Blue: You own me, Red. Now send me a photo, Dr. Mercer. I want to see that beautiful cock that was pumping hard in my mouth today.
My dick throbs in my pants.
Blue: Stand in front of the window and take it. I want to watch.
A sharp, dizzying rush floods my system, pushing everything too close to the edge and making the world feel dangerously bright.
My phone rings. I press the button, step in front of the window, and say nothing.
Blue breathlessly begs, "I need it, Dr. Mercer."
I fill my lungs with as much air as possible, then slowly release it.
She continues, "Ask me why I want a photo of your cock, Red."
My gaze darts, then freezes on the electric-blue hair with red streaks glowing under the streetlamp.
"Ask me, Dr. Mercer," she taunts.
My voice comes out gravelly. "Why do you want it?"
"I want to imagine you pushing inside of me for the first time."
My groan rolls out of me before I can stop it.
She looks up, and even at a distance, I can see her pupils blown wide, swallowing color, leaving only black intent behind. She pleads, "Send me something."
It's more fuel for my high. I lean into the devil, asserting, "I'm in charge, Bluebird. Not you. And when I push into you, whatever you imagine isn't going to come close to what it feels like."
"Oh, God," she breathes, and grips the lamppost. Her hand trembles against the metal.
Something cruel blooms in my gut, surprising me, but also egging me further. "Goodnight, Blue." I hang up and step back from the window.
A chirp fills the air before I can sit. A photo pops up of her bare, glistening pussy. Her fingers V across the lips.
Blue: I need the photo, Red. I need to imagine it inside me, wondering how you're going to stretch me enough to take all of you. Please. I have to have it.
There's a flash of satisfaction that has nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with control, and it scares me how clean it feels.
Me: Careful, Blue. Anticipation is only fun until someone else decides when it ends.
Blue: I know. That's why I'm still here.
Sweat pops out on my skin. I take off my shirt and pants, carefully laying them over the back of my armchair. I walk to the window in only my boxers, staring down at her, knowing she's unhinged and that her mania is directed at me, yet drowning deeper in the approval of it.
The phone rings.
I answer silently again, not taking my eyes off my little stalker.
"I never made or sent photos of me like that to Brax," she blurts out.
Brax.
A darker instinct unfurls in my chest, patient and pleased, like it's been waiting for the right moment to be acknowledged. I warn, "You set your sights on a man this time, Blue. You should have stuck with Brax. When I take you, it won't be because you offered. It'll be because you understood exactly what you were provoking and you decided you wanted the consequences."
"Yes, Dr. Mercer," she breathes, gripping the post so tight her knuckles are white even from the distance.
"Go home, Blue. That's an order," I state, then hang up. I turn and slide into bed, studying the photo she put in my nightstandand the one of her pussy she texted me, until my obsession turns as raw as hers.
