Page 112 of Texting Dr. Stalker

One word that ensured I gave in.

“Please…”

* 29 *

Sailor

Mask Fetish Unlocked

I HATED MYSELF FOR PUSHING HIM TO DO something he didn’t want to do.

I did my best to take my pleading back.

To be strong enough to do this on my own and stop using someone for my own gain.

But…I couldn’t.

For the first time in my life, I really, truly,desperatelyneeded someone. Not sexually. Not physically. But in all the ways he made me feel: protected, cherished,seen. Every fractured piece. Every distorted part. He saw all of me, yet he didn’t judge me or pity me or shame me.

I ought to be petrified.

A man in a mask and baseball cap pinned me to my bed and glowered at me with such intensity, I felt his stare in my soul.

Yet all I felt was safe. Soexquisitelysafe.

I had no more tears. No more self-doubt or hate or guilt.

I hummed and burned, and even if he said no to helping me, I might, just might, be able to achieve a happy ending on my own if he left me with more memories like this one.

When he hugged me from behind, I’d felt so sheltered.

When he flipped me onto my back and grabbed my chin, I felt so bare, so open, sowanted.

He gave off such a caring, secretive vibe with the occasional explosion of dominating masculinity.

It scrambled my senses, set fire to my system, and left me shaky and achy and…

“Please,” I whispered again, staring at the painted skull covering where his lips would be. The toothy grimace only added to the dynamic that I was the weak one while he was the one in my control.

He willingly gave me every power over him without speaking. I saw it in the way he watched me and felt it in the way he touched me. He told me, loud and proud, that his crush for me was real, thatthiswas real, and everything else didn’t matter.

Tugging one of my arms from under the covers, I reached for his mask.

I managed to tug it enough to reveal a part of his nose before his fingers locked around my wrist and pulled my hand away.

He shook his head just once.

He clucked his tongue.

He doused me with gasoline and struck a match that made fire erupt and heat burn and all I wanted to do was kiss him.

“If you won’t sleep with me…kiss me?” I flicked my stare from his mask to his eyes, once again asking for something I shouldn’t. “Kiss me and you can go.”

With a snarl, he rolled off me and pulled his mask back into position. “You’re definitely trying to kill me.” Propping himself up with his elbow, he supported his head and stared at me. “And nice try, but I won’t remove my mask.”

“Ah, yes.” I nodded seriously. “The boils.”

He chuckled quietly. “Exactly.”

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