Page 19 of Unethical

“Please,” I beg, my mouth wanting to scream for him to stop but my brain begging me to let him continue.

My body misses his tongue the moment it leaves me. “Please what?”

Tell him to stop.

Tell him to keep fucking going.

I’m so conflicted. So confused.

He waits for me to speak, swirling his fingers around my opening before plunging them inside me. I gasp, and it pushes away every word until I have none to say to him. He pistons inside me, harder and faster, until there’s no way I can speak, even if I wanted to.

I scream out, my back leaving the mattress and curving toward the ceiling. He smirks against my skin before he spreads his lips and tongues me again. Now his fingers are inside me ashis tongue works my clit. My hands grip the sheets in trembling fists.

“Oh god,” I pant.

My hips scoop forward and push my pussy against his mouth, begging for him to keep going.

If I reached over and turned on the light, I could see the half of his face his raised mask has left exposed. I could tell who this monster is. But instead of hitting that switch, I force him deeper into my pussy. I moan, throwing back my head as I’ve never felt something so good, so terribly wrong.

“Come for me,” he whispers, his mouth moving against me.

His fingers dig into my thighs as he eats me until I teeter on the ledge of an orgasm. His words, the hunger in every flick of his tongue, shove me over the side. I come, gripping his head as I raise my chest and ride through the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.

As soon as I come down, rational thinking plows back into my mind. I take my hand away and go for the light switch. Somehow, he knows my move, and he’s on me before I reach it. He’s between my legs now, over me, with my hands pinned above my head.

“I thought you were going to be a good girl, but then you went for the light,” he hisses, and my wetness drips from his chin and onto my face. He’s so close that I can smell my arousal coating his skin. But I can’t see him. I can’t see anything.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“I’m leaving in the darkness. If you touch that light switch before you hear that front door close, I’ll come back next time you fall asleep, and I’ll kill you and wear your blood instead of your come. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

And just like that, his warm body leaves and I’m alone with a cold heaviness. My bedroom door opens and closes. My frontdoor opens and slams. When he’s gone, when I’msurehe’s gone, I turn on the bedroom light and look at the wet stain soaking the sheets. All that pleasure is from him waking me up with his tongue on me. From yet another assault that my body betrayed me over.

The encounter leaves me with two questions. Did I want to turn on the light to see a man I wanted more from? Or did I hope to find out who he was so I could call the goddamn police?

I don’t have an answer.

Chapter Seventeen

Maxim

Igrip the steering wheel and think about last night. It was ballsy of me to sneak into her home and take her cunt with my mouth, but I wouldn’t take it back. I loved making my therapist come on my tongue. The therapist who hates everything about me and dreads each and every week she has to see me.

But she only hates me until I’m between her legs. When I’m there, she squirms for me.

My cock hardens, and I rub my hand over my jeans, pressing against my length. I can’t stop thinking about those sounds she made and the way she clenched and twitched from pleasure. I want to feel that around my cock more than anything. I’m blind with that need.

I can’t help but wonder what she’d have done if I unzipped my pants and offered her the dicking she needed just as badly. Would she have let me slip inside her soaked cunt? Would I have been able to fill her like I filled that fruit?

Fuck.

I can’t go to my appointment with this rock-hard ache between my legs. I look around the lot and pull out my cock when I see no one around. My fingers glide up and down the sensitive skin as I relive last night.

I finger-fucked her in the woods the night before a session too. I wanted to see her agony face to face. Now, I want to see it again. The confused anguish as she thinks about me just as much as I think of her. Only, it’s not me she’s thinking of. It’s the man in the mask. Her boogeyman.

I stroke myself as I think about her sweet moans. Her trembling thighs on the sides of my head. I imagine fucking her, tearing her open for my selfish pleasure. Ripping her apart. She dangles in front of me, and I don’t know how much longer I can wait for her to give it up to me willingly. She doesn’t have to, of course, but I would love to see that same torn hunger that I felt on my tongue last night.

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