Now I’m standing by my bed, preparing myself to let the fabric fall to the floor. As soon as I let go, the cool air hits me and goosebumps spread across my skin. Echo’s probably already watching, but I don’t let myself focus on that. Denial isn’t healthy, but neither is trying to bait your stalker into fucking you while you sleep.
I pull back the covers and slip into bed, surprised by how good the buttery silk sheets feel against my skin. I’ve never slept naked before. It always felt like a risk that wasn’t worth taking. I mean, what if an emergency happened in the middle of the night, or God forbid someone broke in? Would I really want a stranger to stumble in on me, butt-ass-naked? Hell no. But apparently I’m cool with a man that I know is a killer doing just that.
I’m not sure how much time passes while I lie there, barely covered by a corner of the sheet pretending to sleep, but it’s long enough that I start to wonder if maybe he won’t show up tonight. Which would be both a relief and absolutely infuriating.
Then the breeze from outside lulls and I know he’s here.
I keep my breathing slow and even as let my body go limp. In. out. In. out. And envision myself as someonewho’s deeply asleep and definitely not vibrating with anticipation.
Echo’s footsteps are so quiet that I’d miss them if I wasn’t listening this hard. But I catch them, soft and slow, moving through the dark as if he’s memorized every inch of my room.
Then he stops and everything goes quiet.
He’s looking at me. I can feel it. And based on the fact that he hasn’t moved an inch, he’s either stunned into a stupor or admiring the view.
A few minutes pass, and I’m starting to think he might just stand there staring at me all night, which was so not the point of this.
So I decide to push him.
I shift my body slightly, pretending to be in the throes of deep sleep, and I hear him suck in a breath as my exposed breasts jiggle.
The sound reverberates straight to my pussy and within seconds I’m wet.
His hand reaches out and settles over my breast so carefully that for a moment I think I’m imagining it. His touch is so light, so barely there, that it’s borderline maddening. I want him to touch me harder, but I can feel the hesitation seeping through his skin.
I let out a slow, sleepy sound and lean into his touch slightly, letting his hand palm my breast even more.
His hand responds immediately, squeezing it tighter as his thumb slides out to graze my nipple.
My breath hitches at the contact, and I inwardly wince.
Shit.
That wasn’t even close to the sound a sleeping person would make, and we both know it.
Echo’s hand stills, and I pretend to groan in my sleep, hoping it’ll convince him to keep going.
I don’t want him to stop.
I never want him to stop.
His thumb grazes my nipple again, slower this time, and the breath that leaves me this time is more convincing. I melt into his touch and feel the weight of his body settle next to me on my bed.
He pulls the sheets off me, and I fight the urge to shiver as his hand leaves my breast and begins a slow, agonizing trail down. Over my ribs, past the curve of my waist, and down my hips.
My thighs are already pressed together when his hand finds them. And when he slips his hand between them, my legs go pliant in a way that I’m sure no sleeping person’s ever has. He parts them painfully slowly, and exposes my slick center to the cool air.
“Look at you.” He whispers, running his finger gently over the seam of my cunt. “Even in sleep, you’re soaked for me.”
My lips twitch.
It’s working.
It’s actually working.
The mattress shifts as he stands, and I track his movement through the dark behind my closed eyelids, straining to figure out what he’s doing. Then I hear his belt unbuckle, followed by the unmistakable sound of a zipper sliding.
Oh my god.
