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My hand moves slowly at first, as if I’m trying to hold on to some semblance of control, even though I’m breaking my carefully established rules.
But that doesn’t last long.
I’ve stopped counting, and before I know it, I’m fucking hard into my hand. Working my cock faster and faster, chasing the burning heat that builds in my stomach and spreads outward like an inferno. My breathing is heavy, and every other exhale comes out as either a curse or a moan. I can’t help it, and I fist my cock hard, my fingers tight around the panties that I’m using like a toy.
I think about Willow standing in our home, about the way she reacted to everything I said. How she tried not to move but couldn’t quite control herself. She was watching Malice, but I was the one who was right there with her. I was the one with my voice in her ear, describing her reactions as she danced on a knife’s edge of desire.
In my head, I imagine the way her face must’ve looked as arousal stirred inside her, and that’s enough to have me tensing up. Pleasure and heat slam into me, undeniable and unavoidable. I groan as I come hard, pulling the panties back enough that they’re not wrapped around my dick when I empty myself in hot, wet spurts.
I smear the mess of cum into the crotch of her panties, staring at it for a long moment. My chest heaves as I pant for breath, and some of the tension bleeds out of my body as I come down from the high of my climax.
After a second or two, I shake myself and ball the panties up into a wad, stashing them in my closet where I keep things I don’t want anyone to mess with.
“Fuck,” I whisper, curling my hands into fists and pressing them against my forehead. The tension in my body has let up somewhat, but the mess in my head is even worse than it was before.
I shouldn’t have done that.
Stripping out of my clothes, I place each article in the designated basket for washing later. Then I grab fresh clothes and walk naked down the hall to the bathroom we all share.
While the water heats up, I tap my fingers against my thigh. Seven times on one side, and then seven times on the other. I count each number, careful to make sure I don’t miss one. I start near my knees and then work my way up in neat rows, picturing them in my mind. Even and perfect.
Once steam billows out of the shower, I get in, making sure the knob for the water is adjusted the way I like it. Not exactly in the middle, but a little to the right, lining up with one of the grout lines in the tile.
I wash my body thoroughly, scrubbing with my loofah, making sure not to miss any spots. Under my breath, I repeat the ingredients for the body wash I use, the sound of it drowned out by the crash of the shower water hitting the tub.
When I feel clean enough, I wash my hair once, then again, and then once more, completing a sequence in my brain.
Some of the buzzing under my skin and in my head lessens as I start piecing together the armor of my control again. After ejaculating in Willow’s panties, I felt adrift. Off center. Like my equilibrium was fucked up.
Going through my routines helps with the feeling of spinning out of control, and when I step out of the shower to dry off, I feel more like myself.
Enough that I can get shit done again, anyway.
After tugging on my clothes in the right order, I run a hand through my damp hair and head back to my room, stepping inside just in time to hear a soft ping from my computer.
Good. It’s done.
I cross to the desk and pull up the program I left running before I went out to see Willow. It’s a relief to refocus on the task at hand, shutting down my emotions and putting my mind to work on a problem I can tangibly solve.
Finding a random man in a city with a population of over three million people, using the hacking skills and software at my disposal, makes sense to me. It’s logical and orderly. It soothes me, and I sit down in my chair, clicking through the program to see what it’s found.
Satisfaction fills me as I note that there’s a solid match for the mystery man who followed Willow.
Gotcha, motherfucker.
20
WILLOW
The next day,I walk across campus, shooting glances from side to side as I go. I’ve been on edge all day, worried that whoever I saw last night is still here, waiting to find me again and attack me.
But I don’t see any signs of him, and there’s no one lurking around, waiting to hurt me.
I head into the science building a little after noon, walking to my next class. It’s in one of the bigger lecture halls, and I take a seat in the back, pulling out my notebook and pens, ready to take notes.
The room fills up slowly, students trickling in, laughing and talking as they settle into their seats, and then the professor comes in as well, taking his place at the front.
“We’ll be watching a film today,” he intones, then sweeps us all with a warning look. “And before you start thinking this might be an excellent time for a post-lunch nap, I should tell you—there will be a quiz on this later, so be sure to pay attention.”
