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Why does his voice have to be so sexy?

The pressure inside is mounting as I keep my fingers on the swell of my breast and slide my other hand down my panty line. My fingers slip inside, and I stroke my folds. A small moan pours out of me as soon as my vision catches sight of that mask again and the hushed shadows that surround him.

I close my eyes and enjoy my fingers, wishing they were his. I add another finger and arch my back and play with myself for a few minutes, forgetting everything.

My eyes open in a haze and he’s still watching me, but I can’t see his facial expressions. To me, he looks…indifferent.

“Do you like that?” I ask him, out of breath.

“It’s a good start,” he says in a low voice.

I part my lips and lean back on one hand, spreading my legs for him so he can watch everything. I can hear my wetness as my fingers stroke in and out as my orgasm builds. Knowing he’s watching helps get me off, and it’s not long before my insides are exploding.

I add in another finger and shove it inside myself. “I wish you were here to do this for me.” My breath is ragged, my voice comes out stuttered.

“Trust me, Summer, you really don’t want that. It’s probably best for both of us if I keep my distance from you.”

And there lies the truth of the matter.

What if I want to be his next victim? Why else would I be doing this?

Fuck. I’m catering to a psychopath.

Someone knocks on the door. “Summer?”

Shit! It’s Dani, and I didn’t lock my door.

“Should we invite her in to watch, too?”

I glance over at the door. “Sorry, I’m just studying,” I call out to her, hoping she takes the hint and goes away.

I hear a muffled pause. “No worries. I was just checking on you. I’m going to bed.”

My fingers are still pressed to my clit. I deepen my breath, waiting for her footsteps to echo down the staircase.

Finally, the stairs creak and I hear her bedroom door shut on the floor below.

I glance back at the camera. “I think…I think I’m done,” I whisper, pulling my hands out and curling my knees up.

He shifts, still looking so composed compared to me. “We can be done tonight if that’s what you want,” he says, and I raise my eyes to meet his across the screen. He’s still watching me, studying me. “But I promise you, Summer, we are far from done.”

I pull my blanket over my body, covering myself from him, but keep the camera on. I reach over and grab my textbook and lean my head against my headboard, opening the book.

This week’s topic—Cognitive vs. Operant Conditioning, an introduction to developmental psychology.

Maybe I will learn why I’m so dysfunctional.

“Will…will you still help me?” I ask him.

He reaches for his phone and flips off his camera, and my heart sinks. “Yeah, I’ll still help you, but I won’t make you look at this creepy mask while I do it.”

I giggle at that comment, at how normal he sounds.

“I have to read this tonight,” I tell him, “or I am going to fall behind.”

His keyboard clicking echoes out of the phone. “When you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be here.”

My eyebrows furrow. “So you’re just going to watch me read?”