Page 28 of Under the Bed

Is any of it really him?

Why am I soaking, dreading, and needing it?

There’s no explanation. It’s a waste of time searching for it now.

I’ll look into this later. At another time, when the dirty talk, fear, and desire aren’t creating a dangerous cocktail in my head.

My knees drop to the sides.

His mask is right there, over my pussy.

Fuck, yes. You smell so sweet. So mine.

Guilt claws at my chest. I don’t have the right to drag Kaleb into this fantasy. No right whatsoever. I haven’t done a single thing to save him.

I could blame my father’s reign of terror, but truthfully, it’s all on me.

If it weren’t for me, Kaleb would’ve never gotten locked up in the first place.

Kaleb, the real man instead of the one I fantasize about, must resent me. For getting him into this mess in the first place. For years of radio silence.

I should ask him for forgiveness. Offer him my life in exchange for his.

When I see him. If ever.

Never mind. Not now.

This, here, is a different version of Kaleb. This is about desire. About sex. About the person I’ve been secretly saving myself for.

In my head, our connection is undeniable. An unstoppable force.

It’s an attraction that began a few years after he was incarcerated. Maybe I’m drawn to the danger. Maybe I need this one person, this one man who stood up for me.

Whatever the reason is, it happened. Admiration turned to lust.

I want him.

And here, in my closet, he’s looking at me like the woman I am.

Whether the real Kaleb will keep me alive after, I can’t be sure.

Not like it matters.

My hands move on their own, pressing the lips of the mask to my pussy.

A wave of pleasure crashes into me, so strong that my head thrashes to the side, my back arching. My breaths are ragged, shaky.

“Fuck,” I groan. The contact. The friction.

The feel of him. He’s the first man to kiss me there.

I’m submitting to him, to Kaleb. Holy fuck. I can’t stop grinding my hips toward him. Can’t silence the sounds I’m making.

This is real. This is very, very real.

You think I’m done? Hell no. Fuck my face harder, little sister. I want your taste on mytongue for weeks.

I curse and moan as I rub the mask over my pussy. Not missing a spot, I roll it from my entrance and up. Slowly. Tentatively. Like God Himself might strike me for giving in to my impulses.

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