Page 34 of Heat Lightning

Ugh. “No,” I said, rolling my eyes. “That’s not why I called.”

“Well, then. I’m listening.”

I scooted down so I lay flat with my head on the pillow. Why I’d called him was a very good question, but he didn’t need to know that. “I, um. Well.” Quickly, I said the first thing that came to mind. “Oh. I didn’t tell him you were here. My boss, I mean. I didn’t say anything about you at all. So. You don’t need to, like—I don’t know—do whatever you were planning to do if I did.”

Silence stretched, and I couldn’t help but fill it. “He’s a good person.” Realizing I sounded like I was begging, I took a breath. “A good dad. I like this family. So don’t…”

“Kill them?” he finished for me.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “That.”

The line was silent for a beat. I couldn’t gauge it, but kept my mouth shut lest I let it slip that a child had witnessed him climbing up the balcony and he should probably work on his stealth techniques.

“Just so we’re clear,” he began, “I don’t hurt innocent people, Max.” His voice was calm and assured. “I don’t even hurt people who are probably murderers, or abusers, or traffickers. My research is thorough. And I certainly,” he paused for emphasis, “certainly wouldn’t hurt anyone who’d merely caught me being negligent. I don’t believe in collateral damage.”

“Oh.” I twisted a loose thread from my duvet around my finger. “Okay. That’s good, then.”

“You don’t have to worry about them, Max. They’re safe, and so are you.”

I blinked away the burn in my eyes. Tonight was just full of cranking the tap on newly discovered emotions.

“You should get some sleep, sweetheart,” he said after a few moments of silence. “You look exhausted.”

My heart raced. I sat back up, peering around the room. “What do you mean? How do you know what I look like?”

“Just wanted to make sure you were tucked in safely for the night. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

The line disconnected.

I nearly tripped on my way over to the window, pulling aside the curtains to peer down into the garden. I had to squint in the near-dark, again cursing the loss of my glasses. Small solar lanterns were staked along the perimeter where the yard tumbled down onto the rocky shoreline, illuminating the way.

And there, barely visible in the gloom, a tall, broad-silhouetted man stood below my window, like some kind of gothic yard art.

Just wanted to make sure you were tucked in safely for the night.

The figure lifted one hand, as if to wave, before melting into the shadows.

My heart beat rapidly in my chest, the evening’s events all rushing in at once. Was he really watching out for me? Making sure I was safe? Could I even trust anything he said?

No. Yes. Maybe. Fuck, I was certifiable. I should be checked in somewhere for even considering that a stalker had good intentions.

And yet… for all that my breath quickened and pulse raced, the buzzing unease from earlier settled.

For long minutes I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling while thinking about him. That needy, achy beast inside me purred low in my belly, like a big cat stretching as it awoke.

Slowly, like sap dripping from a tree trunk, my thoughts from earlier seeped back in.

The Masked Man, frightening and soothing in equal measure, stared down at me while he pinned my wrists above my head, just like he had earlier that night. He slipped a hand down my front, teasing my nipples and making my belly shiver before alighting the very tips of his fingers on my chubbed-up cock, tracing a pattern up and down, up and down.

Gently, so I only felt the barest touch, he brushed his knuckles along my hardening length until I was erect, trapped in place by the towel held down by his knees on either side of my hips. All I could do was squirm beneath him, letting out breathy gasps while I sought more of his touch.

My eyes fluttered shut, and my body reacted as if he really were there, touching me. Arching up, I ground my palm into my hard cock, a wet spot already forming on my cotton briefs.

Slick. For the first time in two years, I was slick.

With a gasp, I scrambled in my bedside drawer for my trusty vibrating dildo, grateful I wouldn’t have to deal with the rigamarole of lubing the thing up. I tossed off the covers, cocked one leg up, and pulled aside my briefs just enough to align the cool, silicone tip with my hole, before⁠—

“Yes!” I cried, ankles crossed around his back while he drove into me. Oh, God, he felt so good. So thick and right and deep. I clawed at his shoulders, begging him for more as he grasped my hips, tilted them just right, and fucked the head of his cock into my breeding gland until I saw stars.