Daddy's little agent
Laying on my stomach with my phone cradled against my face, I let sleep carry me to the edge, only as I’m hovering do I feel the hot hand on my thighs.
A sigh escapes me when the hand crawls over my skin, it’s so hot it should burn, it burns, but it feels good.
I know this is a fragment of my imagination, there’s no way something from the shadows was groping me, there’s no sense in that, seeing as first, the shadow would have to be a living thing, free to move around without a body.
And that’s just a creepy thought.
“I read articles about a sleep paralysis demon, is that what you are?” I ask sleepily, as the hands inched up my thigh. They part for the hands involuntarily.
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