Page 25 of Lock

Curling my hand into a fist, I starfish my body and stretch. Then I roll onto my back and let out a loud groan.

My muscles pull tight before my limbs drop back to the mattress. I feel achy and sated.

My eyes pop open.

Achy, sated, and sore.

Shoving my hand beneath the sheet, I dip my fingers under the band of my pajamas and between my legs.

Wetness greets me.

He was here!

Pulling my hand out, I curse. “Shit!” We didn’t use a condom. No way Doc will give me Plan B again. Groaning, I roll my eyes. I didn’t think I needed to have them yet, not until next Halloween.

I took Plan B yesterday, so it’ll be okay, right?

Craning my neck, I peer over at the bedside clock. 9:30. How long ago did he leave?

Sitting up quickly, I snatch my cell off the table and scrabble across the bed. Darting from room to room, I search for him, but no one’s here. I knew he wouldn’t be, but a girl can hope.

I can feel the ache of him deep inside as I walk to the front door on steady feet, no dizziness in sight.

Locked, just like I left it.

How the fuck does he get in?I shrug the thought off quickly, because the truth is, I don’t care.

He came for me, again.

Is this the end of our yearly visits? Will he come again tonight? God, I hope so.

My pulse pounds, and my inner muscles squeeze in anticipation, making me hiss. I’ve been sore before, but not like this.

I know what we do is rough, or at least I think so. Once a year, I wake up bone tired with an equal amount of contentment.

But with no time between his visits, my body isn’t used to it. I’ve never felt better.

Turning the lock, I yank the front door open. Messy hair and in pajamas, I look like a crazy lady. I know I do, but that doesn’t stop me from stepping out.

Left and right, I look up and down the quiet street, but no one is in sight. My shoulders drop. I know I shouldn’t be disappointed, but I am.

Who is he?

Suddenly very aware of the wetness between my legs, I squirm. I have a man’s semen leaking out of me, and I don’t even know his name. Shame burns my face.

Maybe I should text Sam. My best friend won’t judge me, right?

Remembering the call she had with Kaleb, I form a plan.

Wiping my thumb across the screen of my cell, I send her a text.

You, me, and a bottle of wine, mine tonight.

Her reply comes before I can take more than three steps back toward the house.

Make it two.

Smiling, I agree.