Page 8 of Of Blood and Smoke

His arm curved over me, fingers reaching between my thighs. I let him swirl them around for several seconds, but it just wasn’t happening. I batted the irritation away.

“It's okay, let's just go to sleep.” Suddenly feeling bad over possibly offending him, I took his hand and moved it to my waist so we could spoon. I felt him relax behind me and nuzzle the back of my head before he settled in.

Sleep claimed me while I was snuggled in against Brett but I woke up to him being gone. If he was going to leave before the sun rose, he always let me know ahead of time. He hadn’t said a word. I tried to sit up, but found I couldn’t move—I couldn’t even turn my head.

My body was stuck flat to the mattress.

My heart began thumping as panic overtook me. I couldn’t see Brett and didn’t know what to do. Had I injured myself in my sleep? My phone sat uselessly on my nightstand, and I quietly berated myself for not setting it up with voice activation.

Yelling for my dad seemed like my only option. Taking a deep breath, I screamed for him only to find my voice oddly muffled as if I were underwater. With my heart relentlessly pounding away under my rib cage I tried to scan the room.

My vision was restricted too, because I couldn’t move my head. From what I could see, the air had a foggy quality, almost as if humidity clung to every corner. Every worst-case scenario I could possibly come up with tried to run through my head, but I knew blind panic wouldn’t help.

A movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention and I spied a black figure slowly approaching my bed like something out of a nightmare before the invader came into my line of sight.

My eyes darted to the left, the direction the man had turned. The bed sank below me, and yet I still couldn’t move my neck. The figure sat on the edge of the mattress and leaned over, placing his hand on my right side. He was so tall I couldn’t see his head, just a swath of black fabric hanging loosely, edged with a silver zipper or some type of shiny trim. A patch of lightly tanned skin was exposed just below his neck where a silver chain rested, reflecting the light streaming through my room’s curtains.

Silently, I willed Brett not to come back in the room, fearful of what the man may do, and I prayed he’d left without saying goodbye and wasn’t off somewhere in the apartment doing god knows what.

The man’s hip pressed against my side and his other hand appeared. All I could do was watch as he brought it down in front of my face. His pointer finger pressed my chin before he dragged a nail down my neck, tracing the tendons until he reached the base. His touch sent a sharp chill down my spine. The fear was all-encompassing, every nerve in my body vibrating with mortal terror, while something I didn’t want to acknowledge, a deeper, darker undercurrent ran just below the surface as well.

Fighting the hold over me, I pulled my gaze as far down as I could. I wanted to remember something I could use, something identifiable for a police report. All I had was black. Black and silver. The glint of his chain, the shine of his zipper, the lamp’s reflection off the rings gracing his fingers. I tried to take note of the design of the jewelry but couldn’t make it out.

Then, there was the shape of his hands. From what I could observe, they were perfectly formed, as if he were a naturallygifted piano player, the digits long and sleek, graced with glassy nails. This was no ordinary thief—not if the man could afford the level of maintenance and manicures my potential assailant appeared to indulge in.

Forgetting my imminent demise and with my fear ebbing, I watched in fascination as the finger trailed lower, leaving my field of vision, to trace the curve of my breast. The organ in my chest resumed its wild cadence as the touch moved to my nipple. I felt rather than saw it pebble while he wound a circle around it, sending a dart of heat between my legs. It felt like a violation but confusingly, the sensation wasn’t physically unwelcome. I knew I was supposed to be upset, I knew I wasn’t supposed to indulge in depraved dreams of a monster having authority over me.

The air around the figure was intriguingly dominant and fascinatingly masculine, drawing images in my mind I’d only ever fantasized about. The man hadn’t hurt me, he’d just let himself into my home. If he meant injury, he would’ve already, right? Someone else taking control for once would not be unwelcome, especially in the bedroom.

The remnants of my aborted orgasm from earlier in the evening were thrilled at the prospect of completion while my brain kept screamingno, no, no. I wasn’t supposed to get turned on by a home invader. Sixty seconds ago, I’d been scared I was about to get murdered and now I was scared he wouldn’t get me off.

I was still arguing with myself over morals and ethics when the blanket was slowly drawn down. I expected to feel cooler air flow over me, but the room seemed to have no temperature. All I could hear was thewhooshof blood echoing in my ears and all I could see was the black mass looming over me, though I sensed he wanted to move in closer.

He bent over, just then, and I cast my gaze upward, hoping for a revealing glimpse of the visitor. It was too dark to make outany facial features beneath the draped hood, but I kept trying, my brain attempting to piece together a face. I longed to move but I might as well have been in chains, still unwillingly trapped against the mattress.

Every time I attempted to open my mouth to speak, I listened to the words that slipped over my tongue. They flew out, without any separation of my lips and without any reaction from the faceless man. It was as impossible to tell if he heard me as it was to know what he was doing in my room, my words seeming to float around aimlessly and without any weight.

The power that emanated from the tall, dark man prickled over my skin, both exciting me and enthralling me. It filled the entire atmosphere as if he were in control of all the forces of the universe. His aura seemed to be such a tangible, material force, that if I could just move, it’d have been visible. Inexplicably, I wanted to throw myself into his arms for safe keeping, even though he was likely the very thing I needed protection from.

I’d locked up when Ashley and Andy left. The deadlock, knob lock, and multiple chains had all been secured right behind them and there were no circumstances under which I’d have done anything differently.

The fabric of my tank top ruffled as the man brushed his fingers down my chest, and I could feel the light scraping of his nails against my flesh. After they lingered on my belly, he very carefully tugged my sleeping shorts down, pulling the waistband to my hipbones. If I’d have been able to tell whether I was breathing or not, I would’ve sucked in my breath.

The man stood up abruptly and then climbed onto the bed before kneeling over me. He leaned in, trailing his nose over my stomach and I felt his lips separate over my skin. His tongue flicked out, as if he were taking a sample taste of my flesh and I felt him shiver while the material of his head covering skimmedmy belly. I didn’t want to like the feeling, didn’t want to pray for him to wander further south but that’s exactly what happened.

The gap between my thighs was damp from his attention and I felt his jaw stretch as his mouth glided over my mound. He separated my lower lips with a long stroke of his tongue, and I felt his deep inhale.

The unidentified man kept his hands on my hips but used an elbow to spread my legs open wider before he ducked back down. Sucking, licking, and twirling, he teased me, sending hot darts of pleasure coursing up and down my body.

It was a fantastic torture, to be compelled to writhe and buck under his expert attention and not be able to. I was certain tears of ecstasy would’ve been streaming down my cheeks, had I been mobile. More than anything, I wanted to see the face of this person who’d boldly let themselves into my house just to eat me out and send me to heights of bliss I’d never known were attainable.

My legs, or perhaps my whole body, would have been shaking if I’d had any control over my limbs. Wave after sweet wave rolled through me, cresting and spreading from the top of my head to the ends of my toes. My back felt like it arched off the bed, but I hadn’t moved a muscle. Finally, the pleasure abated, and my heart rate slowed to a normal level. The floating sensation disappeared when the stranger lifted himself off the comforter and strolled to my side.

He raised his hands, adjusting his hood and I almost thought I’d catch a glimpse, but the shadows stubbornly clung to what I felt positive would’ve been a beautiful face. It better have been, if I was going to let a criminal molest me. My voice of reason began to berate me over my horrific justification, but I tamped it back down.

I strained, putting all my effort into trying to make myself heard and ask who he was but I might as well have tried to drainthe ocean. Leaning over, he skated his lips along my cheekbone and stopped beside my hairline with one hand grasping my head behind my ear.

His warm breath sent an electric tingle down my spine as he whispered, “Forgive me.”

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