Chapter Five
Dante
It’s been a couple of days since I last appeared at the Hart pharmacy. But I’ve been around; only she’s not seen me. That was by choice.
I’ve purposefully stayed hidden in the shadows, watching her, protecting her. There are others who could do the job, but I’ve taken Evangeline on as my personal pet project.
I like the sound of that. Evangeline as my pet. Something that belongs only to me, no one else. Only I can touch her, claim her, and keep her safe from the monsters at her door. I realize I, too, am a monster, but I also know I’m the monster she needs.
She doesn’t know I’m now invading not only her business, but tonight, I’m in her private sanctum, her apartment. I’m quiet, not wanting to wake her.
Using the lock-picking skills I picked up back when I was working on the streets as a foot soldier, I open the flimsy door to her tiny apartment above the pharmacy while she sleeps. It’s easy, too fucking easy. A situation I’m planning on correcting. Soon.
Any criminal could break in and hurt her or rape her. The thought makes me see red. I’m the only criminal who’s allowed into Evangeline’s space, her bedroom, and eventually, her bed.
My justification for breaking into her apartment is in the name of protecting her as I’ve now assigned myself the role of her personal bodyguard, not a stalker. I’m a criminal kingpin. Not some low-level creep who preys on women.
Sure, I may be looking through her things right now, as I’m searching for clues about the history of Evangeline Hart, looking for what makes her tick.
And I may be touching her panties, bringing them to my nose, inhaling her sweet musky scent, then tucking them in my pocket for safekeeping, but that does not make me a stalker.
An obsessed panty-sniffer definitely, but not a stalker. There’s a distinction.
Her apartment is cozy, very homey, with the smell of lavender hovering in the air, throw pillows on old, upholstered furniture, and scattered pictures of family.
In one, there’s young Evangeline with a man and a woman who I assume are her parents, another hanging on the wall of Evangeline with her aunt and uncle on her graduation day, proudly displaying her diploma with an endearing smile.
It also looks like someone threw up old-fashioned Halloween all over the small space.
She must love the holiday and is likely the one responsible for the carved pumpkins and other decorations downstairs.
The plastic pumpkins, fake spider webbing, and hanging skeletons are dated, likely from decades ago.
It makes me wonder if these were from her childhood, and she’s clinging to memories of long ago.
My poor, lonely girl. Her only surviving family is that asshole, Silas. Knowing this makes me crave to give her the family she so desperately needs. I can be that family for her, providing her with the stability neither of us grew up with.
Resolved, I know right now I need to focus on the task at hand.
And I’m trying, truly I am. I deliberately avoid looking at her on her bed, knowing full well if I do, I may not leave.
There’s a small bookshelf haphazardly filled with paperback and hardback novels in her tiny bedroom. Because I’m nosy as fuck, I look at the titles, surprised to find my girl has a taste for dirty romance.
Hmmm … good to know. That I can work with.
Now, I can’t wait to make her fictional fantasies become a reality.
I snap a picture of the titles so I can order them, read them.
I can’t wait to see what turns her on, what makes her wet or makes her touch herself in the middle of the night until she comes.
I’m also very thankful there isn’t any of that dragon or fairy shit my cousin insists on reading all the time. Hard to make that happen for her unless I sprout fucking wings.
One quick inspection of her place and I’m armed with new insight into my Evangeline. I also know without a doubt that she can’t stay here for long. She’s too vulnerable, too exposed. Too na?ve about the things going on in her store, beneath the very place she calls home.
Deciding I’ve snooped enough for the night, I start to leave but can’t help but take it one step too far. Which is saying something considering I’d already broken into her apartment, touched her things, and stolen her panties.
Yeah, I’m fucking up. All because I can’t resist stealing a glance at the angel sleeping peacefully in her little bed, likely one she’s had since childhood. With one hand flung over her head, the other over her chest, her breathing is deep and even.
She’s so goddamn beautiful, I can only stare at her in awe.
Unable to resist, I reach up to move a tendril of her golden hair from her forehead but catch myself as she moans. She turns her head, then kicks the covers from her legs as if she’s overheated.
Not possible. This small shithole is freezing. Christ, doesn’t she have heat?
I make the mistake of glancing down at her tiny, shapely legs with her pink-painted toes.
Not once have I ever considered myself a “foot” guy, but damn, hers are exquisite.
Perfectly arched with slim ankles. Staring at those pink toes makes me want to draw one into my mouth and suck on it, giving all those toes equal attention before I make my way up her legs to her sweet pussy, which I’m dying to taste.
Get your shit together, Vescari, I curse myself and run my hand over my face in frustration. This girl would raise the roof with her screams if she knew I was here. The last thing I want to do is scare her, so I turn to leave once again, but another moan stops me in my tracks.
“Dante, mmmmm…,” she says so softly I can barely hear her, so I move closer. “Please…”
Motherfucker. Is this my punishment for all the bad things I’ve ever done in my life? I’m forced to stand here and watch this angel moan my name as if I’m making love to her in her sleep, without touching her? Not possible.
Fuck it. I decide recklessly. If I’m caught, so be it. I know I can get out of anything. After all, more than half the cops in this town and the mayor are in my back pocket.
Not wanting to scare her, I lean over, brushing my lips over hers. And Holy Mother of God. She tastes so damn sweet. And because I’m a greedy fucker and want more, I press harder, skimming my tongue along her bottom lip.
She must be dreaming of our kiss because her tongue darts out and meets mine. For a moment, I allow myself to plunder her mouth, no longer worried about waking her.
She continues to make soft kitten sounds, squirming in her sheets, hips raised, searching for a release. My cock throbs with the need to take her because I know exactly what she needs.
But I don’t. If I go any further, I won’t be able to stop with a mere kiss, so pulling back, I lick my lips, tasting her. The temptation is strong to take much more if I choose, but I won’t.
I, a Vescari, take the fucking high road. That’s a damn miracle.
Sporting a rock-hard cock, I make myself leave, hating to leave her wanting, but needing to get the hell out of there before I cross a line by burying my cock deep inside her and fucking her as she sleeps.
Carefully, I make sure there are no signs I was ever here and lock her door behind me, cursing its flimsy ass lock.
Once home, I stroke myself until I come with my nose buried in her panties, her musky scent surrounding me, and I don’t feel an ounce of remorse.
Unsatisfied, yes, but no guilt.