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@Rook: Don’t need it.
I pick up my phone to investigate his message.
He dissed my damn code like it was nothing.
My palms sweat. He doesn’t understand the safety aspect of this for me. Three dots appear as if he’s typing, but then they disappear. My stomach drops as if the lock clicked open. Suddenly, another message pops up.
@Rook: Don’t act like this is yours to control.
Obviously.
That’s the point. I’m not in control of something, and it’s a relief. There’s no filtering or captioning in our dynamic. He sees me for who I am—a privileged girl looking to be ruined by a complete stranger. Still, someday I’ll throw that back at him. Someday when I know he’s in too deep to run. When we trust each other enough that I might look forward to how he might punish me for talking back.
He’s not the type to send an ETA, but something in my gut tells me our messaging stint earlier could bring him back. He’ll want to teach me a lesson for trying to control him, right? Or perhaps he has another girl in his sights who doesn’t press him the way I do. He probably rolled his eyes at my message and decided that I’m too eager to bother with, anyway.
Maybe I wasn’t fun enough the other night.
I inhale a jagged breath. Because he didn’t know my lack of body count, he could think I wasn’t playful. Or feral enough. I’m not a sexual goddess yet, but I’d love for him to turn me into one. A terrifying thought intrudes on my mind.
He doesn’t need the code because there won’t be a second time.
I head for the shower anyway, hoping I manifested him into showing up tonight. I’m usually a night showerer, so I clip my naturally curly hair back and run my fingers over the baby hairs sticking to the back of my neck from the humidity. I reach for my vanilla-gourmand body wash. It’s a delicious scent, and if Rook shows tonight, he’d better devour me.
And the truth is, I hope he does.
I moisturize with lotion of the same scent and unclip my hair, giving my curls a quick refreshing spray. Other girls might be anxious at the idea of a strange man barging in without their knowledge and fucking them, but not me. Even my stomach stays calm. Of course, part of me is a little nervous about what he might do. He’s grabbed me in the darkness, threatened to do more, and took things further. How much further could he push it?
I’ve waited in the living room for hours in the dark. I don’t know if he’s coming tonight, but I’m ready. Much more this time. Midnight ticks by… Still nothing. And I’m losing hope that I took too much control over his plan for me. I maniacally double-check my DMs, security cameras, the time.
Half past midnight…
Then, a quarter to one.
I don’t bother watching videos on my phone. The house is quiet, with just the buzz of a nearby fan and the usual city noise to fill the silence. I curse myself for waiting up for a stranger, risking my healthy sleeping habits for the fantasy of a mysterious influencer to invade my home.
Finally, the sound of a car door slamming in the eerie silence makes my head snap up, and I simultaneously get a notification from my camera that someone is by the garage door. In a hoodie and sweats, the figure has to be him.
The good him.
I rush to the foyer. The front door swings open without a code being entered, like he still hacked it to prove he could. Rook is Rook. Face impossible to make out in the dark. I loosen the belt of my robe and let it slip down my bare body. Rook lets out a light groan and abruptly picks me up, holding me by my thighs. His warm hands sear their prints into my skin. He backs me up against the firm wall hard enough to make me wince and lightly yip at the pain in my back.
Just then, he crashes his lips onto mine. They’re plump, and his tongue presses into my mouth and finds mine. He tastes of bitter coffee, giving him away. He stayed up on purpose to do this.
Holy shit, this is our first kiss, and I’m worried about his sleeping habits!
After all he’s taken, who needed the kiss more, Rook or the person behind him? It’s out of character, but I still moan out into his mouth. He bumps me into the wall again as if to tell me that this isn’t supposed to be fun or hot. But, fuck me, it is. I shove his hood down, unsure if I should, but I tangle my fingers in his hair, anyway. It’s thick, with short, coarse, tight coils on the top of his head. I know he has a light, maybe slightly olive skin tone from his videos. I wonder if his ethnicity is something Mediterranean, maybe?
“Upstairs,” I moan. His lips trail down my neck and over my collarbones, and heat floods my chest. This is already much more sensual and drawn out than our first time. I like to think he can’t hold back either. He plants kisses and nips down my chest until they find my breasts. I sharply inhale a breath as he sucks on my nipple and then tugs at it with his teeth. “Ah,” I cry out in pain. He repeats the gesture on the other one. “Ow.” I wince, but my back still arches, needing him. I want to scream, ‘Please do that again!’
He moves his hands to cup my ass, and he carries me upstairs, knowing where to find my bedroom after his previous visits here. For the first time, his pierced nipples brush against my own, cold, hard metal colliding with my softness.
You wanted that in particular, Appa.
He walks through the threshold of my bedroom and drops me on my bed. I bounce from the sudden force, settling in the middle of my mattress with my curls splayed across the comforter in a messy halo.
His voice cuts through the haze. “Roll,” he instructs.
I do as he says, lying flat on my duvet. I feel a couple of his demanding fingers find the wetness between my legs, and I lift my hips in anticipation. He drops his fingers and uses his wide hand to press my back down into my mattress. I turn my head to the side and exhale. My eyelids drop, waiting for the intrusion I’ve fantasized about since the other night. The bed frame creaks, and the mattress shifts below me as Rook’s weight makes it sink. He rests his hardness on the curve of my ass.
