Page 84 of Shadowface

Pretty girl?

I shoot my head up and peer around the now empty campus, my heart in my throat as those darkened sun rays now blend into the earth and sky.

Mikael. In a moment, he’s shifted. I don’t think Lincoln’s the one talking to me anymore, and he’s here somewhere.

My gaze finally settles on him in the shadows of the trees, watching me like he always does. The final stream of sun hit my eyes, causing me to squint, but I can make out the mask staring back at me. The familiar tightness wraps around my muscles and pleasure builds between my legs at the sight of him.

I reach down and press the call button, and I watch him move his hand to his pocket; he picks it up on the second ring but doesn’t lift the phone to his ear. He’s so still…he looks like a scarecrow, and I have to remind myself to breathe.

“How do I know which one of you is watching me right now?” I ask in a meek voice.

A small shift of his head. A breeze shuffling the leaves high above. “You don’t,” he says. I can hear him so clearly through the phone.

I bite my lip and watch him, too scared to move, too scared to stay, but knowing running won’t matter.

Something washes over me. I close my eyes for a moment, enjoying the cool wind on my face, as a tiny drop of rain hits my cheek, and then another.

He doesn’t move, but I grab a nearby stick and my breath immediately lengthens as I slip my dress above my knees, keeping myself propped up as possible, arching my back.

Just seeing him in that mask, knowing two of them are blended together under one…

I don’t need the moisture of the rain to slide the stick inside me—he already has me dripping wet. I slide my panties down one leg and close my eyes, slipping the edge of the stick inside me.

The pressure immediately subsides. I’m so sexually frustrated, like nothing in this world can satisfy me. I let out a moan as I work it a few inches deeper, but I don’t take my eyes off him. His expression is neutral, as to be expected in that hideous mask of insidiousness, as I slide this stick further inside me.

My phone pings, and I glance down at it.

His voice rises from the phone. “Harder, pretty girl. I want you to fuck yourself so hard, you sever your body.”

I push the stick fast, its edges tearing me, but I don’t care. I push it in, harder and faster—dirtier—giving him the show he wants.

The fact he’s the most dangerous man alive only makes me wetter, hornier, hotter. The build up starts to ease as my orgasm builds and the stick is much wetter than it should be because of how much juice is flowing out of me.

Keeping my one hand on the stick, I close my eyes and let the orgasm be what it is…pretending that I’m fucking him instead.

I open my eyes as my orgasm blooms, the heat building within warms me up. I keep fucking myself as he stands across the lawn by a large tree, watching me.

I bring the phone to my mouth. “How long are we going to play this game, Mikael?”

He tilts his head and doesn’t respond. But it was enough of a response…he reacted to the name.

Mikael.

The line goes quiet.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I pushed him too hard. I’m being too needy. A group of students pass by, and I quickly pull the stick out of myself and hug my knees to my chest, tossing the stick and the phone a few feet away from me. My mouth is like chalk as they walk by me, and I try to hide my shaking as they stare at me awkwardly.

When I look back at him, he’s gone.

Istay on the grassy lawn until the sky darkens and eventually opens up, utterly still. My body’s in shock. The rain smothers me, but I don’t move; I don’t find anywhere to go, and eventually, the rain subsides and whatever water is left hitting my face is dripping from the trees above.

A heavy mist settles in the air—one that matches my current dreary mood. This isn’t how I thought my dating life at Kinsmen University would go. He’s testing me, I realize. He’s seeing how far I’d go for him.

Anger seeps into every bone as I glare at the stick a few feet away from me, thinking about what I just did with it. Again… My pussy is still bleeding with shame.

I crawl over it and somehow muster enough strength to snap it in two and whip the pieces across the small meadow in which I lay. I pick up my soaking wet backpack, thankful my books are still dry inside.