The Stalker
Fuck.
I grit my teeth. The need for her is worsening. Her body moves like a fucking symphony and I want to bathe in the music. The way her hips roll has me imagining doing filthy things to her. I want her to dance for me. For me and no one else.
My thumb slides over my tip, spreading the pre-cum around. Shivers erupt at the sensitivity. My hand grabs the head of my cock and I slide it downward slowly. I don’t think I’ve ever been this consistently fucking feral in my life.
I’m watching her through my phone screen, a little angry at the fact that this is how close I’m getting to her lately. If I could just reach in and grab her… My breath hitches, leaving my jaw to open a little wider.
I placed a few cameras in and around her dance studio.
I’m not taking any chances after what happened last time she was alone.
There is no such thing as too many cameras in my book.
Her being fully clothed still has me as stiff as a board.
Though I’d rather see her with nothing on, this will have to suffice for now.
My hand moves up my length with a forceful grip. I look down and spit, giving myself a little more slip. The song they're dancing to needs to be on repeat with how short it is, but I know it won’t take me long to come. I zoom in, centering her on my screen.
She bounces up and down to the beat, her hair whipping in all sorts of directions, and I imagine her bouncing on me. Moving her hips, slapping herself against me. My eyes close shut, and I bite my lip roughly.
Fuck yeah, baby, just like that. Such a good girl. Ride my cock.
I can hear the imaginary moans kiss my ears. The way she parts her mouth and grips me in approval. My head leans backward, feeling the closeness of my climax reaching.
I open my eyes once more, needing to see my Little Flower move again. She’s caressing herself, panting heavily, and I love to watch the rise and fall of her breasts. My face contorts before my warm come shoots out. I moan, feeling my release deep within escape me.
I close the video and clean myself up, not feeling one bit ashamed of my need for her. If I don’t have her soon, the world will fucking pay. For now, I have to pay Zane a visit. He's been on his hands and knees for me since the other night.
I forgave him. He’s been by my side since forever. Will the need to strangle him ever go away? Probably not. He’s like the “Robin” to my “Batman”. The very annoying Robin to my muscled, chiseled, badass Batman.
I grab my mask from the glass shelf in my garage before leaving. I spent this morning remaking it, so I definitely want to put it to use. This time I hop in my Challenger. My Little Flower knows the bike Axel drives, but luckily, I have choices.
The engine howls as I make my way to Zane's house. He lives a few minutes from me. The thought of living in the city never appealed to him either. Makes it easier for me to see him. And it makes it easier for him to do me favors.
I arrive and park in his driveway. It’s just as big as mine. He may have to upgrade soon, with how fast the relationship between Zoe and him is moving. I wouldn't have thought it was going to get as serious as it is. He is fucking whipped.
The car door slams behind me while I approach his front door. As soon as I lift my fist to knock, the door opens on its own. I peer around the hardwood, and he isn't in sight. What the hell? I push the crack open a little further, suspicion picking at my senses.
“Hello? Shit head?” I ask into the darkness. First of all, it’s daytime, why the hell is it dark in here? Second of all, how the hell did his door open? I pull the knife from my pocket, ready to use it at any moment. I wait for a response, but all I hear is crickets.
I slip through the doorway and make my way down the short hall that leads to his living area.
A small white light shines through into the hall, as if a TV is on.
I’m quiet with my steps, though my boots would love to disagree.
I round the corner and see Zane's computer on, but no Zane. I cock an eyebrow.
“Boo!” A voice shouts from behind me, and I swing my arm toward the person. I miss. And I’m glad I do. The startle I felt quickly turns into fury at the man who is chuckling in my face. Maybe a little cut wouldn't hurt him, might teach him a lesson.
“I swear to God, I will fucking kill you one of these days,” I say, waving the blade in front of his face. His head shakes and he throws his hands up, pretending to surrender.
“The big bad wolf is coming. I’m scared. You would never, you need me and you know it.” He pushes my hand away, and I let him. He’s right. I do need him. As much as I fucking hate to admit it.
“How the hell did your door open anyway?” I ask, entering his living room. I glance around at all the screens that are placed neatly on his desk. He has six monitors. Three stacked on top of one another. He has multiple light-up keyboards scattered, and cords snaking around the floor.
He has way more equipment than the last time I was over. Why does one need this much? Who knows? How he feels about tech is how I feel about my helmets though. I can't fault the guy for having a hobby. I swear he is more of a fucking creep than I am.
“You like it? I installed this new system that has facial recognition, so I can click a button to open the door if I know who it is. And if I want to let them in.” His eyebrows rise and fall a few times, with an ear to ear grin.
I shake my head, acting like I'm impressed. He's extra, and he knows it.
“Guys like you don't understand the complexity of things like this. Plus, I built it myself,” he says, feeling accomplished. The smile drops from his face as I just stand there, not saying anything. He waves his hand in my direction.
“Do you have some info for me or not? I’m not here to talk about doors.” I push, knowing damn well he has something to help with our ongoing investigation. He rushes to his desk, quickly sitting on the cushioned chair behind it.
“Well, you remember the mask he was wearing, right? And I told you that only three stores had that specific type in stock?” I gesture with my hand for him to continue.
“It was the store located closer to town. It was purchased at the one near D’s house. I hacked the system to trace purchases made and kept an eye out for that mask in particular. Turns out no one has bought that mask in months. The last one sold was the same day D was attacked,” he continues.
“Do you think it was premeditated planning? Or do you think it was a spur-of-the-moment thing?” I ask.
I’m glad he was able to narrow down the purchases, but I definitely wasn't expecting that the mask was purchased the same day of the attack.
I would assume it would have been thought out, with how we couldn't find a trace of him.
Speaking from experience, of course, but that doesn't make it any better.
If it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, it may be harder to find the person.
If it was planned, that doesn’t make it any fucking better, due to it potentially being someone she knows.
The fact that she could have been stalked while I was stalking her makes me feel more protective of her. How could I not have noticed?
“I’m not sure. I do know that he was driving a red SUV. I traced the cameras back to that day and watched. His face was well hidden. He wore a hood that covered him well, so I couldn't get a look at his face, unfortunately.”
“Were you able to trace his car to the next place, or before that?”
“I tried. He kept going beneath underpasses and back roads where there are limited cameras. He was driving in all directions. It was like he knew he was being wat—”
Searing pain ripples through me, and I collapse on the floor. The tightness in my chest constricts me. I struggle to take a full breath in. I can see Zane’s figure over me. It's a black blur, almost like an apparition. My hands clutch at my chest, the pain feeling like a hundred knives.
“Why can’t you just be normal?” she says.
Everything goes quiet. Tears begin to pool. I’m fucking tired of this. My body slumps to the floor. I curl in on myself, pulling my knees into my chest and banging my head against my kneecaps.
I don't know how to be normal.
I don't know how to be normal.
I don't know how to be normal.
I don't know how to be normal.
My vision clears. The wind from the ceiling fan hitting my face. I stare at the rotating panels. Round and round and round. Zane’s face pops in front, interrupting.
“Bro, what the fuck? Are you okay?” he asks. My head is hazy, causing me to rub by hand against my temple. No fucking way I had a flashback here. Zane doesn’t know about them. No one needs to fucking know about them, besides the angel who will help me fix them.
“Hmm? Yeah, no. I’m fine.” I push myself up into a sitting position, instantly feeling the throbbing in my skull. My face clenches with pain. I hate the headaches that come with them. Who would've known flashbacks came with extra side effects.
“You sure? You kept mumbling, ‘I don’t know how to be normal’ over and over,” he says with eyes boring into mine.
The thought of telling him what’s been going on with me makes me want to jump off a fucking cliff.
If I can get these episodes under control before then, there won’t be a need for a ruckus.
“Yeah, no. I’m good. I’ve just been a little stressed,” I say, avoiding the truth. He gives me a nod, and I can tell he’s not buying it, but I couldn't give a shit about what he thinks. There are more important things to deal with right now.
“So, you said he knew he was being watched?” I question. The thought alone makes me want to break every bone in that fuckers body. Does he know about me? Has he watched me with her?
“It seems that way. I mean, we don’t know for sure… yet.” He eyes me up and down, concern still in the air like a fucking plague. Personally, I don’t like people in my business, let alone their pity. I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Red SUV. Got it. And, uh, thank you,” I grit, hating the sentimental words. His eyes shoot up.
“Umm, yeah. I owe you, remember?” he says awkwardly. Both of us are uncomfortable with feelings. It’s what makes our friendship work. A toxic, dysfunctional, unstable relationship that is. I eye him, wondering if he's just as damaged as I am.
“Yeah, you do. Forever, dipshit.”