Intrusion

One of his hands slid from her hip, reaching down between her thighs to brush against her sex. One leather-clad finger slowly circled her clit, making her whimper and twitch against him. Another shower of sparks spilled into her belly, her blood boiling under her skin. Damn him, no matter how hard she tried to block him out and numb herself to the situation, he was determined to make her enjoy it.

He picked up his pace just a little, drawing a soft moan from her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her stomach tightening of its own accord. With him pressing against that terribly sensitive spot and teasing her clit, her climax was building faster than usual. From how he'd teased her breasts to how he angled her hips, her captor seemed like much more than just an experienced burglar; he was highly educated with a woman's body, knowing exactly how to push and pull nerves to get what he wanted. In the entire scheme of things, he was basically the perfect man: smart, well prepared, patient, experienced, and knowledgeable of how a woman's body worked. Had he chosen a different profession, the man could be a millionaire within a few months.

He kept his pace steady, taking his time to tease and torment her with every stroke of his cock and swirl of his fingers. She bit her lip as a bolt of lightening raced up her spine, her cheeks flushed from the effort. Another well-timed press of his finger made her squeal and buck against his hand, seeking more attention. Her body had dissolved into pure, animalistic craving, wanting nothing more than the pleasure he was offering. She pressed her ass against his hips, trying to drive him deeper, to press her body harder against him. She needed to climax, not caring how it came or who it came from.

Torturous as his methods were, he was kind enough to give her what she wanted. He pulled back, nearly drawing his entire length out of her, then shoved his cock back in, this time with much more force and speed. He stopped circling her clit with his finger and pressed down hard onto the sensitive nub, exploiting the crack in the dam. She stiffened, her back arching and her toes curling in as her climax roared through her, a wave of liquid fire exploding under her skin. Her insides tightened around him, holding his cock in place as she erupted. She buried her face in her pillow and closed her eyes, bracing herself against her body's implosion.

The wave of pleasure rolled over every inch of her skin before slowly dissipating into nothingness. Panting, Miranda went limp, sinking into the plush piles of blankets as her body came down from its high. She could still feel him behind her, bucking against her a few more times before his own climax hit. She heard his muffled groan, felt his fingers digging into to her hip as he drove into her as deep as he could. She felt his cock twitching inside of her, gently rubbing against her in a final attempt at finding pleasure. She heard him panting, felt his hand pressing against her back to brace himself, now exhausted from his own efforts.

Seconds later he pulled away from her, his cock slipping from her warmed pussy. She whimpered softly, her body feeling suddenly empty and unloved. He lowered her hips to the bed, letting her melt into the bedding. She closed her eyes, her body aching. She felt the bed dip slightly as he dismounted, heard his heavy footsteps as he made his way towards the top of her bed. His warm fingers gently gripped her wrists, holding them still as he unwound his leather belt from her bed and hands. He released her wrists and began dressing himself, letting her pull her arms in over her chest.

Free from her captor's restraints, Miranda drew her knees to her chest, curling into herself to avoid any further harm. Her brow knitted slightly, frustration, disgust and confusion swirling in her head. She'd come home after a shitty day at work to be threatened, teased and fucked by a silent, masked stranger who'd broken into her home. This is what most people would categorize as a fucked-up day. She felt warm fingers caressing her shoulders and back, and she instinctively stiffened against his touch.

Oh no. Now what?

Instead of drawing her towards him, those fingers gently rolled her towards one side of her bed. Miranda relaxed a bit, relieved to free of his touch for a moment. She heard the soft rustling of blankets, felt the tiny brush of soft cotton against her back. Her captor moved again, his heavy footsteps walking from one side of the bed to the other. She felt his warm hands again, this time sliding under her body, bracing her knees and shoulders and lifting her upwards. He pulled her against his frame, her cheek pressing into the thick fabric of his sweater. He carried her around to the opposite side of her bed, leaning forward and gently placing her onto the warm, soft sheets. He reached over and pulled the thick pile of blankets around her body, taking his time to tuck her in.

Exhausted and oddly satisfied, Miranda never resisted. Instead, she let out a soft bubble of laughter at the strangeness of the situation. He was tucking her in. After all the shit he'd put her through, he was actually tucking her in. This man was a bundle of paradoxes: demanding, yet kind, threatening, yet gentle. Psychopath or caretaker, she couldn't decide.

Warm fingers brushed her hair, trailing down her neck and tracing the curves of her body through the blankets. Never any demanding touches, only calming caresses. She purred softly, settling into her bedding as he stroked her. She didn't fear him anymore; after of his manipulations and threats, he'd tucked her into bed. He'd never intended to kill her, only to fuck her into submission. The results were astonishing, though his methods could use some work. In the end, though, he was gentle.

A kind rapist. What an oxymoron that is.

He gave her a few soft taps on her ass, then stepped back from the bed. With her eyes still closed, Miranda heard him pick up the glass from the floor and walk back to the kitchen, placing the glass in the sink. He stepped out of the kitchen and made his way around the bed and towards the window he'd entered from. She heard a soft shuffling, then the latch of her window clicking into place. The room was deathly silent, the cold breeze that had previously seeped into the room now gone. Dazed, confused, and improbably satisfied, Miranda settled into her bed, losing herself in the warmth of the blankets and the softness of her pillows.

What the hell? What the holy, fucking hell?

Exhaustion finally consumed her, shutting her mind off and drawing into sleep.

* * *

Two Months Later

The thin handles of the plastic grocery bags were starting to dig into her palms, making her wince in discomfort. She grunted as she hauled the four heavily loaded bag us the stairwell, cursing her stubbornness. Like any other normal person, she'd much rather die than take a second trip to carry her bags into her apartment, and that stubbornness was now biting her in the ass. Passing the foyer, she struggled to wave at the front desk workers, who smiled back and waved, welcoming her home.

Reaching the third floor landing, Miranda juggled the bags out of the way as she fished for her keys in her purse. She pulled out her keys just as she reached her door, twisting herself into a bizarre yoga pose to reach the lock. She kicked open the door and squeezed inside, using the heel of her foot the push it closed. Making her way into the kitchen, she dropped the bags onto the small linoleum counters and sighed, rubbing her hands together to sooth the ache in the palms.

"I'll put those away later."

Much later. She'd managed to be given the day off from work, but while she didn't have to spend hours combing through investor records, she did spend the entire day running errands. Her feet ached and her legs were sore from the miles of walking she'd done, which meant a well-deserved bath was in order. She left the kitchen and headed back towards the main hallway of her apartment, relocking her door as she kicked off her well-loved Chuck Taylors. Rolling her neck to relieve some of the kinks, she pulled her thin grey tank top over her head and balled it up in her hands, tossing it onto her bed. She unbuttoned her jeans and kicked them off, leaving them in a pile on the floor. She turned towards the bathroom, visions of soothing heat and soft music flitting through her head.

A soft, cool gust of air rushed past her, raising goosebumps on her arms. She shivered slightly, rubbing her arms to shield them from the sudden chill.

"Jesus, it's cold in here. I could have sworn I turned on the heater-"

The window.

Her hear nearly stopped. She swallowed sharply, drawing in a shaky breath. He body froze in place, a shiver of fear racing down her spine. The sound of heavy footsteps moving behind her made her jump, her stomach tying itself into knots. They stopped a few feet behind her, signaling the arrival of another person. Dear sweet God, he was back.

How? How?! I changed the lock on that window!

Apparently, new locks and a better security system didn't bother him one bit. He was too talented, too experienced to worry about such trivial things. He'd found his way past the new security guards and busted the new lock on her window, crawling in and waiting for her just as he had done months earlier. His execution was the same, though he'd been smart enough to adapt to a new standard of obstacles. Despite his imposing appearance and frightening methods, this man was truly a wonder.

Miranda sighed. She'd dealt with this once before and knew well enough that fighting would get her nowhere. His body was too strong, his reflexes too fast that he would block every offensive move she might make. And if he was still operating with that same system, that mean he still had his knife. No matter how scared or brave she was, that blade was too much of a threat to take on.

Compliance got me a reprieve last time. Dear God, I hope this works.

She never turned to look at him, instead choosing to stare at the hardwood plans under her feet. Reaching back, she fumbled for the clasp of her bra, her hands shaking out of nervousness. Her fingers slipped from the plastic hooks a few times before finally working them apart. She slowly pulled the lacy fabric away from her skin and dropped it to the floor, the cold rush of air making her nipples tighten and goosebumps rise on her skin.

The footsteps moved again, growing louder as he came closer to her, stopping just inches behind her. Miranda continued to stare at the floor, her heart racing, waiting for his knife, his hands, anything. A pointed tip of cold metal, thin and sharp, gently pressed against the small of her back, making her jump. It dragged gently up the length of her spine before lifting off her skin. She shivered slightly, a mix of fear and cold. As much as she knew his intent from the last time they'd met - fucking her until she collapsed - that knife still scared the shit out of her.

She heard him take another step towards her, felt the warm fabric of his sweater pressing against her shoulder blades. He was just as tall and muscular as she'd remembered, His body still towering over her slight frame. A warm hand, clad in the same black leather gloves he'd worn last time, reached around and cupper her breast, squeezing and rolling her nipple between his fingers.

Damn it. He remembered everything.

Sheathing his knife, the intruder reached around and cupped her other breast, warming her chilled flesh in his palms. Miranda closed her eyes, purring involuntarily. Just like the last time, he knew exactly what moves to make to render her mind useless. Sighing softly, she relaxed a bit, sinking back against the strong wall of muscle behind her. She felt his body arch a bit as he leaned forward, drawing her closer into his frame. The soft fabric of his mask brushed against her neck, warm breath spilling over her skin. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back and he nuzzled her neck. Her compliance had worked in her favor; instead of acting like a deadly predator chasing his prey, he treated her like a lover, using softer touches and fewer threats.

One of his hands slipped away from her breast, causing her to whimper softly. His warm leather-clad fingers skimmed down her taut stomach to her lace panties, slipping under the waistband and pulling them downwards. He worked them down to her knees, pulling his fingers away and resting his palm on her hip as she kicked them away. Satisfied with her nakedness, his hand moved between their bodies, reaching down to caress one firm, sloth ass cheek. He massaged it gently, drawing out another contented purr from her throat. The hand on her breast continued to tease and torment her nipple, slowly but surely breaking down the last of her resistance.

He moved his hands from her ass, sliding it over the smooth skin of her hip and down between her thighs. Miranda inhaled sharply as his fingers slipped through her legs, gently rubbing the lips of her pussy. One finger moved higher and circled her clit, making her shiver against his body. He was still gentle, still patient, still taking his time with her. His fingers lingered there for a moment, sensuously rubbing and teasing her sex. She chewed her lip as he worked her, savoring every pull and twist of his expert hands.

Without warning he pulled away from her, his warm hands leaving her breast and sex. She whimpered softly, strangely missing the warmth of his gloved fingers. She felt him move behind her, crouching slightly as he slipped one arm around her shoulders and another under her knees. He straightened, lifting her off the ground and holding her against his body.

"Whoa! Hey, easy!"

Before she could complain further, he started towards the bed. Miranda look up at her captor, his face still obscured by a dark mask. His eyes were the same soft, warm grey she remembered, only now they were determined instead of annoyed. Stopping at the edge of her bed, he leaned down and lowered her onto her soft bedding. Stepping back, he knelt down in front of her nightstand and pulled the handle of the third drawer, exposing her small collection of sex toys.

Miranda lay on her side, watching him. It was strange how comfortable she felt around him now. She didn't know him, yet she felt oddly at ease lying naked on her bed, watching as he sifted through her toys. Most women would have tried to make a break for it by now, taking any chance they could get to escape the same mane who'd assaulted them once before. But somehow, she felt she knew better. His intrusions were never about anger or power or violence. They were more sex-centered, focused on playing with her rather that scaring her.

What a strange man...

Her captor pulled out a small selection of her toys, a small vibrator and two silicone dildos. Clearly, he meant to explore much more than he had last time. He pushed the drawer closed and sat down next to her on the bed, his bright, youthful eyes both excited yet cautious. His warm gloved fingers reached out and traced the curve of her ass, rubbing his heated palm slowly across her smooth skin. Miranda stifled a purr, trying not to tip her hand too much. Yes, she enjoyed his touch, but she wasn't going to let him win that easily.

She chewed her lip nervously as she looked up at him. "Hey."

His eyes flicked to her, unemotional, yet curious.

She smiled softly. "Do you mind if we skip the belt thing? It scares me."

His eyes softened, and she could swear his was smiling at her underneath his mask. His hand drifted up from her ass, tracing every curve and dip of her figure. His fingers drew up her neck to her jaw line, cupping under her chin. His thumb stroked her lower lip, slipping between her lips and pressing gently against her warm tongue.

Miranda gave a tiny laugh and nodded, pulling away from his fingers. "Alright, alright. Take your pants off."

His grey eyes shined as he stood up from the bed, unbuckling his belt and pulling down the zipper from his pants. His cock sprung forward, just as proud and impressive as she'd remembered. A thin sheen of latex covered its length.

Always prepared.

Miranda pushed herself up onto her knees, kneeling in front of him on the bed. She reached out and gently stroked his cock with her fingers, watching it twitch at the contact. She smiled and rolled her eyes, shifting so that she was comfortable. Her captor reached forward, twisting his fingers into her hair and pulling her an inch closer. She rubbed the underside of his cock with her thumb, tilting her head up to look at him.

"Hey, gentle with me this time, okay? That belt of yours left some pretty weird bruises for me to explain."

His eyes smiled at her as he stroked her hair, a signal of his own compliance. She smiled again and leaned forward, licking the tip of his cock playfully. How she'd managed to twist her fear into playfulness was still baffling, but nothing she'd ever try to undo. Imposing and startling as his methods were, at least he set clear rules and played fair. This wasn't about pain of fear or power, it was about sex, albeit a different mentality towards it. This was fear mixed with pleasure, power mixed with playfulness. It wasn't just one or the other, it was everything at once. Something unorthodox, yet enjoyable.

If she played her part, they'd both enjoy it. And she was determined to enjoy it.