10. Laura

Chapter 10

Laura

T he mask appears in a shroud of blackness. I can't make out anything in the room behind him. There's only the mask, that familiar mask. My legs are weak as I sit down on the bed, and he's staring at me, his gray eyes just barely visible through the darkness. I don't know how, but I'm sure he's smiling.

"You should have just answered when I called."

I stifle a moan. It's been so long since I heard his voice. My body's betraying me big time here. "I didn't know it was you."

"I'll send you a new phone. You shouldn't break your toys."

My mouth opens and I look around. "How'd you know?"

"It went abruptly offline and I know you, little demon. You wouldn't just power it down. Don't worry, I'm not watching you. Not yet, anyway."

I stare at the screen and a cold sweat breaks out on my skin. "This computer is on the Bianco network. How are you connected to it?"

"Like how your phone was supposedly hackproof?" He laughs softly like that's the funniest joke in the world. "Your family is good at a lot of things, baby, but this is my world."

I try to formulate a rational response, but my head's a little mushy. "Why are you doing this right now? You couldn't wait, could you?"

Now it's his turn to look a little knocked off balance. His head tilts and he leans back for a moment. "No, I couldn't," he says, his voice harsh. "Why are you having another show?"

"I wanted you to see my new pieces."

"Who says I'll come?"

"You'll come." I'm not sure of much, but I'm sure about that. There's no way in hell Jackal would miss another chance at bossing me around on the roof.

He's quiet, studying me. I stare back and wish he were here in the room. I'd let his hands roam my body—let them push up my shirt, squeeze my nipples, tease my pussy?—

God, I've lived without this kind of need for so long, and now that it's back, I'm like a horny teenager or something. I have no discipline, no self-control, nothing at all but this stupid, brainless, animalistic ache between my legs.

And I hate it. But I also love it.

"If you want me to show up, you'll need to earn it." His voice takes on an edge and excitement blasts through my core.

"Another game?"

"An easy one." He stares at me, his eyes brooding behind the mask. "Undress for me."

I don't move. My body's on fire. My skin's tingling and I'm not sure I heard right. "You want me to take off my clothes?"

"Yes, little demon."

"That's a bad idea. How do I know you aren't recording?"

"You don't." There's a definite smile in the way he says it. "But you're supposed to trust me."

I take a deep breath to steady myself, but I'm having trouble thinking straight.

If Jackal wanted to hurt me, he could've done it twice already. If he wanted to blackmail me, he could've used my identity against me.

He hasn't done any of that.

But that doesn't mean he won't.

A shiver of excitement runs down my spine. I close my eyes, and this is how I know I'm broken: the danger, the risk, is exactly what I want.

I step away from the bed and leave the screen facing me. Slowly, I take off my shirt, tossing my dust-covered top down onto the floor. I'm in a sports bra, and I leave that on as I strip out of my heavy denim pants. I feel exposed and am shivering with anticipation as I stand in front of him wearing only a pair of black boy shorts and my sports bra.

"Keep going," he says and his voice is thick with desire.

"What happens next?"

"You'll find out. Trust, remember?"

"It seems like you're getting all the fun."

"No, little demon. This is still all about you." He leans closer to the camera. "Take off your clothes. I want you exposed. I want you vulnerable."

I close my eyes and pretend like there's a blindfold across my face.

Then I step out of my boy shorts and pull off my sports bra.

I don't bother covering myself. I feel him staring, even though I keep my eyes shut. I know what he's seeing: small breasts, hard nipples, flat stomach. I have a thick ass and strong thighs from sculpting all the damn time. My body's nice, I can't pretend like it isn't, but I've never shown myself to anyone before, and it's terrifying.

But it's also exciting.

"Good girl. God, look at you. Did you know that you're blushing? You're Laura Bianco, sitting astride the city, and you're blushing like you've never been touched before. But I've touched you. Do you remember?"

"I remember," I whisper, licking my lips.

"You are beautiful, little demon. You are a prize. You should be told that every single day, but only after you've earned it."

"Have I earned it this time?" I open my eyes. He's sitting back further from the camera, draped in the shadows. I can only see the outline of his black mask and the gold highlights.

"Almost, baby, almost. Let me see all of you. Turn, nice and slow."

I obey. Fuck it. At this point, I'm beyond caring. I let him see my back, my ass, the sides of my breasts. I let him see all of me. "Is this what you wanted?"

"Not yet. Get on the bed. Lie with your back to the pillows."

I hesitate, and I can tell he doesn't like that. He leans forward again, his gray eyes coming into view.

"Do what I'm asking, little demon, or I will end this call and you'll never see me again."

I whimper and curse but I give in. I adjust the computer so he's on my right side, down near my hips, the top half of my body visible.

"Spread your legs," he whispers. "Close your eyes. I want you to imagine something for me. Can you do that?"

I nod slowly. "I can do it."

"Good. We're standing together on a bridge. Down below, a river churns past, the water moving fast. It's the middle of the night and the full moon glitters off the water. It's warm and smells like the ocean. Do you see it?"

"I see it," I whisper and I can almost feel him standing behind me. I feel his mask brush the skin of my shoulders and his hands dig into my hips.

"Standing there on the bridge, you're only inches from a low railing, and you're absolutely sure that if I push, you will fall. And I promise, you will drown. The water's too fast, the bridge is too high, and it's too dark. You're mine, Laura, like always."

I breathe deep, smelling him, feeling him. "I understand."

"Good. I turn you around to face me. I push you back against the railing so the cold metal digs into your ass. You grip on the top, your back nearly out over the water, as I drop my fingers between your legs. Do you like that, baby? Does it feel good when I stroke your pussy?"

"Yes," I moan as my own hand mirrors his in the story. Now this is something I have experience with: I may not get touched by men, but I sure as hell touch myself all the time. A girl's got needs. "God, that's good."

"I tease you, Laura. I swirl my fingers around your clit before pressing them deep inside of you. I stroke them in and out and tell you how beautiful you are and how badly I want to shove you into that water."

"Oh, fuck," I gasp, back arching.

"You like that, don't you? You like when I wrap one hand around your thigh while the other finger-fucks you nice and deep. You're so fucking wet for me, aren't you, baby?"

"Soaking," I admit and it's true. I touch myself, mirroring his story, and it feels so fucking incredible.

"I want to watch you drown, baby. I want to squeeze your neck until you stop moving. And I want to fill your pussy until you scream. Does that scare you? Do you want me to stop?"

"Please don't," I gasp, because I am absolutely fucked up beyond belief, but I need him to keep talking. I'm so damn close. "More. Give me more."

"Your pussy's dripping down my palm as I slam my fingers deeper and I push you out a little bit, holding you by the throat, until you're inches from slipping off. One wrong move, one jerk of your hips, and you'll tumble from my grip, and you will die. The most fucked-up part is, neither of us can tell if that's what we want. I need you to come, I need it more than I've ever needed anything in my life, but I also want your last moments to be filled by my fingers and an orgasm. I need you on the edge, in pain, uncertain, and coming so hard your mind's broken and your pussy's a messy puddle. Come for me, baby, come so hard you're not sure what's pleasure and what's pain."

My back arches and my trigger pulls. I'm all his, all his, as his words wash over me, and I don't even know what he says after that as I have the second-best orgasm of my life. I'm gasping for breath, whimpering, and slowly pull my fingers out from my soaking pussy.

He groans and I can tell he loves this. I look at myself on the screen, and I'm flushed and a little sweaty.

"Lick them clean," he commands.

And I do it. I raise my fingers to my mouth and suck them. They're a little salty, but it's not bad. Excitement swells in my core again, even though I'm still coming down from my last orgasm.

"Good girl," he whispers. "Do you think you won the game tonight, Laura?"

"I don't know," I say honestly. "I did what you asked."

"Yes, baby, you did. And you won't know if I recorded it either. Tomorrow night, I want you to touch yourself, just like this, whether I'm on the screen or not, and I want you to think about how I could ruin you if that's what I wanted."

I bite my lip, not sure if I'm angry or turned on again. It's honestly both. "You're a twisted asshole, aren't you?"

He laughs, head tilted back, mask facing up. I watch his throat bob slightly as he nods. "Yes, baby, I am. That's why you can't get enough. See you soon, little demon."

Then he's gone. The screen goes black. I stare at it and slam the spacebar, but nothing happens.

I lean into the pillows and sigh. My body feels like jelly. My head is a conflicted mess of anger and worry.

And the sickest part is I'm going to have such a great freaking orgasm tomorrow.