Page 25 of Under the Bed

White latex. Black eye holes that let him see without being seen.

Rough brown hair that’s nothing like his. My stepbrother’s hair was always cut short. Always perfectly messy.

Maybe that was why he liked the mask. So he could appear as flawed and damaged as he must’ve felt.

I know I could use one. I’m damaged. A horrible, deplorable person.

The reason he’d been locked up.

Me.

“Kaleb.” I drop to my knees, setting the box aside. The mask is in my hands, and now it’s just me and him.

The heat between my legs can’t mean anything good. This isn’t right. It makes no sense, my physical reaction to his mask.

His mask.

This isn’t a meltdown. Isn’t a panic attack.

This is longing. This is pain.

This is a sick kind of love no one should ever feel. Not for their stepbrother. Not for a murderer. Not for a man they haven’t talked to in eleven years.

It is what it is. A vile desire.

This is hell.

I slide the closet door shut.

The texture of the latex in my hands is comforting, though it really shouldn’t be.

It takes the edge off. Air filters into my lungs. I need more. I need to be protected. Sheltered.

I need to be his.

This temptation has to go away. The throbbing between my thighs needs to stop.

Impossible.

With each passing second, the buzzing in my body grows. Multiplies.

I close my eyes, imagining him. Blank, black eyes stare at me. Heated ones. Tempting ones.

I’m not that far gone that I think Kaleb’s here in spirit. I’m fully aware that my obsession with him is triggering me to feel his presence, regardless.

He’s the boogeyman, true.

He’s also the kid I called my brother. The reason I was excited to come home every day.

He’s a man. A really hot one. I’ve never met anyone as terrifying as he is. No one’s brought up these emotions in me.

My fingers squeeze the mask, thumbs rubbing the coarse material. I raise it until it’s at eye level with me.

I’m panting as I draw it closer to my face. The lips are inches from mine, and my pussy is soaked, my nipples tightening. Electricity pulses through me, one painful, humiliating current after the other.

No, Kaleb isn’t there.

But I do feel him. I do.

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