Page 12 of Bad for Me

“An hour.” I glance toward him. “Then we’ll let the game begin.”

7

MEREDITH

I screamthe entire ride home.

The sound is internal, never slipping past my lips. Yet it’s so loud, my bones vibrate and my ears ache. Even my throat grows sore halfway to my destination. The sound is so loud inside my head, it overpowers all thoughts. It shakes my eyeballs—blurring traffic and street lights—as if the snowfall isn’t hazardous enough to contend with. Is there no air in this car? Why can’t I breathe? Tears stream down my face. They cool dramatically in the cold car, but heat is the last thing I want right now.

My body is an ember, still burning from the aftermath of the Carlton men’s devastatingly exquisite touches.

Isaac’s cum has dried on my thigh. I’m hyper aware of it as I parallel park across the street from my townhouse. Thank god most of my neighbors are away for the holidays. Otherwise, there isn’t a chance in hell I would’ve been able to park without hitting someone’s car. Fumbling with my purse, I get out of the car and hurry across the street. Living close to downtown, right off one of the main roads where shops and restaurants reside in Annapolis, Maryland, the houses here boast both charm and history. It was one of the reasons I bought the brick three-story house.

Now, however, I’m regretting the accessibility to my house.

I slip in every once in a while to steal a pair of your used panties to cum in.Isaac’s confession, spoken with a smug smile and heated gaze, sinks deeper into my psyche. My breathing comes in ragged gasps as I tap my code into the keypad and shove my front door open.

The motion sensor lights I’d installed in the foyer flicker on. I pause under them. How did Isaac get past the lights? Did he know this area lit up on its own or was this a trial and error moment for him?

No, wait. He mentioned the back door.

Shit.

Racing through the house, I check the lock on the sliding glass door and put the safety bar behind it. Isaac won’t be getting in now. I stare out into my small backyard. It contains a deck with enough room for two wicker chairs and an end table. Beyond it sits a wooden fence that acts as a partition between the small grassy drain off space and my back neighbor’s property.

Did anyone notice Isaac’s nightly escapades? Would they have told me if they did? I’m not close with my neighbors, but I wouldhopethey’d call the cops if they saw suspicious behavior. Or at least come knock on my door.

Swallowing hard, I take a step back. My eyes remain glued to the snow-covered deck though. There aren’t any footprints. That means he’s not here yet. But that could change. Will he show up tonight? Tomorrow? Or will Isaac sit and wait to bask in the crumbling of my sanity as I wonder when he will appear?

With a growl of defiance, I reach up and yank the curtain into place. There. If I crack under the pressure, at least he won’t be able to watch. My dignity might be long gone, but I’ll be damned if I don’t work to regain it. My foot feels heavy as I lift it to turn. Every step into my kitchen that follows is unstable. My knees knock together, and every breath I try to take is shaky at best.

What have I done?

They may have pinned me to my desk and stuffed me full of cock like a Thanksgiving turkey but I could've left. I could’ve sat up, fought them off, screamed so loud thatsomeoneoutside would’ve heard and called the cops. Yet I laid there, quivering with desire and basking in their attention. I drank the cum of my boss like a trophy whore. My pussy milked the cum from my patient’s cock like it was it’s job.

What was I thinking? Why?Why? WHY did I allow that to happen?

A whimper slips past my lips but the sound of it brings me back into the moment. When did the screaming in my head stop? I’m not sure. Now that I’m aware of its absence, I’m ultra aware of the deafening silence. It feels oppressive. Bearing down on me until even the weak breaths I’m trying to scoop into my lungs feel inadequate.

I’m panicking. This out of control feeling ispanic.

I wish I could say it has everything to do with the very real fear of being taken advantage of. Iambeing blackmailed. If they leak that footage with me and Isaac to the world, I'll be ruined. But as I uncork one bottle of white wine and tuck another under my armpit, taking them with me while I hurry up the stairs, I can't help but try to outrun the small part of me that is over the moon about what transpired.

No, no, no! I can’t feel this way. It’s wrong. So terribly wrong. And yet… my body tingles as it replays the last hour in my office.

The mouth of my wine bottle tips between my lips, and I take a long swig of wine.

I stop in the threshold of my bedroom and flick on the lights. My feet don't take me any further though. I simply stand there, staring at my private sanctuary. The entire house looks straight out of a magazine, with nothing out of place and neutral colors, high-end furniture and minimal splashes ofmeanywhere. I designed the whole house like that on purpose. I like clean lines, natural accents, and warm lighting. There's something calming about minimal clutter.

But my bedroom?

It's like a whole other person lives here. Bright primary and secondary colors are accents against black walls. The colors are in the thick mosaic comforter, throw pillows with chaotic patterns, and in the throw rugs that are well worn and handmade from recycled material placed haphazardly around the room. There's no rhyme or reason to be seen. Knick-knacks adorn the tops of my dressers, and Mardi Gras beads and fairy lights hang from the corner of the full length mirror in the corner of the room.

With so much going on in here, there's no way I would've ever known someone had been in here.

Terror, overwhelming humiliation, and a deep stain of disgust spread across my chest, causing it to tighten. Another gulp of wine works its way down my throat. It's supposed to help. Instead, I feel the alcohol beginning to cloud my better judgment. Thoughts of Isaac watching me from my closet as I cum over and over again with a vibrator up my pussy and his name on my lips causes my skin to grow warm.

I'm sick in the head. I have to be if I find being stalked arousing. With that thought, I take another deep swig and step inside my room.

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