Page 53 of Hunt for You

I needed to do something. My head was scrambled, but as I mentally searched for a task, a mission,something,my eyes fell on my phone sitting innocently on my desk and I smiled.

Oh no you don’t, Cain.No you don’t.

Then I tapped through to Nate’s profile.

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***SYSTEM NOTE: CHAT ENCRYPTED END-TO-END. ENSURE ALL ACCOUNTS ARE LOGGED OFF BEFORE DISCONNECTING.***

DeadGirlWalking:NATE! I need help.

PurplePeoplEater:What’s going on?

DeadGirlWalking:How would I tell if someone’s added some kind of tracker on my phone, or is getting my messages, or something.

PurplePeoplEater:What did you do?

DeadGirlWalking:I tell you someone did something to me and you decide it’s my fault?

PurplePeoplEater:Babe, it *always* starts with you.

DeadGirlWalking:Fair enough. But it’s too long a story, so right now, I just need you to tell me how to check my phone and get rid of any viruses or tracking apps, or anything I might not know are there.

[PurplePeoplEater is typing…]

~ CAIN ~

My phone was ringing as I burst in the door at home, but I ignored it, throwing the door closed behind me and rushing through the house that was half-dark because I hadn’t opened the blinds this morning before I left.

My body was urgent. Demanding.Insistent.

After watching to make sure she got back safely and found the package, I’d spent the entire drive home buzzing. I’d thought it would pass, but every time I’d start to calm down, I’d get an image in my head of her spread-eagled on the ground, or hearthe memory of that cackling laugh when she knew I was coming after her.

I’d remember her scent and my cock would twitch.

I stalked through the house, half-blind with lust, and straight into the bathroom, stripping off and leaving my clothes on the floor because I was already running late and I had a meeting and I had to get cleaned up, butdear God, I needed her.

Stepping into the hot spray—that should have been cold, I should have been turning my mindawayfrom her—I groaned and took myself in hand.

A few seconds. I would give myself a few fucking seconds to just be with her, and then I’d go back to normal life.

Normal responsibilities.

Normal. The act… the pretend I was forced to play every day that I didn’t have to play with her andoh fuck.

Planting one hand on the shower tile, the water streaming off my back, I let my mind turn back to the sight of her, utterly surrendered, spread-eagled, and holding back her own sounds of lust as I touched her.

She was devastating.

And I began to pump into my own hand like I was thirteen again.

Seconds—seconds of her full lips, parted, her panting breaths, her body slick for me, her back arched—seconds of remembering thefeelingof her holding herself back because I’d told her to, and I was bellowing, gasping, shooting all over the wall, my body trembling…

And then I sagged, resting my burning forehead on the cool tile and gritting my teeth as my body slowly, slowly came back under control. As my mind slowly cleared, and in the wake of all that deliciousneed,the shame and fear of what I was doing washed back over me, coated my skin so I felt thirteen again, butthis time curled up in a corner trying to stop hearing my father’s drunken rant.

No one is ever going to want you, you freak.

I don’t want you. You’re a fucking disgrace.

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