Page 37 of Painted Scars
I put aside any doubts for now and I genie up her wish.
Me: Are you touching yourself for your grumpy stalker?
Kate: Yes
I know I should stop. Like fuck, I am. Spare room in my pants shrinks. Little August is awake, and I’m thinking with the wrong head. Logic is out. Lust is in.
I bang out words to Katar.
Me: Log out. Now. Or I take your eyes.
Katar: Done. She’s your princess.
He’s gone before I can argue.
Kate slides her hand under her waistband and thumbs her phone with one hand.
Kate: Where did you go?
I snap to attention. She’s waiting. And I’m hard.
Me: Right here, Glitter Bomb.
Her smile lights a fire in my chest that melts the ice block I call a heart. My cock aches as her hand sinks between her thighs.
Kate: Are you coming with me, Grumpy Daddy?
I’ve gone too far to stop now. My hand is already moving south. Zipper down, cock free. Stroking for her.
Me: I’m hard for you. Touch yourself for me. Scream for your Grumpy Daddy.
Her fingers work, and I pump myself to match her rhythm. Moans slip through the glass that tempt me to smash the window and climb inside her room. She’s on her back, writhing, mouth parted, finger working faster.
Me: Fist me hard, baby.
She moans loud enough to pierce the window. Squirming on the bed, she struggles to type with one hand.
Kate: Are you close?
Me: No more typing. I want to hear you, Glitter Bomb.
She obeys. Her breath. Whimpers. My fucking name. The glow of her pleasure. And when she comes? Fuck… the sound she makes, the arch of her back, the raw surrender, the image of her flushed face burns into my mind. I explode into my hand and mop up the mess with a cloth I always carry for blood and sweat. Now this.
She cleans her hands with a wet wipe from her drawer, then picks up her phone to message me.
Kate: That was so fucking hot.
She kisses the screen.
Hot, alright.
She takes my silence as a sign.
Kate: Don’t go. Knowing you’re with me… makes me feel safe.
The words hit harder than my climax. She wants me for protection and safety. I don’t know what to do with that. Don’t know how to be that. Some part of me wants to be, and that’s the problem.
Kate: Gone shy?
