The Unsettled Series

HER

He wasn’t lying about waking me up with a mind-shattering orgasm. Before I even open my eyes, that little device is plunging so deep into me that I see stars.

I take several cold showers to reset my mind before getting dressed—not in front of the window for once. I don’t have time. I ignore several messages from him as I rush out the door; I can’t ruin my girls’ day out at the mall.

We’ve been planning this for several weeks, trying to find a day that works for everyone to try the new restaurant and boutique.

By noon, I still haven’t looked at my phone, heading out of the boutique with my friends and determinedly focusing on Sara’s story about her latest misadventure getting hit on at the gym.

The mall is, as usual, more chaotic around the lunch rush. Stores lined up on either side of the aisle are filled with happy shoppers, especially since it’s winter and everybody wants an excuse to stay indoors.

I know he’s going to be pissed that I’m ignoring him. But I know that as soon as I look at my phone, I won’t be able to think about anything else. And I can’t very well tell my friends about my love life; they wouldn’t understand.

They would assume I’m caught up in something unhealthy and illegal, and worry about me. Maybe they’d be right. This isn’t even the first time I’ve had a stalker. It’s just the first time I’ve enjoyed it.

My ex was crazy on all fronts—something that drew me to him—but where my neighbor is sensual and sweet, my ex was abusive. Most of my friends don’t know about that, either; they just know it was a bad breakup.

“Girl, seriously? Where do you keep running off to in your head? OMG! Is it a new boyfriend? Pics!”

They’re all giggling, in a great mood as we make our way to the restaurant. They’ve each picked out several outfits, spending hundreds of dollars that I don’t have.

“Just…hanging out right now. Nothing serious,” I say, though my face warms at the memory of what happened last night and the way he speaks to me.

I’m sure he’s watching me right now. He always is. He’s probably going to be furious after hearing me deny our relationship.

My friends explode into more giggles, making fun of my blush, joking that I’m going to be bringing a husband to our next gathering. I doubt it. He doesn’t seem like husband material, and I don’t plan on settling down anytime soon.

“We’re just having fun,” I offer. More laughter as we enter the restaurant and the hostess leads us to our reserved table.

As we all sit down and peer at our menus, the conversation soon moves on, and I’m left to my own thoughts. I can feel his stare lingering on the back of my neck, though I’m not sure exactly where he’s hiding.

My phone buzzes again. This time, I relent and pull it out of my pocket, only to see twenty-seven missed texts and fifteen missed calls.

Oh, so he’s mad mad. Fuck.

The last text is only two words. Bathroom. Now.

I didn’t want to interrupt girls’ day, but it doesn’t even occur to me to disobey once I see those words. I excuse myself politely and began walking toward the restaurant bathroom, pausing when my phone pings again. Outside.

Oh. Of course. The restaurant bathroom is too conspicuous.

I step outside of the restaurant and make a beeline down the corridor to the mall bathrooms. As I’m heading toward the women’s, a rough hand snags my wrist and drags me into the family restroom.

Before I really understand what’s happening I’m thrust against the sink, and a silk tie wraps around my eyes. My breath hitches as the familiar presence of my neighbor settles behind me, his teeth scraping against my exposed neck.

“Just hanging out? Doll, I thought we had something.”

“We—we do,” I stutter.

When he has me in a position like this, I can’t think. The heat of his body pressed against mine is everything.

I lean my head back against his shoulder, wanting more contact, but he isn’t ready to give it. “Just having fun? Is that all yesterday was? Just fun?”

That large hand wraps around my neck, the other one dipping beneath my skirt and fingering the thong I put on this morning. I shake my head. I wish I could see his face, figure out what expression matches that silky voice.

“But see, that’s what you told your friends. You told them that I don’t mean anything.”

“I didn’t say that. I said—”

“I heard what you said, doll. I was there. Those words hurt a little.”

My breath hitches in my throat as I try to reconcile what this man is going to do to me. We have a system. He likes to “punish” me and then reward me.

I’m usually all for it, but in a public bathroom, when I’m supposed to be at lunch with my friends? We don’t have a lot of time.

His hand strokes my neck as his lips move to my ear, sucking on the bottom lobe. The sweet sensation of it has me pressing back against him.

I can hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks again, right up against my ear. “As punishment for your words, I will give you something you’ll need to hide from your friends. How’s that, doll?”

I try to keep my expression neutral, but I’m sure he can tell I’m wet between the thighs at the idea of it.

The sound of his zipper echoes through the bathroom. All too soon and not soon enough, I feel the bulbous head of his cock pushing into my pussy. He widens my stance, his hands squeezing a little tighter around my throat.

It’s at moments like these that I remember I’m in the hands of a man I don’t know and have never seen. He can hurt me, and no one will know what happened.

And then he says shit like, “I’m gonna fuck you real good, doll,” and I give in to him. Wholly. Completely.

He feels wonderful inside me, thick and wide, dragging along my pussy walls with each sensual thrust. His hand moves from my neck to my mouth, pressing hard against my lips to keep me from screaming out loud.

Normally, he’s told me, he loves the sounds I make. I’m loud. But this moment isn’t about that.

It’s about control.

I dismissed our taboo relationship when I was talking to my friends, and he’s here to make sure that I remember it. That it will be all I can think of when I return to that booth and sit down with shaky legs.

He’s holding onto my waist as he pumps into me. One of my hands snakes around the back of his neck to pull him closer, and he takes that as an invitation to stuff his face into the crevice of my neck.

His powerful thrusts keep pushing me farther into the sink until I’m pretty sure the wall is shaking. I cry out, the sound muffled by his hand as his teeth graze my neck again, silently asking to add pain to the scene.

I almost tell him yes until I remember where we are—in a mall bathroom, with my friends waiting for me just a short ways away. Going back there and explaining the new bite on my neck would be tough.

He grunts through a few more thrusts before exploding inside of me, and I tumble into orgasm right after him. A pleasurable haze of ecstasy washes over me as I fall forward.

He chuckles at how wrecked he’s left me, pulling out and no doubt watching his release spill down my thighs below my hiked-up skirt.

He always does this: fucks me with my clothes on, like he’s so hungry for me that he doesn’t have time to let either of us strip. I know that that can’t possibly be his reasoning; it’s probably just a kink of his, semi-clothed sex. But I like to pretend.

He cleans me up and leans down to press a simple kiss to my cheek. Then he starts messing with my hair and straightening my clothes. If nothing else, he is a gentleman.

“Doll, it’s not perfect but it’ll have to do.”

I have no idea what he thinks is perfect, but I hope his control over this thing between us bleeds over into whatever he did to fix me back up. I’m still blindfolded, so I have to trust that I don’t look ~too ~freshly fucked.

He leads me out of the bathroom, stealing a kiss and then releasing his tie. As soon as I can, I open my eyes and spin around to look for him. He’s already gone, though. I can’t tell which male walking through the mall might be him.

It’s like he’s disappeared. I really hope that fucker isn’t all in my head—but who knows at this point? I haven’t told anyone about him, and no one in my neighborhood has seen him leave that house.

But the silk tie, now untied and draped loosely over my neck, speaks a different story.

And the pleasurable ache between my legs, as I slip back into the booth, tells me just how real he is…