that good with his hands and his mouth, I can’t wait to see what he can do with other parts of his body…
I shake my head, casting those terrible thoughts aside as I throw the box onto my kitchen counter and return to my shower.There will be zero falling for the masked stalker. I’m not that stupid. This isn’t some story where we ride off happily into the sunset. Seven is a deranged serial killer, and the more I allow myself to get tangled in his toxic web, the less likely I’ll want to leave.
