Page 92 of The Invite
When he turns his head to look straight into the camera, it feels likehe’s peering into my soul even though I can’t see his eyes.
As if that’s not enough, my jaw drops when at the last second he takes both hands off the bike handles and balances it with his legs. A nanosecond later, the video finishes.
When the incessant ache between my thighs becomes unbearable, I shove my hands inside my leggings and rub my clit. The friction is so soothing and divine that I throw my head back and continuously flick the bundle of nerves until I shatter into a blissful orgasm that shakes me to the bone.
It was four days of pent-up need that made me come so quickly.
Yet I become more frustrated.
Panting, I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling in shame. It’s like my body hasn’t received the message that my sinistermonster is gone. With my emotions riding high, I snatch the phone from where it dropped to the side and open up the chat. My fingers tap on the screen at a furious pace and I hit send.
@nessatheatheist: Have I finally gotten rid of you?
My heart begins to race when after a good long minute, he comes online. It says he read my text and I wait for the dots to appear but nothing happens.
No reply comes from him.
The blatant disregard maddens me.
@nessatheatheist: You better not show your face in my house ever again, Augustus.
Again, he reads it but doesn’t apply.
@nessatheatheist: Take your damn car. I don’t want it.
@nessatheatheist: If it’s not gone by tomorrow, I’m getting it scrapped.
The lack of responses is somehow more humiliating than anything else he’s done. I truly feel like a toy that’s been discarded.
A loud knock at my door startles me and I jump.
Is Augustus here?
My body comes alive and I run to the front door, intending to give him a piece of my mind. But when I wrench open the door, cold air bombards me head to toe.
I look left and right on the street but I see no one. I swear if it’s Augustus doing a pra—
A familiar-looking envelope catches my eye on the doormat.
Anonymous.
I recognize it immediately as I bend to pick it up.
Christ! Not this again.
Shutting the door, I fling the envelope open, and read it.
Nessa,
The week is up and I’ve come to collect.
Is it something juicy?
Creepy?
It better fucking be.
You do want to win, don’t you?
