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Her cumdump of a roommate, Amanda, comes in next. But I’m long gone before she starts to disrobe.
My dick has no interest in morally bankrupt cunts like that. Actually…and this is odd…my dick seems to have no interest in much of anyone the last month.
Only her.
Dahlia.
But now it’s time to go, and fade into the night. I’ve got a paper to write, a piano sonata to practice, and of course, mayhem to plan.
And Dahlia to fantasize about.
* * *
Present:
I allowmyself a smug smile as I look at my phone. It was so painfully easy to hack her Wi-Fi.
“Naughty girl…” I murmur quietly to myself. I can see what she’s looking at on her phone on my own, having paired it to hers via the hacked Wi-Fi. But I raise my eyes from it and look through her window instead.
The live show ismuchmore interesting.
Inside her bedroom, Dahlia writhes under the sheets, moaning quietly as she fingers her greedy little pussy.
I grin. She almost didn’t make it home after I teased her right to the brink in my loft. She was barely through the door before she was stripping down, bringing up porn videos on her phone that haveseverelypiqued my interest and curiosity, and fallen into bed with her hand firmly jammed between her thighs.
When she rolls onto her front and arches her back, sending her luscious ass high in the air, I reach down and finally allow myself to free my cock. When she moans into the pillow, only half watching the video on her phone of the man in the mask fucking the absolute living shit out of a petite girl on her knees with her hands bound behind her back and her panties stuffed in her drooling mouth, I begin to stroke.
Given that Dahlia’s Upper West Side apartment, unlike her dorm room back when she was in school, is on the tenth floor, not the second, with no convenient tree branch a hundred feet up, this has proved a trickier spot to get to.
But, obviously, not impossible.
The window-washing apparatus that lowers from the roof five stories above us was simple enough to break into.
So I watch. And keep watching. I jerk my swollen cock, licking my lips as if to capture the last remnant taste of her pussy from earlier, when I sucked both of our fingers clean.
She tastes like heaven.
Like the rapture.
She tastes, in fact, like my undoing.
On her bed, Dahlia twists and writhes, burying her face in her pillow, the video long forgotten. The sheet slips off her, and I grit my teeth to stop from groaning as I watch her fingers roughly work and fuck her pussy. Her legs shake, her toes curl.
And when she comes, so do I.
My hot, sticky white cum sprays against the outside of her bedroom window. And when Dahlia rolls out of bed and pads lazily to the shower, and I depart, I leave that cum right where I sprayed it.
A mark to any other creepies or crawlies or things that go bump in the night that might come calling.
She’s spoken for. She’s taken.
She always has been, and she always will be. Even if that’s the thing I hate about myself the most.
12
DAHLIA
I take a deep,slow breath as the elevator ascends to the floor housing “Laconia Logistics”. Aka, Deimos’ bullshit faux office for a sham company that probably does nothing at all.
