29. Lena

29

LENA

I wake up feeling rested, the nightmare of my fiancé, David, fading from memory. But as I stretch, something feels off. I look down and see a crusty white substance on my chest. My heart lurches as the realization hits.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, my eyes widening. Dried cum. How did I not wake up? I look over at the other side of the bed, but David’s not there. I check the time. Almost seven a.m. I sit up, anger and disgust swirling in my stomach.

How could he?

I get up, the sheet pooling around my waist, and spot something on the desk. Cautiously, I walk over, my eyes narrowing at the sight before me. There’s a note, and next to it, an instant photo. My breath catches as I see a large, erect cock, the edges of my desk visible in the background.

I pick up the note, my hands shaking.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. Look what you do to me.”

My eyes dart back to the photo, and I realize with a sickening lurch that it’s not David in the picture. This guy’s cock is thicker and much longer. Slowly, the implications sink in.

Someone broke into my home and masturbated over me while I slept. I back away, my heart pounding. Who would do this? How did they get in? Questions swirl in my mind, but one nameless, faceless man permeates my thoughts.

The masked man.

A chill runs down my spine as I reflect on the mysterious stranger at the club. His protective demeanor. The way he pulled me close, grinding against me.And why the fuck does it make my pussy wet?

I can’t tear my eyes away from the photo. My cheeks flame with embarrassment, even as my body betrays me. I squeeze my thighs together, my breath quickening. God, this is so wrong.

The stranger’s cock is thick and veined. I swallow hard, biting my lip as my eyes flick back to the note. You’re so fucking beautiful.

My phone buzzes, interrupting my disturbed thoughts. It’s David. Staying at Pete’s this weekend. Won’t be back til Sunday night.

Relief floods me. At least I don’t have to deal with him until tomorrow night. I set the phone down, my gaze returning to the photo. Part of me wants to throw it away, disgusted and appalled by this violation of my privacy. But another part...

I lie back on the bed, reaching into the nightstand for my vibrator. My heart is pounding as I turn it on, closing my eyes as the familiar buzz fills the room. It’s wrong, so wrong, but I can’t stop thinking about that cock.

The vibrating toy reaches my clit, and my hips buck slightly as I press it against myself. I’m already wet, and the sensation sends a shiver through me. With my free hand, I pick up the photo, staring at it as I slowly circle my clit.

In my mind, I imagine it’s not the vibrator touching me but him. His thick cock, sliding between my thighs. Pushing inside me. Claiming me. My breath hitches as I let out a soft moan, my hips moving involuntarily. The vibrator slips inside me, and I arch my back, biting my lip to stifle another moan.

I’m so wet, so ready, and my mind is filled with images of him. The stranger. His strong arms pull me close, grinding against me to that primal beat. And in my fantasy, the man behind the mask is Talon. The only man I’ve ever wanted.

My fingers tighten around the vibrator as I move it in and out, faster now. My breathing becomes ragged as I picture the stranger above me, his cock thrusting into me.

I’m so close, my body trembling with desire. I glance at the photo again, my eyes locking with the stranger’s anonymous gaze. And then I come with a sharp cry, my body convulsing with pleasure.

As I lie there, panting, I realize with a jolt that this whole time, my eyes were fixed on that photo, on him. Oh God, what is happening to me?

I lay in bed, my body still tingling from my release. The shame crashes over me as reality sets in. What kind of person gets off to evidence left by a stalker? But I can’t deny the truth—it’s the first time I’ve felt desire since Talon.

My hand traces over my collarbone where David left bruises last night. Since starting college, I’ve staved off his advances. But last night, it was like reliving being back in Mr. Wilson’s clutches after Talon left. It feels like I’m broken now.

With Talon...sex had been different. Raw. Passionate. Caring. He’d awakened something in me I didn’t know existed. The way his hands had explored my body, how he’d claimed me completely. Even now, the memory sends shivers down my spine.

David’s touch last night was nothing like that. It was mechanical, painful, degrading. He didn’t care about my pleasure or comfort. To him, I was just a toy to be used. And now it’s happened once. It’s bound to happen again. The thought makes bile rise in my throat.

I curl onto my side, wrapping my arms around myself. How did I end up here? Trapped in this nightmare with David, getting aroused by a stalker’s photo while remembering the only man who ever made me feel truly alive? A man who should have been off limits, considering we grew up together.

The worst part is knowing that what happened with Talon wasn’t just sex—it was a connection, an understanding that went soul-deep. Everything since then has felt hollow, especially David’s violations now, that leave me feeling dirty and used.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the memories of David’s assaults. But they creep in anyway, making my skin crawl all over again.

I hurry to clean up, putting my vibrator away and wiping down my body. I feel ashamed, confused, and incredibly turned on all at once. I glance at the photo again before hiding it in my drawer and the note.

What have I become?