Page 29 of Under the Bed

I’m your God here. Harder, Shiloh. Faster. Or do you want me to choke the life out of you for being bad?

The last of my inhibitions snaps as I do as the voice says. His voice.

I press the mask tighter to my pussy, rubbing it against the wettest parts of me.

The nose and lips stroke my clit over and over, driving me closer to the edge. Building my orgasm. I hear Kaleb’s groans as if he were down there, between my thighs. Licking, biting, sucking.

I don’t know if he’s had any sexual experience. I don’t know if he’s ever thought about me like I think of him.

What I do know is that this version of Kaleb is devoted to me and no one else. He is, and he—fuck—eats me out just the right way. Just how I’d like it.

With him, I wouldn’t feel shame or pain. I’d feel his tongue on my lips and—my God, that tip of his nose on me—his fingers on my body.

I’d feel him.

A few more strokes and it’s like my brain explodes. I push the mask into me, hard, as I lift my hips and ride it. Riding out my orgasm that has my toes curling, and my mind going numb.

“Kaleb. Kaleb. Kaleb,” I chant his name. The name of my God.

But good things never last, do they?

No, they don’t. Not for me.

When my orgasm simmers, the closet is as empty as ever. Lonely. Cold.

As if they never left, fear and guilt crash into me.

Burdened by shame, I get up, peeking into my room from the closet. The empty bedroom.

He isn’t here. Of course he isn’t.

Doesn’t mean he couldn’t be. Later tonight, he could show up here. Hurt me. Kill me. I won’t blame him.

My chest tightens. My stomach dips.

It isn’t safe for me to go out there. I can’t make myself leave the closet to clean the evidence of my orgasm from my thighs and wipe it off the mask.

I can’t leave it dirty, either.

Sliding the door closed, I take a deep breath. Bring the mask close to my face. I lick off my orgasm, taking my time as I swipe my tongue all over it.

A second orgasm builds inside me, and I hate myself for getting turned on by this.

I’m distraught, that’s what I am. I won’t blame myself for making love to a mask. For falling for my stepbrother.

No matter how wrong it is.

Not tonight.

I keep going, doing my best to remove any evidence of my depravity, then pull my panties back on.

In another life, we could be good together. Could be happy.

In another life, where nothing bad ever happens.

There, I’m never conflicted about my feelings. There, I don’t go to bed each night, fearing the boogeyman and what he might do to me. In that place, I don’t crave it.

Unfortunately, I’m here. Alone and scared.

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