The Stalker
The movement of her body hypnotizes me. Everything this woman does is fucking hypnotizing. The club scene has never appealed to me, but I followed my Little Flower in here, already feeling a possessive need over her.
Something within her gentle nature makes me want to taint her. Corrupt her to the point that she is questioning every life choice she makes. She's almost too perfect. What makes an angel fall? The demons within me, perhaps.
She looked damn fucking good in what she was wearing, but the fact that other men were staring at her too, only heightened my mood.
Didn’t she know other men were going to be eye-fucking her all night?
Any fucker that looked her direction made me want to gouge their eyes out and feed them to them on a silver platter.
Anytime I saw another man even look like he was contemplating going up to her, I made sure they knew she was mine.
The throbbing of my knuckles brings a smirk to my face.
They're tinted pink, with a crack across my middle knuckle—turns out that pretty boy’s cheekbone was a little bit stronger than I gave him credit for.
All I wanted was for my flower to enjoy her night.
I just sure as fuck made sure that happened.
Selfishly, of course. It's beyond me how I didn't get thrown out of the club. It only took one punch to the face to get my point across. Actions speak louder than words, right? In fact, I’m not much of a talker, anyway.
However, I do like to observe. One girl in particular, that is.
Her eyes meeting mine wasn't intentional. But it made me elated that she had looked my way twice. It took everything in me not to ruin my plans, walk straight up to her, kidnap her, and chain her in my basement.
If I’m not mistaken, she was eye-fucking me right back.
Glad to know I’m her type. Though even if I wasn’t, she wouldn’t have another option.
Fuck. The way her eyes trailed up my body until they met mine, the rosy flush blossoming across those perfect cheeks, turning them a perfect shade of pink—I wish I had snapped a photo.
It’s a moment that will be engraved in my memory.
Her roommate interrupted the interaction, unfortunately catching her attention and dragging her to the bar.
So, I followed at a distance. Dahlia was too busy taking in her surroundings and staring at the wall I had been leaning against that she didn't notice I was four feet away in the other direction.
Once the bartender set their drinks on the bar, I was quick to pop in my Axel special, already knowing which one she’d choose. And, like the good girl she is, she grabbed the right glass. Attagirl!
Watching her friend struggle to get incoherent Dahlia back to the apartment was pretty fucking painful.
Of course, I could've been a gentleman and helped, but I’m not one.
I watched through the cameras in their apartment as her friend got Dahlia changed and tucked her into bed.
As soon as she was settled, I picked the lock and quickly made my way to my girl's bedroom, careful to keep quiet, so I didn’t draw the attention of her roommate after she had slipped into her own.
Before entering, I opened my hacking app to make things a lot more convenient for me.
And by making things convenient, I mean looping her cameras, leaving no trace of me ever having been here.
My eyes lose focus before regaining their vision again.
The bright light blinds me. I’m standing with nothing but my underwear on, back pressed against the cold bedroom wall.
“If I get a call from your school again, I will show everyone this photo. Is that what you want? Is that what you need me to do? Embarrass you? Because I will!”
A wet streak falls down my cheek, and my arms cross over my midsection, trying to feel less vulnerable. I’m shaking. I’m scared. I’m always scared.
“No, Mommy, please.” I let out a quiet tremble.
“This is your last warning. Do you hear me? If you want to act so tough at school, I can show everyone just how tough you are at home.”
I shake my head, pulling myself out of the lost memory. Little triggers overwhelm my thoughts, consuming me without notice. The most perfect woman is right in front of me; how could I be lost in my head right now?
She is lying peacefully on her bed. The back of my hand gently caresses her cheek, and she doesn't move, not even an inch. Looks like the drugs I slipped into her drink are doing their job.
A strand of her hair falls off her face, giving me a full view of her beautiful features in the process. She is fucking magnificent; it’s picturesque. She is resting on her side with her hands placed in front, as in prayer. The way I'd give anything to hear her pray for my cock.
Mental note: Make Dahlia pray for my cock, check.
The bulge in my pants is thickening with every second that passes, making the ache of wanting to be inside her painful, but tonight I’m refraining from my urges.
I want to do unholy things to my girl, but that'll come with time.
Although the game is the best part, isn't it?
The hunt, the thrill of it all, is what makes it so exhilarating.
My body hovers above hers as my hand continues to trail down her frame, feeling every curve, retaining it to memory.
She’s so fucking perfect. Perfect for me and only me.
Her silk nightgown is the only thing separating our bodies from touching, and it's making me very impatient.
I want to rip it off her, but even with her system in dormancy, I fear it may wake her.
I would be anything but ravenous. Something about her makes me conflicted inside.
My hand reaches the end of her nightgown.
My fingers line the seam for a moment, feeling the fabric on my fingertips as I rub the material between them.
I begin to lift the thin fabric cautiously until her lower half is exposed.
An aching breath escapes the depths of my lungs as I glare at her. Vulnerable. Clueless. Unaware.
I give her shoulder a gentle push, her body shifting limply onto her back. I study her from top to bottom. What a fucking sight. The room is lit faintly by the street lamp shining outside her bedroom window, highlighting every curve perfectly as if it molded her itself.
I turn, reaching for a bag I had placed on the mattress beside her. Unzipping the fabric, I grab my camera, flipping the switch on. I push myself up onto my knees, getting a better view. A small flash illuminates the room for a momentarily before I quickly place the small machine back into my bag.
I'll be using that later.
It’s taking every fiber in my being to not touch her. Not to shred this fucking fabric between us and consume every inch of her. Watching her limp body beg me to take advantage of her has my dick rock hard.
Fuck it. I lower myself, pressing my body onto hers. Rubbing my large bulge against her center, yearning for a little friction. The confinement of my jeans gives me more pressure. I imagine it’s her tight walls, gripping my length. I rub against her more, dry-humping her beautiful body.
My heavy breaths escape me, spilling onto her fair skin like heated kisses. I don't refrain from staring at her beautiful, slumbering face. I imagine fucking her awake. Her fear consuming her, but deep within, she is loving it.
I feel my release creep up and I spill into the crevices of my briefs, seeping through till there's a dark spot near the pocket of my jeans. I groan, feeling every drop release, emptying me out. Next time, it’ll be inside her.
I adjust myself as I lift off her. I wince as the tip of my cock feels chafed from the grinding. I won't regret that later. I make my way into her kitchen. Taking a glass from the cupboard, I pour water into it, watching as it rises to the rim.
My Little Flower will be thirsty tomorrow from all the toxins. Making sure she stays hydrated is important. I’m not a monster, I'm just an asshole. She will thank me.
After placing the clear glass on the nightstand, I lower my head until my lips lay near her ear.
“See you soon, Little Flower.” I whisper, my voice low, leaving an open-mouthed kiss before slipping away.