Tease Me (Private Listing #4)

When he leads me into the living room where the others have a laptop set up, Coop holds out his hand. I take it, letting him draw me down onto his lap. He wraps me in his warmth and I snuggle against him to keep the chills at bay.

I’m not ready to get a sneak peek into my stalker’s head, but I don’t have a choice. Being ignorant isn’t an option. Hiding away hasn’t helped. He’s found me. He’ll find me again and I don’t want to be caught unaware.

“I’m ready,” I announce to the room even though no one asked.

“Do you want to know what to expect?” Blake asks like I’m some broken fragile thing that will fall apart.

These four men have made me stronger. As long as I have their love, I can survive anything. When I meet Blake’s green eyes, he straightens like he sees the strength inside me. There’s a proud glint in his eyes.

“No, just play it.”

Music fills the room. The screen is black. The song sounds familiar. Where have I heard it before? There’s the sound of rain and the screen brightens. My heart skips as I realize that’s not rain.

It’s the longer version of someone creeping up on me in the shower. The door opens and I’m there, pressed against the wall, chasing after an orgasm after meeting the loves of my life.

Noah takes my hand and I squeeze his. This isn’t traumatizing like it was when I first saw it. I already knew this existed. This invasion to my privacy. The picture zooms in. First, on my parted lips. My hand on my breast. My stomach. My other hand thrusting between my legs.

It zooms out and the person backs away, panning across the mirror before shutting the door quietly. There’s a flash of black as it crosses the mirror. I freeze. Fuck, that wasn’t Valerie.

“It’s not the same video, tiger. I checked.” Blake’s tone is light, but I can feel his anger bristling under it.

Fuck. I mean, I didn’t make a habit of masturbating in the shower, but it seemed like a safe place to do it. I shake my head.

“What about the person in the mirror? It wasn’t Valerie. Can we get anything from that?” I turn when the screen goes black and the music stops.

A voice sends chills through my bones.

“Oh, little one.” His voice is strained but also modified, like there are too many tones to identify what his real voice sounds like. There’s this repetitive sound I can’t identify. “It’s a shame about your dress. The only cum on it should be mine and yours.”

The camera turns on and a mannequin is stretched out on a twin bed. Its hands are cuffed to the iron headboard. A torn dress covers its body. My lips tremble when I register it’s the dress he sent back to me. My floral sundress.

The camera shakes as he moves closer and sits next to the mannequin. The camera follows his leather-gloved hand as he traces its lips before sliding down its neck. He pushes the fabric off the rounded breast of the mannequin.

“So many questions, little one. Are these sensitive? Do you like it when your nipples are pulled and pinched? Can you come from having your breasts played with?” He hums as that repetitive thwapping sound continues.

He runs his hand down the mannequin’s stomach before sliding his gloved fingers between its legs. He strokes there in time with the thwapping.

“How about here, little one?” His voice is even more strained. “Do they even know how to please you? Or do they fumble around, forgetting about your pretty little clit, too busy thrusting their cocks into your tight cunt?”

My eyes narrow as realization of what that sound is hits. Recoiling, I cover my mouth with my hand. “Is he masturbating?”

“Sure sounds like it, sweetheart.” Coop draws me in tight against him. “Do we really need to watch this?”

“Just wait.” Blake’s hands are clenched.

“I’m sure they’ve taken you everywhere, little one. Your pretty mouth, your tight cunt, your supple ass. I don’t mind. You see, they’re just warming you up for me. They may have you now, but you and I are end game.”

Groaning in that weird multitonal way, he comes on the belly of the mannequin. Before his cum can slide onto the dress, he wipes it with a pair of panties. He must have one of those cameras that you can wear while doing an activity because he’s definitely using both of his hands.

“These I’ll keep until I have you in the flesh, little one.”

He holds up the white panties I wore that night. The ones Noah cut off me.

“They smell like your arousal and now they smell like us. You should smell how good we are together.”

The video clicks off. I lurch from Coop’s hold as bile burns my throat. I rush to the sink at the bar and throw up. It keeps coming up as the images replay in my head. The piece of the song from the beginning plays through my head like an earworm.

It’s familiar but not. Like I should know it. I dry heave a few more times before I realize arms hold me firmly.