Unknown number: I can’t stop thinking about your lips wrapped around my dick while you cried.
I stare at it until I’m forced to blink.
Keira: King?
Unknown number: You could have used the safe word anytime you wanted, but you chose not to.
When I don’t respond, another text message comes through.
King: I jerked off as soon as I got home. I can’t get the image of you on your knees out of my fucking head.
It’s followed by another.
King: Ignoring me won’t make me go away. Not after the little show you put on.
Keira: What do you want?
King: Meet me down at Blackwoods Bay. Do you know the trail that leads through the forest?
Me: Why should I meet you there?
Heat sinks to my clit when I remember how brutally he fucked my mouth. I shouldn’t want him to do it again.
King: You know why.
Chewing on my lip, I consider my options and then berate myself. I can’t possibly want to play a game of consensual non-consensual sex with King when there’s a killer on the loose. It’s the definition of reckless.
Keira: I can’t… I have a police guard now. If I leave the house, they’ll follow.
King: Too scared?
Keira: What if you’re the killer?
King: Maybe I am. Does that turn you on?
I start to type out a response, then delete it, staring at the screen. Does the thought of being chased and ravaged by someone who could possibly be the killer turn me on? I don’t even want to go there with my mind. The truth is too shameful to admit, even to myself. Fuck… I need psychological help. But the last therapist my mom sent me to blinked at me, wide-eyed, when I admitted to some of my darkest secrets. I never saw him again.
I sit up and crane my neck to look out the window. The cop car is still parked across the road. I can’t exactly leave the house… unless…
I bet no one is watching the back door. I could sneak out and take the trail that cuts through the forest.
Looking down at his latest text, I war with myself. While I’m intrigued by his dark side, I also know it’s a bad idea to be in his spotlight. I try so very hard to act normal. To blend in. And along comes King, who sets me back at square one.
“Fuck!” I growl, falling back onto the bed.
Why am I torturing myself like this? I’m already acting recklessly by fucking my stepdad. Why am I considering this, too? But then I remember how it felt when he pressed the knife to my throat and told me I only got one word.
How freeing it was.
No, I’m not going there. Not when there’s a psycho stalker on the loose. I’m staying right here. In my bed. Where it’s safe.
My thoughts shatter when my phone lights up with another message.
Cassie: Did you hear what happened? There was another attack. Madison is in the hospital.
Reading over the text, I shoot upright in bed, all thoughts of King gone.
Keira: Another attack?