The house was way too quiet, like something was up. Thick silence, like the walls were holding in a secret I hadn't spilled yet. I stood by the mirror, robe tied tight, with that post-shower steam sticking to my skin like I'd done something wrong.
My fingers played with the flame charm around my neck, the metal still warm, like it remembered way more than I wanted it to. I looked at myself hard. Cheeks all flushed. Lips puffy. Eyes holding back things even I didn't understand. And under it all, my heart still beating to the rhythm of that masked guy's whisper.
You don't come until I say.
I shivered, but it wasn't cold. It was the memory of heat I couldn't shake. Whoever he was, he didn't just touch me. He burned me. My thighs still buzzed, like he was still in the room, teasing me.
I flopped on the bed and grabbed my phone. One missed call from Daniel. No message. Nothing.
But the other name stuck in my head wasn't even in my contacts. Caleb.
I checked my photos. I almost tapped a picture I shouldn't have kept.
It was from my wedding. He stood behind Daniel, small smile, tie a little messed up, eyes down like he didn't want to see me promising myself to his brother. I didn't see the stress in his jaw then. I see it now. The way he held his hands behind his back, like holding back was all he could do.
I zoomed in on his face. Same jaw. Same cheekbones.
The same mouth that could've said, You didn't scream last time.
I swallowed, throat dry as anything. My other hand was under my robe, fingertips tracing over hot skin. I shouldn't. But my body wanted something I couldn't name. Or maybe I could, and I was just scared to say it.
I closed my eyes, letting the fantasy take over.
The masked guy.
Caleb.
Were they the same person?
A knock at the door broke my train of thought.
I jumped.
Another knock.
I stood, robe sticking to my skin, and walked to the door. Not the front door. My bedroom door.
I peeked through.
No one.
Just a small envelope on the floor.
I bent, picked it up, and opened it. Black paper inside, folded. No writing. Just a printout:
You left your scent on the chair. I tasted it. Next time, you beg.
I dropped the paper like it was on fire.
My breath hitched. I looked around the hall, but no one.
Who was in the room after me? Who was close enough to know what I left?
And how did they get in without anyone seeing?
I went back and locked the door.
My phone buzzed.
Blocked Number: Do you want me to stop?
Another buzz.
Blocked Number: Just say it. And I'm gone.
I looked at the screen, fingers shaking. But I didn't type. No yes. No no.
Because I didn't want him to stop.
Not yet.
Not when every bit of me felt like it was his.
I checked my photos again. Caleb's eyes looked back at me.
Could it be him?
Another text.
Blocked Number: Room 3. Midnight. I'll be watching.
My mouth went dry. I checked the time. 11:41 p.m.
My heart went hard.
This was crazy. I should delete, block, call Daniel. Run.
But I did nothing.
I went to the closet. Picked the red slip he called a sin in silk.
Put it on.
No panties.
No bra.
My body shook, not from fear, from wanting it.
The hall was dim. Shadows looked like grabbing hands. The flame charm got hotter as I got closer to Room 3.
I paused at the door. My fingers almost touched the handle. My breath went slow. My thighs were tight.
Then I heard it.
Breathing.
Soft.
Controlled.
Behind the door.
I pushed it open.
Dark.
No light this time. No lamp.
Just the smell.
Cedar. Smoke. Sin.
I went in. The door shut. But I didn't hear a click or any footsteps.
Just a voice.
You're late.
A whisper far away.
I turned.
Nothing.
Take off the slip.
I stopped.
Now.
My fingers reached for the straps.
I slid them down. Let it drop.
Cool on my skin. My thighs.
Turn around. Face the wall.
I did.
The scent was closer.
A hand brushed my hair.
Did you think of me?
I nodded.
Good girl.
Fingers skimmed my back. Down. Lower. Over my butt. Between my thighs.
I almost screamed, but he stopped. The absence was worse.
You still haven't earned it.
Then a blindfold went over my eyes.
Soft. Silk.
He whispered, Next time, you scream.
The scent was gone.
So was he.
When I took off the blindfold, the room was empty.
But on the chair was a photo.
The wedding picture.
Me. Daniel.
And in the back, Caleb.
But his eyes were scratched out this time.
The photo stayed in my hand too long. The edges worn, warm under my fingers, like a memory I couldn't let go. Daniel and I were perfect newlyweds. But I looked at Caleb.
Blurred in the back, staring right at me. Someone had scratched out his eyes. Not hard. Slow. Planned. Like setting a boundary that had been passed.
My breath shook. I put down the photo. The room was cold, but my skin burned.
Someone knew.
Not just Room 3—they knew about Caleb. My obsession. My thoughts. What I wanted most.
And they wanted me to know they knew.
The charm got hotter, bringing back the whisper from the chaise. Next time, you scream.
But I hadn't screamed yet.
I left the photo and went to the mirror. I needed to see myself. Not the mask I wore for Daniel. Not the sweet wife with lipstick. The real me.
The woman who let a stranger play with her. Who thought about her husband's brother when she touched herself. The one who couldn't tell dreams from danger—and didn't want to.
The mirror never lies.
I saw swollen lips. Big eyes. Red cheeks since the masked guy touched me. I ran my fingers down my shoulder, then lower between my thighs, where it never stopped.
Then I saw it.
On the glass.
A smudge.
A fingerprint.
Where my throat had been during my fantasy. But I hadn't touched it. Not with my hand. I got closer. It was big. Manly.
My knees went weak.
He'd been here.
In this room.
Not just Room 3.
He'd been watching me. Touching stuff. Leaving things.
My heart pounded. Who was he? How did he move without a sound? Without Daniel noticing? Without an open door left?
My breath stopped.
Unless… he had a key.
A noise behind me.
I turned.
The door was closed. No one.
But the scent—that smell—it was back. Musk. Cedar. Smoke.
Caleb.
No. Not Caleb. He hadn't been here since
the wedding. Right?
I put my hand on my belly. The wanting was getting stronger. My thighs shook. And the command still echoed:
You don't come until I say.
I whispered it. Like a curse. Like a spell.
Then the text.
Blocked Number: Touch yourself in front of the mirror. Let me see what's mine.
I gasped. I covered my mouth.
He was watching. Now.
The air was thick. My chest went fast. I should've screamed. I should've called Daniel. But instead—I did what I was told.
Slowly, I put my fingers between my thighs. I stood, looking at myself.
I watched myself break down.
I rubbed myself, hips rocking, the flame charm moving with each breath. I moaned.
The phone buzzed.
Blocked Number: Slower. Not yet.
My fingers shook. I needed it. I was there.
Blocked Number: Not yet, Sophia. I'll tell you when.
Tears welled up from holding it back. From the thrill. From the Knowing.
Who was he?
Why did he own my body more than I did?
The phone buzzed.
Blocked Number: Check under your pillow.
I felt breathless.
I went to bed, wet and throbbing. I put my hand under the pillow.
I felt something soft.
Black lace panties.
My black lace panties.
But I last wore them that night.
The night he touched me.
And on the lace was a note:
You left these. Next time, leave your heart.
My heart stopped. I opened the note with shaking hands.
It said:
Daniel isn't good enough for you. But I am.
The lights flickered.
The phone buzzed again.
Blocked Number: I told you. He's not the only one watching you.
As I turned to the mirror, the lights went out.
Darkness took over.
A noise behind me.
Not a knock.
A breath.
Hot.
A whisper at my ear:
You're mine now.