Free I Know What You Read by Keara Kevay Page A

“don’t do this, please.”
    “Okay,” he said again, back into a sub-low range.
    “You—you won’t force me to have sex?” she asked with a shaky voice.
    “No.”
    “Then why are you doing this to me?  Do I know you?”
    No reply.
    She felt his hand come to rest against her ribcage as if he was preparing to draw her toward himself; his thumb gently brushing back and forth against the side of her breast.  “Please stop!  I said, no.  I don’t want to have sex with you.”
    “Touch?”
    She swallowed, “No.  If you start feeling me up, you won’t stop.”
    “Look?” he continued.
    She could feel his hands poised to unbutton her top.
    “NO!” she snapped.
    Once again everything became quiet and utterly still.  Her refusal appeared to have him baffled.  She listened as he moved away.  She heard soft footfalls leaving her bedroom.  She was scared to think of being left this way.  How long would it be before someone came out to her house to check on her?  That was when she heard the sound of him in her kitchen.  He was opening cabinets and drawers, and even the refrigerator.  The next sound she heard caused her heart to faint in her chest.  She didn’t know that a knife being removed from the butcher block could make a distinguishable noise, but she knew without a doubt he grabbed a knife.
    She wanted to scream, but all she could imagine was having her throat slit when he reached her.  She heard the footfalls again.  Whoever this was, he was light on his feet.  She quickly eliminated Hiram.  He had a shuffling gait she would recognize anywhere; this man seemed to be youthful, nimble, and quick.  The tiny amount of wrist she had been able to see appeared muscular, not fat.  The wrist had also been white, which eliminated Dontrell and Carlos.
    “Taste,” came the voice.
    She smelled the strawberry, mingled with another scent before it reached her lips.  Before she could say, “No,” the piece of fruit with something smooth and sweet touched her mouth.  She hesitated, but then bit into the offered morsel.  It was chocolate syrup on the berry.  Next was a maraschino cherry dipped in Cool Whip, and then a green seedless grape with honey on it.
    “Please tell me who you are?” she requested again.
    “Touch?”
    “No, I told you, you’ll—”
    His hand began to gently massage her forearm.  “Touch?” he repeated.
    “Nothing sexual?”
    “No.”
    “Why are you doing this?” she asked as the massage continued, now with both of his hands.  She couldn’t deny that it felt wonderful.
    “I—know—what—you—read.”
    She still couldn’t get him to speak loud enough for her to figure out who he was, but one thing was certain, she was starting to get into the caress of this stranger.  He would pause the massage long enough to put other small morsels of food in her mouth, but he was now alternating sweet items with things like sharp cheddar cheese, some of the roast beef lunchmeat from her crisper with mild horseradish sauce.  Since he used items from her refrigerator and cupboards, she felt comfortable enough to keep accepting the tidbits.  He moved to the end of the bed and the massage continued with her lower thighs, calves, and feet.
    When his hands moved to her abs, his thumbs dipped dangerously low toward her bikini line.
    “Touch?” he whispered so soft she almost didn’t hear him.
    This time she hesitated.  “Take off my blindfold,” she requested.
    “No. Touch?”
    “No,” she stubbornly refused, even though she was so moist and ready to let him touch her there .  That was when she detected a quiet buzzing and felt a small vibrator against her thigh.  She inhaled; only this time she was hoping he wouldn’t ask permission.
    “Touch?”
    “I—I don’t know you,” she tearfully replied.  It wasn’t a ‘no’ but it wasn’t a yes either.
    The buzzing stopped and the vibrator was taken away from her skin. 
    “Goodbye.”
    “Wait!  You can’t