His Lordship: Take it off.
Startled by his command, I find the brain cells to reply.
Emmie: Take what off?
His Lordship: The man’s shirt you’re wearing that doesn’t belong to me. Take. It. Off. Now.
Well, if there was any doubt that he was watching, I guess that well and truly obliterates it.
Wrapping my fingers around the bottom of the shirt, I tug it from beneath me and lift it up my stomach but stop before I expose my breasts.
Emmie: Why are you the only one who gets to see anything?
His Lordship: Because I won. Now take it off. Show me how hard your nipples are for me.
Emmie: I hate you.
His Lordship: Is that why your pussy is so slick for me. Hate?
“Yes,” I hiss, assuming he can’t actually hear me, but what the fuck ever.
Releasing my phone, I drag the shirt over my head and throw it at the window, laughing as it collides with the glass and falls to the floor.
His Lordship: I love your fire. Makes me so fucking hard.
“Show me,” I moan, squeezing my breast and pinching my peaked nipple until a moan rumbles in the back of my throat.
My phone buzzes.
“Holy fu—” I sit bolt upright. “How’d you do that?” I ask, staring at the window.
His Lordship: Trust me, Hellcat.
Emmie: Never.
His Lordship: Lie back, prop your phone up so you can see it. You’re going to need both of your hands.
“Oh God,” I moan, doing exactly as I’m told, because, despite my better judgement, I’m fucking powerless but to follow his demands.
His Lordship: Just the devil, babe. Don’t be mistaken by my looks.
“Conceited dick,” I half snap, half moan as I take the lead and cup both of my heavy breasts in my palms.
His Lordship: Pinch your nipples. Hard. Imagine it’s my teeth.
“Theo,” I cry, my back arching off the bed as I follow orders.
His Lordship: So. Fucking. Beautiful.
His Lordship: I’m aching for you, babe. Fucking aching.
“Touch yourself. I want to imagine your hand wrapped around your cock,” I moan.
His Lordship: Can’t do that, babe. Remember what I said earlier. Only you.
“You’re not actually serious?”
His Lordship: Deadly.
His Lordship: I need you.
His Lordship: I want you.
His Lordship: I’m fucking dying for you.
His Lordship: Touch yourself, Hellcat. Show me how you play that pretty pussy.
I’m a moaning, writhing, desperate ball of lust as my hand slides down my belly.
“Yes,” I hiss when my fingers connect with my swollen clit.
His Lordship: You fucking undo me Emmie Cirillo.
“Theo,” I cry, letting my other hand join the party and pushing two fingers deep into my pussy.
I don’t care whether he’s doing it or not, the second my eyes slam shut, I picture him with his hand wrapped around his cock, his muscles pulled tight as he works himself almost violently in his need to be here with me.
“Yes, yes,” I chant as my release surges forward thanks to my imagination.
My phone continues to buzz but I don’t look. I can’t peel my eyes open to see what he’s saying as I race toward the breakpoint I’ve been desperate for all day.
“Oh God. Yes. Theo. THEO,” I scream, probably way too loudly with my stepmum downstairs, but fuck it. I needed this. I needed this so fucking badly.
Utterly spent, my body sinks into the mattress as my heart pounds, my muscles twitch and endorphins on top of endorphins fill my blood.
Fuck. I needed that.
I might have got myself off last night while I was talking to him. But knowing he was watching took the experience to a whole new level. A twisted and deviant level I didn’t know I needed but now totally crave.
My phone continues to buzz somewhere beside me, but it takes me longer than I’m sure is really necessary to finally move to find it.
When I light it up, I discover I’ve got the longest stream of the filthiest messages I’ve ever read in my life as Theo explained to me in vivid detail just how watching me made him feel.
His words ignite another inferno inside me and I quickly find myself rubbing my thighs together in an attempt to squash another wave of desire taking over me.
Wrong. So wrong.
But it’s his final message that gives me pause and throws cold water over my out-of-control libido.
His Lordship: I need you, babe. So fucking bad. Tell me you’re coming this weekend. I know Stella’s invited you.
“Shit,” I hiss, shifting on the bed so I can pull the sheets over my rapidly cooling body.
The longer I lie there staring at that message, the more my skin burns with his stare despite the covers hiding me from him.
He wants an answer. He deserves an answer. But I don’t have one.
I shouldn’t go, I know that. I should stand my ground, let them all go and do their thing. It would be safer for me to stay here, to lock myself in my room and forget all about them having fun.
So why is it that the thought of letting them go without me sends a shooting pain through my chest?
I finally have friends. The kind I’ve always wanted. I shouldn’t squander this chance to be normal.
Fuck the crazy psychopaths who seem to be after me. They shouldn’t have me cowering and hiding in my fucking bedroom like a pussy.
But even as I think it, a rush of fear that still lingers from being locked up in that cell—even if it was for only a short time—races through me.
Unable to answer his demand but not willing to just ghost him after everything that just happened, I start tapping out a reply.
Emmie: Good night, Theo. Sleep well. x
Immediately, I put my phone on aeroplane mode and breathe out a sigh of relief before throwing the covers off and rushing toward the window. I keep my eyes down, not wanting to risk seeing him out there, if he actually is, as I tug the curtains closed.
I hoped that I might feel some kind of relief cutting myself off from him, from the outside world, but as I walk across the room, ignoring the old Reapers shirt I was wearing and pulling out a pair of my own pyjamas, the only thing I can focus on is the tight knot of anxiety sitting heavy in my belly.
I stop, resting my palms on my dresser, and take a few deep breaths.
I was meant to walk away. To sever whatever this thing was between us. To stand firm in my quest to prove that Theo, his father, my grandfather are all fucking certifiable for this whole situation.
I don’t care that Theo was as blindsided with it as I was. He accepted it and followed Daddy’s orders. He lied, used me, played me, tormented me.