Page 10 of Unmasking Her Shadow

Nothing.

“Sam,” I bark.

Still nothing.

Gosh damn it. Smelling salts it is.

I’m sorry, baby.

9

Sam

Arms wrap around me, catching me from slamming onto the worn hardwood floor when I am forcefully yanked from orgasm coma.

“What the hell?” I shriek, rubbing my nose as if it would help relieve the sting.

“Time to wake up, sunshine,” Shadow orders, tossing something onto the stand next to the bed as if giving me a heart attack was no big deal. Why would it be? It’s not like he cares about me. I was a job. Disgust worms its way into my mind. I paid for sex. The reality of my decision is finally crashing down on me, but I have no time to wallow in self-pity. My hands are pulled from my face, and glowing blue eyes stare down at me. I can still feel him all over me. My hellcat is sore and pulsing from the relentless orgasms. That’s what she’s called now. Hellcat. The fucking demon between my legs came straight from hell. There’s no other way to describe it because, as disgusted as I am with myself, I want more.

“Give me a color,” he demands.

“It doesn’t matter what I feel. Our time is over,” I mumble.

The laugh that escapes the mask vibrates straight to my core. The grip on my wrists tightens, and I am pulled up from the mattress, spun around so fast my head spins, and then my face and chest are buried into the sheets. Confusion over the soft material of my pants sliding down my legs is quickly replaced with a yelp.

Smack.

“I said give me a fucking color.”

No words are able to form. My thoughts are all on separate tracks, wrecking into each other and on fire.

Smack.

“Green!”

Teeth graze my ass cheek and my hips grind into the edge of the mattress. I blink away the tears. When I’m home in my own bed, I’ll dissect my issues then. Right now, I am still in this game, apparently. My phone and bank account need be taken away from me because I would willingly give everything I have to experience this every day. And that’s a fucking problem. This is an addiction I cannot feed. I will not be the girl who pays strangers to fuck her. I can’t. A single tear breaks through my barrier. He releases my wrists and pulls the fuzzy pants back up my legs, and I swear these came from my dresser, but that’s impossible.

“Time to go home.”

I groan. The last thing I want to do right now is walk all the way back to my car. Wherever that may be. I severely lack survival skills. The dread is short-lived when I step outside of the small cabin and see my car parked right out front. How long was I asleep?

“Umm…thanks for…” I stutter, embarrassment creeping up my neck and to my cheeks.

“Thanks for making you come…over and over again until your body couldn’t take anymore and you passed out from orgasm exhaustion?” Shadow jokes.

I clear my throat. “Yeah. For that,” I agree and clamber into the driver’s seat of my car while Shadow watches every movement. It’s dark, but the moon highlights the figure in my rearview mirror as I drive away from the best and worst decision I’ve ever made. When I reach the end of the long makeshift driveway, I pull up my home address on my phone to know which way to go. I drive in silence, but my thoughts are loud enough to fill the void. You know those times when you pile your plate high with the biggest slice of cake possible, eat the entire thing because it’s too damn good to stop, and afterwards you regret ever taking a bite because you are bloated and sick to your stomach? That is the way I’m feeling right now.

Exhaustion seeps into my bones as I slowly make my way into my house. My hands trembled as I fumbled with the key. It’s late. I’m tired and sore, and my mind is spinning. The night was exactly what I wanted, so why do I feel so awful about myself? Would it have made it better if I had woken to his arms wrapped around me in comfort and not to stop me from smashing onto the floor to kick me out? Probably.

“Shit,” I mumble to myself when I get a look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror after removing the pajamas that somehow got on my body and that look a hell of a lot like ones I own. I run my fingers over the marks the ropes left on my skin, feeling the slight indentation. “Stop it,” I whine to my demon pussy that is telling me none of this was a terrible idea and that I need to do it again ASAP. I’m a mess, and I’m not just talking about my appearance.

A couple leaves and tiny sticks fall out of my hair in the shower, and I hiss when the sudsy cloth grazes my overused clit. At least I got my money’s worth. My head drops again and shoulders sag. This is not okay, no matter how you look at it. I lazily dry off, slip into another pair of pajamas, and curl into a ball under my comforter.

* * *

My body aches as if I were kicked by a giant and rolled down a mountainside when I roll out of bed. No amount of yoga would ever have prepared me for last night’s adventure. While there’s still a slimy layer of disgust I can’t seem to brush off, I can’t lie to myself and say I completely regret it. It was amazing. And that’s the problem. It was amazing because I paid for it to be amazing. If I met that person today, I’d have no idea who he was, but he would know me. Shadow knows what I look like and the sinful things I enjoy. I’m a sexually frustrated idiot for not thinking any of this through. Men get blamed for thinking with their cocks. Well, my pussy was clearly the one making all the decisions last night.

I fill my mug with coffee, toss on my pink robe with large white daisies on it, and shove my feet into a pair of rainbow slipper socks. The moment I step outside and get a whiff of fresh air and see the beautiful glow of the sun peeking over the trees, signaling a brand new day, I feel a tad lighter. I roll my shoulders, careful not to let my coffee splash over the side of my mug, and wince. The scrape from the arrow burns. I still can’t believe I got shot with a real arrow. And I can’t tell a soul about it. If I did, they would shove me into a mental health facility.