Page 30 of Look What You Made Me Do

Goddamn.If I’m gettinganysleep tonight, then I’ll have to rub one out.

Reaching into my nightstand, I find the razor blade and my vibrator, then I settle against my pillows and slide one hand beneath the waistband of my panties, touching the tip of my finger to my clit. I’d use my vibrator, but I just need a quick release.

With my legs spread wide, I’m just starting to find a rhythm when movement at the end of my bed catches my eye. My fan is loud—the white noise drowns out my noisy ass neighbors—so I don’t initially hear the French door open. But Idohear the click when it shuts, and my heart immediately kicks into red-alert territory.

Didn’t I double-check to make sure the patio doors were locked? I’m sure I did. It’s part of my bedtime routine now. But I was distracted, so maybe I didn’t?

Slowly, I drop the small razor blade and pull my hand out of my panties. I’m frozen, not sure what to do. In the dark, I see a figure come into view, backlit by the light coming in from the French doors. His large frame is silhouetted by the street light streaming in through my semi-transparent curtains.

For several long seconds, he just stands at the end of my bed, watching me. In the dark, I’m almost certain he can’t tell that I’m awake. I can’t see him very well, so I’m sure he can’t see me either. I take the opportunity to study what Icansee, which, admittedly, isn’t much. But his large frame and the way he’s standing both feel familiar to me.

Silently, he moves around to the left side of my bed. The closer he gets, the faster my heart thumps against my ribs. It feels like every last drop of blood has been drained from my body, and I’m starting to feel lightheaded.

When he reaches out for me with his gloved hand, I can’t help it, I flinch instinctively, which gives away the fact that I’m awake.Fuck.

“W-what do you want?” I ask, my lips trembling.

A low chuckle is the only response I get. He reaches for me again, catching me by the elbow this time. His grip is hard and tight, and I yelp as he hauls me out of bed. I trip over my own feet as he drags me over to my small, messy kitchenette.

I’m pulling against him, but he’s too strong, and he yanks me around like a fucking rag doll.

Gabriel had a mean streak, and he was selfish as fuck, but he never manhandled me or forced me to have sex with him. But, then again, he never had to force me, did he? I could see him doing it, though. He could be very controlling when he wasn’t getting his way.

But then again, half the guys in the Burning Crown are the same way. Who's to say the masked man isn’t one of them?

“I’m going to scream,” I threaten. Only after the words leave my mouth do I regret them, though. Why am I giving him a heads-up on what I’m about to do?Fuck. I guess I’d hoped that if I made the threat, it would get him to back off.

Spoiler alert; it doesn’t.

Instead, he just spins me around, and yanks me harshly against him, my back colliding with his rock-hard chest. Then he pulls his gloves off, shoving them into his pocket before clamping one hand over my mouth, making it impossible for me to scream now.

“Oh, you’ll scream, but not until I let you,” he whispers harshly against my ear, the soft fabric of his mask brushing across my cheek. “Do you understand?”

When I don’t answer him, he tugs me against his chest again sharply. “Do. You. Understand?”

I can’t speak, obviously, so I nod in response.

Satisfied, he removes his hand from my mouth. I’m still pinned against him, his arm encircled around my waist, making it impossible for me to get away. I push against him anyway, though. Even though I know it’s pointless.

“Tell me what you want,” I say. “I don’t have any money. I don’t have anything valuable.”

I don’t know why I said that. Panic, maybe? If I had anything worth stealing—and I don’t—he’s had countless opportunities to break in and make off with it. He moves in and out of my apartment with ease, apparently. Even with my upgraded security measures.

“Nothing valuable,” he laughs roughly. Do I know that laugh? Do I recognize it? One strong hand slides down my body, dipping between my thighs. He rubs my clit through the thin fabric of my panties. “Thisis what I’m here for.”

Clenching my jaw, I try desperately to keep my body from responding to his touch. This is wrong. Me enjoying this depraved thing iswrong, so I force my thoughts to my business ethics class, which is quite possibly the most boring subject in human history.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I imagine my professor droning on about social norms and ethical decision-making, while the stranger pulls the crotch of my panties aside, and brushes my pussy lips lightly with the tips of his fingers.

Fucking hell.

“Get off me you fucking psycho,” I grate out, using my elbow to try and create distance between our bodies. But the more I push, the tighter his arms clamp around my body. “I don’t want this.”

It’s like he doesn’t even hear me. After teasing me, his fingers push into my channel, which means he has to lean forward a little, pressing his masked cheek against my temple, his warm breath penetrating the thin fabric and brushing over my skin.

I bite back a moan.

“You don’t want this, eh?” I can hear the amusement in his deep baritone. “Your cunt is soaking wet for me.”

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