Page 10 of My Masked Stalker
I’m so close that it only takes a minute for me to reach that peak and explode, my head kicking back against my pillow, my womb cramping with the force of my orgasm. I fuck myselfthrough the aftershocks, my fingers still pressing against my clit, imagining phantom hands gliding over my sweat-damp body.
Then I pull out the toy and burst into tears.
∞∞∞
“You’re not goingto finish that?” Barbara asks, pointing her fork at the half-eaten piece of cake on my plate. It’s her birthday, and I’ve been a lousy friend so far, distracted by my mystery gunman. It’s been two weeks, and he hasn’t visited me again. I’m not sure how I feel about it.
I smile at my friend, pushing out thoughts of my very well-built night intruder as much as I can. “You can help me,” I offer, moving the little plate closer to her.
Barb sticks a piece of sugary goodness into her mouth and licks the prongs clean. “Mmm, so good.”
She wiggles in her seat like an excited child, and I can’t help laughing. She’s always so goofy, her light-brown eyes crinkled at the corners with her amusement at life. I don’t think I would’ve gotten through my grandmother’s death without her. Grams practically raised me when my good-for-nothing parents dropped the ball, and I don’t think I’ll ever get over the loss.
“You haven’t forgotten about the Halloween party, have you?” she asks me, breaking me out of another reverie.
I fidget, pushing a crumb around with my fork. “Oh. Yeah. Long Island?”
Barbara narrows her eyes at me. “Let me guess. You don’t have a costume yet.”
Cringing, I let my shoulders slump. “Do Ihaveto go? You know I’m not a fan of parties.”
“Um, yes, you have to,” Barb insists. “You do remember that the school’s doing a fundraiser with the corn maze, right?”
“As if they’d let me forget,” I mutter, trying hard to resist the temptation of banging my head against the table until I pass out. Anything’s better than having to dress up in costume and interact with people.
Barbara whips out her phone and starts tapping and scrolling, her fingers flying over the screen. Then the threat comes out: “If you don’t show me your costume by next week, I’m buying one for you.”
I groan, covering my eyes with my free hand. “You just want to dress me up as slutty something. Slutty ghost. Slutty nurse. Slutty… porcupine.”
She throws her head back laughing, then turns the phone over to show me a… slutty nun outfit. Of course. I roll my eyes at it and her.
“I’ll get my own costume, thank you,” I say, sounding as prickly as that slutty porcupine.
Barbara gives me a stern look. “One week, babe. Otherwise, you’re going holy-ho but not holy, if you know what I mean.”
“Barbara, I can’t go to a work fundraiser as a slutty anything,” I deadpan. “And neither can you. Imagine Sue’s face if you show up in a corset.”
“Oh, riiiight,” Barbara drawls, her eyes wide. “Completely forgot about our evil overlord. Guess my slutty fallen angel outfit will have to wait for the afterparty.”
I sigh, trying to think up an outfit that would work for a Halloween thing with work people. A sasquatch, maybe?
After checking my watch, I put down the fork and wipe my mouth with a napkin.
“Are we going shopping?” Barb asks, her eyes wide with surprise.
“Nope,” I reply, popping the P. “We’re going to have unhealthy amounts of cinema popcorn and a ten-hour romcom marathon.”
She squeals and claps her hands, making the rich-looking ladies at the next table frown.
“You really do love me,” Barbara says, getting up so fast her chair scrapes against the floor. Now the waitress is frowning at us too, and I’m cringing. Barb doesn’t care, but I hate it when people stare at me.
“Of course I love you,” I mutter, grabbing my coat and following her out.
By the time I get home, sunset has come and gone, and it’s another damp early October night in New York City. The long hours of laughing at cheesy movies actually made me forget about my shadow for a moment, but as my skin prickles with awareness while I’m unlocking the building door, I can’tnotthink of him. He sent me a few messages, and I was too scared to reply, but…
I can’t believe I’m even considering that he might have been disappointed by me that night!
Shaking my head, I jog up to my apartment and shuffle inside, looking forward to the moment when I can take off my bra. Before I can reach back for the hooks, though, I realize there’s a scent of smoky cologne in the air. My scalp itches as my hair stands up. Is he here?
