“Oliver.” My voice deepens. I breathe into her ear through the cloth on my face, then I shove my hand past the material—forgetting I took my gloves off, I am welcomed by her skin so soft against mine. I proceed to use my hand to maneuver hers, pressing down onto her middle and index fingers, making them disappear inside her. “Or Ollie.” My breathing is heavy with excitement. The fabric on my face is aiding little to not at all, becoming my number one nemesis.
“Whichever you prefer, my dove.” The sweet aroma of her arousal fills my nostrils as I roll my fingers over hers assisting her, thrusting in and out. “Do you want release, little bird?” She nods, rubbing her cheek against the material concealing my face.
“How bad?”Oh my... fuck. Her scent of honeysuckle and vanilla is inebriating, and on my exhale, I growl in her ear. “Tell me, dove.”
“S-So, bad... please.” She begs, making my dick throb between the crease in her jeans as they hug her ass.
“Be a good girl for your phantom,” My tone is breathy, “Let go in… three.” I take my time counting down, absorbing every bit of her. The way she moans. Her invigorating fragrance. The seduction in her tone as she calls out demands, that up until this point I have only imagined.
This moment was better than anything my lonely mind has ever conjured. “Two-” I let out a roar, pausing for just a moment, before giving my good girl exactly what she’s been waiting for. “One” Her body convulses as she climaxes, and I inhale audibly, “Is that all for me, little bird?” I watch as her fear turns to desire—then she omits.
“Oliver,” her soft saccharine voice saying my name and the way her ass rubs against my erection forces me to unload in my pants, my body trembling with my release.
New craving unlocked: Emory fucking Selby with my name on her lips.
Chapter 8
Emory
"Curiosity can be a lantern in the dark--butbeware what you illuminate."
Istare at the scenery before me, surreal and intriguing by nature. The cold surface of the glass beneath my fingertips did little to convince me that I was… actually… here… in this library… on the foreign grounds owned by many from my father’s side. I wonder what part Niven plays in all of this. Could it be that she is the groundskeeper?
Once it is apparent that Niven is far enough from the room, my mind drifts toward less important, but still demanding, questions for my journey—ones that still needed answers. The man from the alley, and all that transpired beneath the tenebrous shroud of midnight, comes to mind.
What was his name?
Who was he?
Was he watching me even at this moment?
Then an idea begins to form in my mind—the utmost horribly rotten, bratty, pettiest, idea that has ever taken hold of my mind. Let’s say he is watching me now, and judging by his actions in the alleyway, he felt something too. With that said, my idea is: Iwillget mine, even if it is self-administered.
Just as I expected, I hear rustling, and gentle whispers emerge from behind one of the shelving units in the nook. Although they are hushed, they only get louder as I call out to my shadow stalker and touch myself. How he got in here doesn't matter to me. If he wants to be a shadow, and hide in the darkness, too afraid to step out into the light, I am going to treat him as such.
I pinch and pull, making sure to fall just short of his calls, giving him the illusion I can’t hear him, as I exact my revenge—forgetting one simple fact as I stand awash in the citrine glow of the setting sun.
Shadows only grow and get stronger in the light.
Without warning, his voice is right in my ear…and with his grungy tone, he startles me and my lust for him skyrockets… too much to bear after the way he left me in the alley.
I must fight the urges.
This isyourrevenge—don’t stop Emory.
Don’t let him leave you like that again.
His hands are on me, this time as an unforeseen guide to pleasure. I am unable to prevent the climax that escapes me and leaves my panties sodden. I knew he’d be here, but how did he find me? Thosewerehis barbaric chants I heard, like a puppet masters orders to his marionette. I listened, thinking it was all in my head.
He said he was a shadow, could that be true?
Did I manifest him here giving life to this illusion?
I look up, and our eyes meet, I watch as a ravenous look darkens the blue in his eyes to an ultramarine. I feel something firm plastered to the small of my back, and my bratty side arises again.
How does it feel to be left longing, asshole?
The thought makes me want to snicker, but my heart has other plans. My brain wants to kick his ass, but my libido longs to devour him. Somewhere along the war path of the two, my heart intervenes, making the executive decision.
