Afterward, guilt crept in, and I felt like I was betraying them both somehow. It left me even more conflicted, but I tried to push it from my thoughts as he took care of me. We lay in the tub together until I nearly fell asleep on him, then he dried me off and carried me back to bed.
Wrapped in the warmth of his body, his arm anchored around my waist, I drifted off.
It’s slightly disturbing how relaxed I am with him. I don’t even like to let other people hug me, but in his arms, my mind goes quiet, and the tension dissolves.
It’s like my body recognizes something familiar in him. Something safe.
Perhaps a little too safe.
A paranoid thought enters my mind that the reason I feel so comfortable is because I already know him.
I found it odd that he seemed more interested in my past heartbreak than my current engagement. He asked nothing about Riccardo, but knowing his tendencies, there’s a chance he already knew about him. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t bothered by it.
When I roll over to grab my phone, I notice a gift box on the nightstand. There’s a card attached to the top, and a separate folded note waiting for me.
I peek inside the box and find a display of chocolate-covered cherries, and I can’t help but smile when I read his note.
Since I took yours last night.
R.I.P. Virginity
He has the kind of humor that makes you question whether or not it’s appropriate to laugh. And not in theis this actually a joke?kind of way. It’s more like,am I deranged for being amused by this?
I’m tempted to text him right now, but I want to see what’s in the card first. It’s a matte black envelope with a gold seal on the back. It feels a little mysterious, and when I peel it open, I understand why.
You are cordially invited to a night of sinful delights at Davenport Manor After Dark.
Masks required. Misbehavior encouraged.
Arrive at midnight and step into a world of thrills and chills.
Claim Signals: Venator/Praeda
I stareat the gold-foiled letters, then flip it over to find the list of rules and expectations for the event. All at once, I’m hit by two realizations.
This means he has to be a member of The Society. That’s the only way he could get an invitation.
It also feels a little too coincidental that I only recently told the girls I wanted to go. But that conversation took place in a conference room, so I don’t know how he could have possibly known about it.
Then again, we’ve talked at length about the things I want to try. I’ve sent him scenes from books that leaned heavily into fear and primal play, and he knows about my love for carnivals. These aren’t exactly secrets. But even if they were, I suspect he would have uncovered them anyway.
His stalking skills are slightly terrifying, but I can’t deny there’s also something weirdly addictive about him being so invested in my life.
My phone chimes, and I’m not surprised to see it’s him. He seems to have memorized my routine—right down to the time I wake up. My sleep schedule runs late, which is why I take afternoon classes and work at night when I function best.
Eros415: Good afternoon, little shark.
BiteSizedGabi: Good afternoon
Eros415: Is your pussy still sore?
My body responds to the memory of him inside me. There’s no question I still feel him.
BiteSizedGabi: Yes.
Eros415: Want me to come kiss it better?
BiteSizedGabi: Also yes.
