How ishe able to keep himself on that tree branch for so long without falling off?I wonder as the masked man puts his dick back inside his pants.
I hold up a finger to let him know that I’ll be back in a minute before flying out of the bed and going to the bathroom to wash my vibrator and hands, and to wipe the blood from my mouth and nipples. When I go back to my room to put the toy away, though, my heart races when I don’t see him in the tree anymore.
I rush to the window and look down at the grass below, but he’s not lying there in a broken heap.
Thank goodness, but where the hell did he go?
Disappointment fills me; I didn’t realize how much I craved his attention until now. I’m just about to get back into bed when I hear noises coming from downstairs.
After quickly redressing, I grab Lunchbox and quietly tiptoe downstairs. When I reach the bottom step, I quickly realize that I don’t have a means of protection other than this little puppy in my arms, and now I feel stupid for not at least grabbing a pair of scissors or something out of my desk drawer.
The living room is dark now from the sun setting. I stand still at the bottom of the stairs and listen for something, anythingto let me know if there’s someone else down here or if I’m just imagining things.
That’s when I feel it—a dark presence is in here with me.
“Is it you?” I whisper, desperately looking around the room for a familiar form.
“Yes, little flower,” a voice, dark and deep, says.
I let out a little gasp when a darkened figure steps into my line of view in the kitchen. Lunchbox starts whimpering and nuzzles his face into my chest.
He’s so tall that his head almost touches the top of the door frame as he comes to me in three long strides.
I’m so overwhelmed by his looming presence that I take a step back, but I only end up pushed against the wall. The man braces his hands on either side of my head and leans in so close that my nose and lips just barely graze the surface of the gas mask.
Even though he’s so close to me, he’s careful not to crush Lunchbox beneath his massive body. That little gesture has something stirring in the pit of my stomach.
“How did you get in?” I ask quietly, looking deep into those amber eyes. He must be wearing a black mask underneath the gas mask, because all I can see of his face are those eyes that stare at me so intensely. There’s something familiar about them, but I can’t quite place my finger on it.
He cocks his head in the direction of the kitchen. “The backdoor.”
Although his voice is deep and rough, it sounds muffled; he must have some kind of voice distorter inside of that mask.
“Oh,” is all I can think of to say. My chest heaves as I struggle to catch my breath, but it’s so hard when he’s so close.
I’m not sure how long we stand there staring at each other, but it’s so dark now that I just barely make out when he reachesup a gloved hand to trace the outline of the bruise on my cheek. I wince, and he pulls back, but I shake my head.
“He hurt you,” he says roughly.
“It’s okay. I like it,” I whisper.
His eyes darken deliciously. Somehow, he knows what I mean—that I like whenhehurts me, not when Evan does.
I think Lunchbox can sense the tension in the air because he starts growling.
“I need to put him away,” I say, slipping underneath the man’s arm and practically sprinting to Lunchbox’s cage. I’m awash with cold air now that I’m not near him, but I need to take a quick breath because my body is on fire right now.
“Don’t be nervous, little flower,” he says gruffly. I let out a squeak and turn around to find him standing right behind me. “You know I won’t hurt you, Essence. Put the dog away so I can touch you.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and do as he says. Lunchbox starts crying, and my heart aches to pick him back up again, but I just want at least a few moments alone with my masked stranger. This is the closest we’ve ever been before, and I don’t want to ruin the time we have together.
Grabbing his hand, I pull him towards the kitchen. “Let’s go in here. It might be easier if he can’t see me.”
It’s not easier, actually, because Lunchbox loses his mind now that I’m out of his sight. I want to go get him, but the man wastes no time putting his hands all over me once we’re in the kitchen.
His fingers are gentle and almost exploratory as they wrap around my thick curls. I close my eyes and sigh as he gently tugs on the strands.
“Harder,” I beg, desperate for the pain I’ve been waiting to feel from him.
