Page 7 of Our Little Cliche
It’s all consensual.
Kind of.
There she lies, naked and unconscious in her puddle of desire for the inconspicuous masked man who she would assume was her boyfriend when she wakes up. He brings her to climax again, and again, and again until she’s completely wasted, and satisfied in all of the ways she needed.
That’s it. That’s what I want.To fulfill a woman’s every desire is all I can dream of, even if they’re slightly sinister like this. Serving a woman to the best of my ability would be a dream come true. Whatever she would ask of me I would do. Cook forher, bathe her, brush her hair, give her a basketful of orgasms—even if it meant being unable to climax myself. If she asked me to chase her down into the deepest, darkest forest, I would. If she begged me to claim her in public I would…for her. Hell, I'd marry her every Sunday after reading the newspaper together if she asked me.
To find a woman to love like that is a gift.
But to worship the ground she walks on is a pleasure.
Adrenaline spikes through my veins and I make fast movements from the tip to the base of my shaft then slower, softer movements to edge myself to oblivion. Sweat coats my body as I work myself like this for a few minutes or hours, even, putting all of my focus on rolling my thumb over the glossy head to lubricate my strokes, then letting the heat and pleasure radiate across my body.
So close.
My chest works hard to capture my breaths as they come in as fast as they go. I imagine myself wearing a disguise, covering my face with a mask and finding my girl—if I had one—peacefully sleeping in my bed, where I would pull the covers aside to reveal her haven for me to devour with my tongue, tasting every bit of her like my life depended on it. I imagine her gloss to taste like sacred nectar. Sweet, yet savory.
That’sdefinitelywhat I want.
I pick up the tempo and with each stroke the pressure builds down low, my balls tightening with need. “Oh fuck,” I groan. When my body reacts I become rigid as hot ropes of cum spill from the tip of my length onto my stomach, chest and hand. My eyes roll back into my head as the creamy white liquid continues to stream in abundance.
When I finally catch my breath, I clean myself up with a quick steamy shower, locate my tossed clothes and decide tofinish reading what’s left in my office before I get a nagging call again.
A subtle ding of an email notification from my Macbook wakes me. I’d fallen asleep on my desk.The things I do to meet a deadline. I lift my head and the signal of a sore body hits me. Ouch. That’ll teach me.
I open the letter icon on my screen, it’s a reply from Quinn—two actually, one from earlier and one just now.
—————————
From:[email protected]
Date:12/1/25
Time:5.03 A.M
Subject:In The Shadows Acceptance
Thank you for the confirmation. I’ll have copies printed and expressed to my desk, ready for this launch.
—————————
From:[email protected]
Date:12/1/25
Time:10.27 A.M
Subject:Big News
Stone!! Get your finest brine and olives ready, it’s going to be a big one next week. The media will be there, broadcasters and whoever else. Tickets have already sold out, they were gone in less than 9 mins.200 tickets, Stone!
This could be the ladder climb we’re dreaming of! If this book hits USA Today, the next book will pull us up to the New York Times, so keep writing!
On another note, just keeping you in the loop, we’re going to need more hands on deck now, so I’m expanding the team. Graham’s leaving us soon, so I’ll need another editor, maybe even two… one for you and another for everyone else. I’ll put up an ad online at some stage next week for a personal assistant so you can stay home and focus on work, maybe someone who can do some odd jobs so you can lock in, but I’ll leave deciding who to hire to you since they’ll be living with you.
