Page 19 of Hide From Me (Chaotic Love #3)

He laughs again, clearer this time, and leans closer. “We don’t make crisps, and it’s not electronics either. Good try, though. One day I’ll explain more. But for now, just let me look at you, yeah? I’m going fucking insane over here.”

“One more question,” I say softly.

Something in my tone changes the air. His eyes darken, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. It's cruel and manipulative of me, I know, but I need more, and luckily, this is the space I feel safest to get it.

With him, I can take and give the power any time I want. It heals something in me, something I didn't know I needed healing until that night on the hill when I felt everything he was feeling without saying a word.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew Laura?” And just like that it’s as if his trance is gone.

He scrubs a hand through his hair and lets out a sigh, leaning back against the wall again. “Must’ve slipped my mind… or something.”

“Or something?” I arch a brow, propping my phone up on the table so he can see me full-on. I tug at the hem of my oversized shirt, not-so-accidentally exposing more thigh .

His thumb drags across his lip, eyes roaming down my body.

“She’s a colleague. Nothing more, nothing less,” Moe mutters.

I keep playing with the edge of my shirt. “Was that so hard?”

“Watch it, sunshine, you’re playing a dangerous game.” He leans back, spreading his legs wider on the bed, sweatpants tenting with every shift of his hips.

“What are you gonna do about it?” I taunt, switching the TV to a rom-com to muffle the eerie soundtrack. I miss the title, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not watching it.

“I’ll hang up.”

I arch a brow. Bluff. If he hangs up, I’ll be pissed and he knows it.

“Do it.”

He doesn’t. Instead, he laughs under his breath, the tension in his jaw releasing. “Touche..”

I swallow a breath of relief, hiding it with a glance toward the staircase. I thought I heard something, but it’s probably just the old house creaking.

“Where are you right now?” Moe asks. His hand drops to his lap, fingers flexing around his cock through the soft fabric.

“Who said I wasn’t home?”

He gives me a look. “Last time we FaceTimed, your bed had neon lights behind it. The time before that was a leather couch and a pink blanket. So unless I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you in the wrong rooms… you’re not at your place.”

His palm drags over his erection with maddening pressure, and I curse how hot it is that he notices that kind of detail.

I glance down, pretending to fix my shirt. “Laura’s. Jack and her are upstairs.”

He doesn’t blink. “Don’t care if they’re awake. You’re going to take off those little shorts and show me what I’m missing.”

I raise a brow, lips twitching. “Take off your shirt first.”

“No, sunshine. Not tonight. I’ll show you anything else you want, though.”

“Why not?” I pause my motions, not hiding the disappointment on my face.

I've let this man see all of me in very obscure situations. I mean for fucks sake, I sent him a picture of my damn tits the other day and yet, I’ve never seen him fully undressed, not once.

There's no reason for him to be self conscious, judging by the strain in his shirts he's fit.

Maybe he has an embarrassing tattoo–oh god what if he has a tattoo of some woman's name?

“Because I’m done with the questions and you’ll only have more.”

Okay that's fair enough. Despite the thought, I poke out my bottom lip and bat my lashes which earn a low growl in response. It doesn't sound frustrated or agitated but amused.

“Such a little brat,” Moe laughs and he teases the waist of his sweats, barely sliding up the hem of his sweatshirt with the motion, giving me a small peak of what could lay beneath.

A nice patch of hair covers a thin strip between the deep cut v and as his abdomen tenses with a breath.

But when his fingers hook deeper into the sweats the shirt falls back.

“Pout at me like that in person and you might get what you want. Now are you going to listen or are you going to leave me with blue balls?”

“I don't pout.” I huff.

“Whatever you say, baby.”

It's nerve wracking to say the least, knowing I'm not in the safety of my own house where it’s private and I don’t have the chance of being caught.

Here at any moment, one of my friends can walk down those steps and catch me.

It feels taboo and oh so wrong to even debate on feeding into this delusion, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins straight to my core makes it almost impossible to refuse.

Standing, my face breaks from view of the camera only giving him the sight of my hips wriggling as I push my shorts to my ankles.

The air is too cold in the house making goosebumps prickle against my skin and a chill rolls down my spine.

I can't help but look to the staircase again as my fingers slip into the lining of my panties, but Moe’s voice pulls me back, making me hesitate.

“Leave your panties on,” Moe instructs. “Give me a little turn. ”

I raise my shirt, twist slowly, and when I face him again, his cock is already out—thick, flushed, and slick in his grip.

“I’m gonna tell you what to do, and how to do it. Yeah?”

I drop onto the couch again, nerves buzzing.

My heart is racing too fast with anxiety.

Every groan of the walls sounds like footsteps, and each tree limb brushing the roof sounds like whispers in the house.

I nod and he lets out a shaky breath as he releases his dick to raise his hand to his mouth and drag his tongue up the length.

“Feet on the table. Legs spread.”

I’m suddenly regretting not taking Jack up on the offer of taking the guest room this time instead. Then again, how was I supposed to know I’d be spreading myself out in front of a camera tonight?

“Someone could come downstairs,” I whisper.

“Let them see. Let them hear you. I don’t give a fuck.”

I swallow hard as my bare heels connect with the cold surface and I suck in a harsh breath as the air kicks on, sending a chill from under the table straight to my slicked underwear.

“Look at me.”

I snap my gaze back to his. He’s watching me with those eyes—hungry, commanding, possessive. Is scarring my friends for life really worth a little orgasm?

“There’s those pretty eyes. Now slip your hand in your underwear, but don’t do anything more.”

He watches every twitch of my thighs, every hesitation as I slide my hand into my panties, and my thighs tremble.

“I want you to show me how you get off when I’m not there.”

The tip of my finger dips between my folds, gliding through the slick heat before circling back up to my clit.

I whimper quietly. Just enough for him to see it in the tension of my body.

It’s not enough. I don’t know if it’s the fact that I have an audience, if I’m too nervous of being caught, or if it's because he's not here.

I swallow. “It’s not the same.”

“It can be,” he breathes, fisting his cock tighter. “Pretend it’s me. Just me. No distance, no time zones—just you and my hand between your legs.”

I start to circle it again, faster this time. My thighs shake, and I bite my lip to hold back a moan. It’s too much and not enough all at once.

“God, you’re listening so well,” he rasps. “Finger that tight little cunt. I want to hear how wet you are.”

God, I love it when he talks like this. When every syllable turns vulgar and sinful, as if it were meant for my ears only, it burns right through the guilt and worry, making me forget everything except him.

I push a finger in and gasp. My walls clench tight around it, and I picture his cock instead—thick and pulsing and deep inside me.

“Fuck, I can hear how wet you are from here,” Moe groans. “I swear, when I get back…”

He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t have to. I already know what he’ll do. I can feel it in the way my body rocks against my hand, chasing his ghost like a drug. My thighs tremble as I pump slowly, teasing myself just enough to fall apart without finishing.

“Push your panties to the side. Show me.”

I drag them aside and splay myself open. His eyes narrow. His strokes speed up.

“You can go deeper than that,” he growls.

I slide in farther, my fingers curling, hitting the spot only he ever found. My back arches, legs trembling again.

“Keep talking.” My vision nearly goes crossed as he fists his shaft tighter and jerks his wrist in a way that almost looks painful.

“Is that what you want? Is that what will get you off? Hearing how fucking desperate you make me?” God, I fucking love how his voice nearly turns to a whine at the end.

I love knowing that he's just as desperate as I am, if not more.

The way he talks in the heat of the moment almost makes it sound like he hates how I make his body react but the way his grip tightens around his cock as his hips buck into it says otherwise.

“Yes.” I gasp, slowing my finger fucking knowing that if I keep it up I’ll be coming in no time but I need to see him come first. I have to watch how his jaw tightens and his chest heaves when he's fighting it back. “Moe… I don’t—“

“Shhh. You’re okay. When you get close, push your palm to your clit and stick two fingers in.”

I shake my head. Close? Does he not realize I've been edging myself for the last five minutes? It's not enough–it won't be until I have him treating me like a slut, whispering all those filthy words in my ear again.

“You can do it for me, baby. It’s going to feel so good, I promise.” Moe grunts and the bed creaks with the shifting weight of his body. He leans forward, spreading his legs wider to grip his balls as he twists his wrist with an upward stroke on his cock.

The tv dims making my already blurred eyesight go nearly black. Everything is buzzing in the most overstimulating way that makes me want to stop. As if my body is protesting, my legs tremble and clamp around my hand.

“Come on, baby. Open those legs for me.”

“I can’t, it’s too much.” I gasp and pant and yet I can’t stop myself from adding a finger and pressing my palm to my swollen bundle of nerves.

“Don’t you dare come without letting me watch.” He growls and my head tilts back against the cushion, my legs spreading as wide as they can, creating the most obscene sight I’m sure I could create as I fuck myself with my fingers faster and harder. “Look at me.”

My head snaps at his command and a full body shudder runs over my shoulders.

“ Shit .” He huffs and his head tilts back against the wall as his pants turn into soft grunts.

Even through his tense form he lifts his hips, still subtly bucking and pulls something from his back pocket.

Even if I wanted to keep fighting back my orgasm I couldn’t.

It hits me like a damn freight train hard enough my feet raise from the table making my hips slip further at the edge of the couch as my fingers messily clip in and out of my cunt.

I watch him with a hooded gaze as he never once lets his eyes stray from how I pump myself through my orgasm.

“I told you it’d feel good, baby. Go on and clean up your mess.”

If I was in my right mind I’d tell him to piss off, but this is what he does to me–he makes my mind turn into mush and my body reacts in ways that shouldn’t be natural.

Lowering my feet back to the table I keep my legs open so he can see every pulse of my pussy as I bring my hand to my mouth, dragging my palm up my tongue until I’m hesitating at my fingers.

“Go on, suck them clean like its my fucking cock.”

I moan and my lashes flutter shut as I wrap my lips around the digits, loving the way he can be so fucking filthy and make me feel so normal for wanting to be disgusting with him.

“You’re still fucking dripping. Was it that good, sunshine?” Moes deep rasp has my eyes opening to catch sight of something so familiar, but it takes my mind a moment to process my underwear wrapping around his shaft.

I remove my fingers from my mouth and lean back against the cushions panting. “Not as good as you.”

With those words his chest puffs and the muscles in his neck flex as his jaw clenches. Each pump he makes into his hand has my underwear tightening around his cock turning the tip a deep shade of red.

“God damn it, Raylen, you’ve ruined me.” He growls and my chest swells with pride, a cocky smirk on my lips as his body tenses and his hips jerk. I don’t get the chance to see his tip spill each drop of come before he’s slipping my underwear over the tip with a bit back moan.

“It should be your pussy instead, but this’ll have to do.” He clears his throat from the hoarseness in his voice as if he wasn’t just impersonating some savage animal.

“So, how long are you going to hold my underwear captive?” I drawl. Gathering my shorts, I slip them over my overstimulated skin, wincing at the loud bang my foot creates when it connects with the leg of the table.

“You don’t want them back, they're ripped.” He laughs, picking up his phone. I can’t help but mimic the motions as I sprawl out on the couch; sated and numb.

“And dirty.” I hum, curling under the covers. He brings them to the screen as if examining them wrapped tightly around his knuckles.

“Are you telling jokes now, sunshine? I’m honored.”

“Don’t get cocky. It doesn’t mean anything besides the fact we’re friends.” I grumble, though I’m worried now it’s the furthest thing from the truth.

“You say that now.” Moe grins that blush lazy grin that has my eyes rolling as if it isn’t making me ready to go another round.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Get some rest, sunshine. I’ll talk to you when I can.”

Of course he’d avoid answering and of course it’s always ‘when he can’.

I wish I could bring myself to actually protest—to ask him to stay on the phone for just a bit longer so I don’t have to deal with the fear of being alone—but I can’t bring myself to say anything other than, “Goodnight monster.”