Chapter 53
Jake
Felicity runs through the darkened forest, her heart pounding.
She looks behind her, attempting to balance her focus between the direction she’s going and the fear driving her forward.
All that she sees behind her is the shadows of the pine trees towering over the forest floor.
The moon shines bright, almost directly above her, granting her the ability to see her way without a flashlight.
What it doesn’t help her to see, however, is the root sticking out ever so slightly on the ground.
Felicity lets out a yelp as she catches her toe on the root causing her to stumble and eventually fall to the ground.
That’s the moment the masked man casually steps out of the woods beside her.
He’d been there all along. Keeping pace with her.
While on the ground her chest heaves in exertion but he remains calm.
A slow and steady breath from a trimmed chest underneath his black t-shirt.
The shirt is tight to his body and shows off his arms full of tattoos.
Felicity has seen these tattoos before. An ace of spades, a dagger, and a grim reaper are just a few that she recognizes.
“Why do you run, Kitten?” he asks, his voice deep and raspy with the help of the voice changer strapped to his neck.
“Why do you run when you already know you’re mine.
” Felicity, her ample chest heaving can’t catch her breath long enough to answer the question.
The masked man, who she now knows is Tyler, has been stalking her for weeks.
She suspects now that it’s been much longer than she realized.
All those love notes, the surprise flowers she thought were from someone else, her favorite chocolates that were left by her bedside every night.
At first, she was terrified. Someone was breaking into her house.
Leaving her messages. She felt the fear of always being watched.
Now, as the man who’s been doing it all lifts one leg over her, straddling her body lying on the ground, she’s no longer afraid.
“Are you mine, Kitten?” he asks again. Felicity nods this time in answer.
“That’s right. Good girl,” he replies as he drops down to his knees, unzipping his black jeans.
Me: Holy fucking shit. It was Tyler the whole time?!
“Chasing Kitten” is the third book that Scarlett has lent me and I have to admit that I am a bit taken aback.
When I said I would read her romance books I was expecting Nicholas Sparks novels.
Cute, warm and fuzzy romance where the two lead characters are high school sweethearts that broke up for college and are now back at home and it’s like the years never passed.
That is not at all what these are. Whenever Scarlett isn’t in bed next to me when I read I text her updates about the books.
This one, she warned, could be the one that turns me off to this whole idea but my half hard cock under the sheets begs to differ.
Scarlett: I know, right? I didn’t see that one coming.
Me: Is this your fantasy?
After every sexy scene in a book I ask her if that’s what she wants.
With the first two books she seemed indifferent.
Maybe she’d be into it but it wasn’t really what she was looking for.
I see the three dots appear on the screen showing that Scarlett is typing.
They disappear. A few seconds later they come back and then disappear again.
After a few more seconds she finally sends a text.
Scarlett: Would you judge me if it was?
I respond immediately.
Me: Nope, I would only try to figure out if the woods behind my fields are big enough to chase you down.
Scarlett: With the mask?
Me: Of course.
Scarlett: Because the mask is an important part.
Me: I’ll try not to look too deep into that.
Scarlett: Laughing emoji.
Scarlett and I haven’t really had a conversation about what we are, but we’ve been nearly inseparable for the three weeks since Amelia saw Scarlett sneaking out of my window.
Every morning she wakes up and checks on her chickens that are getting bigger every day, then she pops over here to help me with Henrietta and the rest of the chores around the farm.
Together we mapped out her greenhouse and put together a crude drawing of how she wants the rest of her acreage to be used.
Tomorrow I’ll get up bright and early and go help her finish building her goat pen because she’s got a newly pregnant goat arriving next week.
The look on her face when she arrived at my front door.
She forcefully held out her phone so that I could see the picture of a nubian goat that looked like it could be Henrietta’s sister.
“Her name is Penny!” Scarlett said excitedly.
“Will you help me build her pen, I drew up an idea I had.” On her phone she switched over to her notes app where she had drawn a pen that looked very similar to Henrietta’s but with a few brilliant adjustments.
The days are getting warmer, which means so are the nights. I open the window to the bedroom and then I take a picture with my phone.
Me: I opened your door for you. Wink emoji.
Scarlett: ha ha.
Before I can type another message to her I hear a knock at the door.
My heart skips a beat as a smile spreads wide across my face.
When I swing the door open Scarlett stands in front of me.
The hand that was knocking lowers down to her side and the massively oversized t-shirt slides off one shoulder.
My eyes trail farther down and I see that her legs are bare.
The only article of clothing on her body is a t-shirt she stole from me last week.
To be fair though, she stole it because I accidentally popped the buttons off of her dress.
Last week I went over to help her in the greenhouse and she was wearing a burgundy sundress that buttoned all down the front.
She bent over in front of me and all I could think about was getting her out of that dress.
I didn’t mean to pull off the buttons, I just got a little excited.
“I came to return your shirt,” Scarlett says with a wild grin.
Something about this woman turns me into a neanderthal.
I grab the extra fabric that hangs off her body and pull her inside the door.
Once she’s inside I close the door and push her body up against it.
I kiss her like I’ve been starving for her, because I have.
We see each other daily but just being apart for hours has me wanting her like I’m drowning and she’s my last breath.
My hands roam her body, feeling the curves and dips that are becoming so familiar.
Without breaking contact with our lips I reach down to the hem of her –my– shirt and tug it upwards.
I caress her middle, her soft skin warm beneath my fingertips.
I trace her skin farther south and realize she is completely bare underneath my t-shirt.
My knees buckle slightly and I groan into her mouth.
I feel her lips curve into a smile at my pleasure and I pull away to look at her.
“You are such a dirty girl,” I say between breaths. My chest is heaving with desire, my cock straining against the cotton fabric of my sweatpants. Her breasts rise and fall in the same rhythm that mine does as she lets out a little chuckle.
“Just the way you like it.” And she’s right. I fucking love how sexy she is, without even trying. She doesn’t need make up or fancy clothes. Just her is all I need.
I tap her naked ass just enough to get a satisfying slap sound and she yelps as I drop slightly in order to toss her over my shoulder and take her to my bed.