When I lift my head to look down at her sweat-sheened body, I note the light coming from the window. It’s dull, but it’s there.
I sit back on my thighs. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Freeing my dick, I stare down at her, taking my erection in my hand and jerking it only a few times before I spill my load all over her pussy and lower stomach. She groans along with me, feeling my hot seed on her skin.
“Fuck,” I breathe out, trying to catch my breath. I’d much rather have fucked her, but she deserves more than what I could have given her just now.
Next time.
Because there will be a next time.
“Don’t move,” I say quietly.
I get off the bed, fix myself, then pull my phone from my pocket and take a photo of her. One from far away so I get the entire scene and another of my cum all over her skin.
I pocket my phone, and walk to the side of the bed. Her head turns toward me, and I can imagine the look on her face. Completely fucking wrecked.
My hands clench to fists as I fight the urge to rip off the pillow-case and show her who I am. Show her it’s me. Explain that nothing has to change between us. That we can be how we were. But that’s a bad idea. So instead, I take her hand in both of mine and bend down to kiss her palm.
“Until next time,” I say as I gently put her hand back onto the bed. I find the mask on the floor by the closet and put it back on, though there’s no point. She won’t look. I know she won’t. She likes this game too much, and loves the anonymity of it.
I leave the room carefully. Sam is still sleeping on the couch. The meds are likely worn off by now and he could wake up at any moment—hell, his alarm probably will go off soon. I didn’t check the time, but he is an early riser. I consider killing him one more time before I leave the apartment, but still choose not to, and flick the bottom lock before closing the front door.
When I get upstairs, I jerk off twice just to get my dick back to normal. I snap a photo of the mess I made all over myself and send it to her with a message.
LMCYTTWACYAGG: You were perfect.
Chapter Seventeen
Sailor
A smile comes to my face as I wake up and the memories of last night flood my brain. It was amazing. Perfect. And such a relief.
I can do this. I can live like this.
I’m an adult, and I make my own decisions. I choose how my life is going to go, and if this is how I want to live it, if this is what fulfills me sexually, then I’m going to do it.
I have no idea what it was about last night, but something about it gave me back my confidence. I’d gone my whole life without it, but when I met Jaxon, I found it, and it was amazing. New. Exciting. It disappeared when Jaxon and I broke up, and after just one night with Shadow, it’s back. And this time, I don’t want to let it go—I won’t let it go. I won’t put someone else in charge of it. I am going to be in charge of it now.
I roll onto my back, and when I shift, my foot hits something that has me snapping my eyes open. I startle further, my heart jumping when I see someone sitting on the end of the bed. It takes a moment for me to realize who it is—Sam.
“What are you doing?” I ask, pushing to sit up.
“You said we could talk.”
What? Is he serious?
“Yeah, when I woke up.”
“And I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”
“By staring at me?” I ask louder than I should. It’s almost a yell.
He doesn’t flinch, just keeps staring. He looks exhausted. Red-rimmed, puffy eyes. He’s kind of pale too. Is he getting sick?
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly.
“Sailor—”
