Page 21 of Downfall

We make our way upstairs, stealing glances and sly touches in the elevator, but hold ourselves together. As we approach my front door, I notice a package. It’s a plain cardboard box that could be from anywhere, but I don’t remember ordering anything. I pick it up to carry inside as Josh sweeps my hair to the side, kissing up the side of my neck. We stumble into the apartment, and I drop the box and my clutch on the kitchen island, turning in Josh’s arms to capture his mouth with mine.

Palming my ass, he lifts me, and I immediately wrap my legs around his waist, seeking glorious friction. His mouth moves to my throat and then my breasts as he walks into the living room, turning to sit on the couch and moving me to straddle his lap.

The chirping of my phone is an unwelcome interruption, but we ignore it as Josh’s hands and tongue make their way down my body. Concern finally washes through me when I receive a sixth text, and I break away, standing from the couch.

“Sorry, it must be important if whoever it is keeps texting like this,” I say, mirroring the annoyance on Josh’s face with my own.

I find my discarded purse on the kitchen island and pull out my phone.

As I silence my phone and tuck it back into my purse, more than a little disturbed by these texts from an unknown number, it lights up again.

What?

Who the fuck is this? And why do they even care what I’m doing?

I’ve gotten a few other strange texts from an unknown number over the past year or so, but they never said my name. I assumed they were wrong numbers.

I need to get Josh out of here. I don’t want him getting hurt because of me.

But first… I grab the package from the island and walk further into the kitchen, behind the wall with the stove and hood, so Josh can’t see me.

“Josh, do you want a drink?” I call, buying myself some time as I rip open the box.

“No. Come back. I’m not finished with you yet,” he yells back, and I would have obeyed in a heartbeat if I wasn’t staring down at a huge rubber dick nestled in tissue paper.

Under the massive dildo is a note, which I grab by the edge, not touching the toy.

“Um, yeah. Just a minute,” I say, trying to sound normal—like I’m not on the brink of a panic attack.

Mine is the only dick you need tonight.

My stomach twists in knots. I check the box, and my address isn’t on it. It wasn’t delivered with my mail. Whoever delivered this brought it straight to my door.

And what does it mean ‘Mine’?

I can’t do this right now. I have to get rid of Josh, then I can deal with my mounting panic.

I take a few deep breaths, calming myself, then stroll back into the living room as casually as I can. Any panic he sees on my face or in my body language, I can attribute to the only lie I can come up with in a rush.

“Look, Josh, I really wish I didn’t have to do this, but I don’t think the shrimp I had at the restaurant is sitting well. I’m going to need to take a rain check.” It isn’t hard to sound upset because I truly am. Josh is a great guy, and I am still turned the fuck on. Even through the anxiety of the last few minutes, I wish I could just get one quick orgasm without risking him getting hurt, or worse. I don’t know who this person is or what they are capable of.

With concern on his face, Josh gets up off the couch and rounds the coffee table to pull me into a gentle embrace.

“No worries. Let’s do this again soon. I had a great time, and I’d love to see you again.”

“Me too,” I tell him, even though I know I won’t be able to go out with him again. Not until I get rid of my potential stalker.

I walk Josh to the door, and he kisses my cheek before sauntering down the hallway toward the elevator. Not sure what to do with myself now that my plans for the evening have been derailed, I head toward my bedroom to change into leggings and a hoodie.

As I walk past the kitchen, the box catches my eye. I can’t believe I’m thinking about it, but I am still so aroused that the sex toy in that box sounds pretty damn good. Reaching into the box, I wrap my fingers around the shaft, lifting it out to feel its weight. It’s long and heavy, with a suction cup at the base. My thumb and middle finger barely touch around its girth, and my spine tingles as I imagine the feeling of it inside of me.

Fresh arousal washes through me as I move to the kitchen sink, thoroughly washing my new date. I feel the desire pool between my thighs as I slick the soap up and around the thick head. I’ve only ever used a vibrator, never something as realistic as this, so I’m also nervous, but mostly excited to try it.

Anticipation has me bouncing on my toes as I grab a couple of paper towels to dry it quickly before heading to my room and tossing it on my bed. I undress, caressing my soft skin as I do. Lying down fully naked, I take my time tugging on my nipples, rolling them between my fingers, then skating my fingers lower, down my stomach to my center.

A soft sigh leaves my lips as my fingers graze my clit, then dip into my wetness. Between my foreplay with Josh and the exhilaration of trying something new, I'm soaking.

Sliding my arousal back to my clit, I draw small circles with two fingers, around and around until I'm moaning. The fantasy man I pictured before was faceless, just someone with great abs and an enormous cock who knew all the right places to touch and kiss to make me see stars. But now, I've had a fantasy man in the flesh. It's been over a year since I've seen or heard from him, but he still stars in all of my fantasies, my imagination conjuring him over any celebrity or flawless dream guy.

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