Page 63 of Ruin Me Gently

Or maybe I just needed to fully commit and start researching convents.

I shoved off the bed.

No. Too extreme.

Coffee. Coffee was safer.

The kitchen was quiet, the air cool against my flushed skin. I moved on autopilot, grabbing a mug, flicking on the machine, going through the motions as I reevaluated my entire existence.

The scalding coffee did nothing to clear my head. I just kept looping back to tall, dark, and deliberately mysterious.

I was a grown woman, not some teenager with a forbidden crush.

Sighing, I stared into the depths of my cup, as if it might hold some answers. Or absolution. Or, at the very least, a little self-control.

It didn’t.

Right. Fine. Desperate times.

If I couldn’t get him out of my head. I’d force him out.

Maybe some time with the vibrator and the audio of some other person moaning would help. A palate cleanser, if you will.

I trudged back upstairs, already bracing myself for whatever fresh hell my subconscious had waiting for me.

I already kind of hated myself for this. But it was fine, normal, functional. All healthy women did this. If I could get it out of my system, I could move on and get back to him being a plain, old, creepy stalker and not some sex demon that was inching himself into my brain.

No time for messing around. Just a quick, hard release, and I could call it a night.

A low, breathy moan filtered through my headphones, whispering filth straight into my ears, designed for one thing and one thing only.

I clicked the vibrator on to full power, the familiar hum sending a shiver up my spine as I shoved my underwear down, wasting no time pressing it straight to my clit.

My free hand gripped the sheets, twisting them so hard my knuckles ached, but I needed something to ground me, something to hold onto as my body unraveled beneath me.

I pressed the vibrator harder, sending sharp, electric pleasure ripping through me in waves.

The voice in my ear was low and filthy. Each moan burned through my veins, liquid heat pooling low, my body completely out of my control.

I was so close. So close it hurt.

My hips rolled into it, chasing the edge, my stomach tightening—right there, right there.

The sudden buzz against the mattress shattered it.

The pleasure was yanked from me so fast it left me gasping, blinking hard, still wound tight, still aching.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

My phone.

My fingers fumbled over the sheets, heart still pounding, pulse still throbbing in places it absolutely shouldn’t be.

Mr Stalker

One image attached.

I tapped the screen, and the image opened.

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