Page 22 of A Dark Infinity

All the bird inspired presents…

No, I can’t have been that blind. Can I?

“Don’t touch me,” I hiss, even though I know it’s useless. I’m completely at my stalker’s mercy, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him. Instead of making me more scared, the thought stirs a need inside me and I spread my legs wider.

“Is that an invitation?” he asks.

“I-I…”

“I think it is.” Without another word, he moves his hand between us and cups my drenched pussy. “You’re even wetter than you were last night,” he groans.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I do my best to regulate my breathing. I’m caught between being more turned on than ever, and feeling a heavy pinch of betrayal. At the same time, I’m also blaming myself. How did I now see it sooner?

He forcefully shoves two fingers into me, making me moan loudly when he curls them deep inside me so they graze my sweet spot. My back bows off the bed and I cry out for more. “Oh, I’m not even close to being done with you,” he groans, pumping his fingers faster and harder into me.

“Please,” I cry. “I’m so close.” I pull at my restraints. Not to break free, but so I can touch him.

I get lost in the rhythm as his fingers pound mercilessly into me, and it doesn’t take long before my eyes roll back in my face and I come on his fingers. He never stops moving, just keeps increasing his pace until I come a second time.

“Fuck,” I scream, wrapping my legs around him and try to both push him away and pull him closer.

He slides his fingers out of me, and I watch with morbid fascination as he sucks them into his mouth, licking them clean like he did the night in the alley. Only this time, his fingers are coated in my arousal instead of blood.

“You taste so fucking good, Little Bird,” he says, his voice making me want to preen.

I look up at the masked face. “Remove your mask,” I demand, needing to see it for myself.

He shakes his head. “Say my name first.”

“No,” I say stubbornly, even jutting out my chin like that’s going to help.

“I have all day, Little Bird. And I won’t let you come again until you say my name.”

Pinching my lips together, I turn my head and let my legs flop down on the mattress. I will not say his damn name. I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s him, but… I still don’t want to say it.

“Suit yourself,” he chuckles. Then he moves off the mattress and I watch him leave.

A moment later the sound of water cascading reaches me, and I stare longingly at the door he disappeared through. I could do with a shower, some food, and, oh yeah, my clothes. The need isn’t enough to make me cave, so when he strides back into the room, I turn my head again so I’m looking in the opposite direction.

I know it’s childish, especially since I’m now one hundred percent certain my stalker is Ethan. Either that, or my stalker just so happens to have completely identical tattoos on his hands and hip. Still, I won’t crack first.

Somehow, I manage to fall asleep again, and when I wake this time, my stomach is rumbling. The light coming through the blinds has moved, it’s no longer where it was this morning, so it must be later in the day. The smell of bacon reaches me, making my mouth salivate.

“Are you hungry?” Ethan taunts from somewhere in the room, but I continue to ignore him. “There’s a lovely brunch waiting for you. All you have to do is say my name, Little Bird.”

“Fuck you,” I hiss, my temper making me forget I didn’t want to acknowledge him.

He doesn’t speak again, but when I hear the rustling of clothes and retreating footsteps, I know he has left me again. To keep myself busy, I count the rafts on his ceiling. Sadly, it doesn’t keep me occupied for long, so I have to move onto something else. Fuck him and this room that’s almost completely void of patterns and other things to count.

“I hate you,” I scream at the top of my lungs. “I fucking hate you.” Right now, as the pressure on my bladder grows, that’s the ugly truth.

Ethan

Her screams of hatred only serve to amuse me further. Oh, how I love to hear those words from her lips, knowing it’s a lie. She might feel betrayed and angry, but she doesn’t hate me. My Little Bird is too stubborn to admit it to herself, but she craves me just as much as I crave her.

I meant what I said; the moment she says my name, I’ll let her go. There’s no doubt in my mind that she knows I’m her stalker, and yet she refuses to say it out loud. It’s both infuriating and strangely satisfying.

Observing Lark closely, my gaze fixated on her every movement. There’s a look of distress on her face, and I can’t help but notice the way she’s pressing her legs together. Is she uncomfortable? Does she need to pee? Oh, that’s just too fucking perfect.

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