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He didn’t even flinch.
It was then I moved to the window, pulling one curtain with a sharp tug to the middle of the window.
Then I felt it. That familiar tingle that had been plaguing me for weeks.
I scanned the woods outside, my heart quickening when I spotted him.
He stepped forward slowly, confidently, until he was only a few paces away on the other side of the glass. My mouth dried as I drank him in. He was well built, toned from what I could see below his tight fitting black clothing. The mask concealed his entire face, not even his eyes were visible, like one of those green suits people wore on sets of movies. Except black, and with a distorted image of a skull-like ghost printed on it.
He tilted his head as I watched him. Was he waiting for me to scream and panic? To call the police?
Then he was right in front of me, my body feeling weak under his gaze. I may not have been able to see his eyes, but I could feel them raking over me.
He saw me.
In a moment of madness, I reached forward and turned the key on the window lock, my breath hitching as I turned the handle and pushed the window open.
He didn’t immediately enter.
We stared at one another as minutes passed, my whole body tense as I considered reaching over and slamming the window closed. What did I think would happen? Nothing good could come of inviting your stalker into your home.
And then his hands were on the sill, one boot landing in my room, then the other. Then he was in my room, the tension wrapping around me as realisation hit.
I ran, eyes wide, as I made for the door.
He was quicker.
His arms wrapped around me from behind as he pulled me flush to his chest, one hand clamping over my mouth.
I tried to scream, the muffled noise not even slightly rousing my sleeping boyfriend.
I fought against him, kicking and biting and scratching, his gloved fingers holding me firm.
‘Sweet Katie,’ the rough, low Glaswegian accent said in my ear, ‘Don’t fight it. I’m not going to hurt you. Not like he did.’
I stilled in his arms. He’d seen Tommy fucking me.
My cheeks reddened in shame.
‘I’m here to make you feel good. To show you what you're missing by wasting your time on him. To show you there is so much more.’
He let his gloved fingers drop from my mouth to my throat as he gripped it lightly but firmly, tipping my head back against his shoulder.
‘You want that, don’t you? To feel.’
I nodded against him, his fingers on my throat sending mixed messages to my brain. He could strangle me. Kill me. But his grip there sent flutters between my thighs that I was finding difficult to ignore.
‘Tell me.’
‘I want to feel.’
‘How long has it been since you had a mouth on your cunt?’
I trembled.
‘Years.’
‘Too long, sweetness. Someone needs to worship you properly and that asshole won’t do it. His ego only has room for one person’s pleasure and it’s not yours.’
