Page 32 of Hellebore

“Hey, girl,” I answer with a chuckle. “I was just thinking about a masked hottie⁠—”

She laughs on the other end, warm and wicked. “One big-ass masked guy.”

“Yes! Tall as hell!” I say, slumping deeper into the couch with a smile.

“Well, you’re five-three, so most guys are tall as fuck to you.” She teases, still laughing.

“True.” I bite my bottom lip, grinning. “Should make hunting easier.”

There’s a small pause. I sit up a little straighter.

“What’s going on, Lu?”

I hear her take a deep breath. “Any more texts? Or flowers?”

I shake my head even though she can’t see me. “It’s been quiet. And honestly… I don’t care anymore. I can’t keep living in fear. Not again.”

“I know, but still… be careful. Maybe get some mace or something.”

“I don’t think those are even legal here,” I mutter. “Anyway, if someone really wanted to hurt me, they would’ve done it already. It’s probably just Luke and some other asshole playing stupid games.”

“Yeah… I think so too.” She says, but her voice still carries that worried edge.

“Okay, no more negative, scary shit.” I cut in, forcing lightness into my tone. “Friday. Short dress. Black boots. Black lipstick.”

Lucille gives a small, nervous chuckle. “Yes! But no heels, babe. It’s the woods.”

I laugh. “Since when can I even wear heels without breaking an ankle?”

We talk for another hour, about the latest TV show we’re both obsessed with, the insane bleeding-heart cookie order I had today, and everything in between. When we finally hang up, the apartment feels a little less heavy.

I take a quick shower, letting the hot water chase away the lingering unease, then slip under my soft blankets with my book. I bite my lip as I flip to the scene I’ve been waiting for since I saw it mentioned online.

The guy has sex with her while she’s sleeping.

“I wonder if men are really into this,” I murmur to myself, a little giggle slipping out. There’s something about the not-knowing, the surrender, that sends a dark thrill down my spine.

My old therapist said I became oversexual after the assault. That I chase power in sex so I never feel helpless again. Maybe he was right. Because the idea of being chased… of being taken while I’m soft and unaware… It gives me chills in the best way. Especially when the girl in the book gives him permission. She wants it. She trusts him with that darkness.

My hand drifts down under the blankets as I keep reading. I’m already wet and aching.

The scene ends and I can’t sleep. I reach over to my nightstand, grab my vibrator, and turn it on max. I press it over my panties, eyes fluttering shut.

I just need to come fast so I can finally rest. This week is packed with orders, including that small black cake with sugar flowers I have to finish tomorrow, but even as the vibrations roll through me, my mind keeps drifting back to the masked party.

The bakery is finally quiet after the morning rush. I usually help at the front, but today I get to disappear into the back and focus on the special order, a small, intimate cake for a couple.

“Cordelia?” I call out, wiping my hands on my apron.

She pops her head in with her usual bright smile. “Yes?”

“Can you give me all the details for the cake order?” I grab my little notebook and pencil, ready to sketch.

“It’s a small one, for a couple,” she starts. I scribble quickly. “Dark chocolate cake, filled with salted caramel and caramelized nuts.”

My pencil stops mid-stroke. I look up at her, frowning.

“Are you sure?”