21. Phoebe
Chapter twenty-one
Phoebe
A fter the craziness of the morning, I decided to head back home instead of going to class. My stomach is tied in knots, and I don’t know if the creepy sensation that someone is watching me is real or all in my head. I rushed inside my tiny apartment, locking the door and ensuring all the windows were shut, but it wasn’t enough to make me feel safe, and a cold chill took over my body, despite the warm temperature inside the space, causing my teeth to chatter. I ended up closing all the curtains, and slipping a kitchen chair under the knob of my front door. I’m currently sitting on my couch, surrounded by every knife I have in the house, a baseball bat within reach, a partially full bottle of Irish whiskey, and my trusty can of pepper spray.
“Why are you shaking, Phebes?” Nicolo’s voice questions from behind me, as I wrap my arms tightly around my knees, and attempt to hide my tear-streaked face from him. I don’t want him to see what happened. He’s going to be mad, and probably get into trouble because of me .
“Look at me, Phebes!” He demands, as he makes his way around the park bench I’m sitting on, and I try to swipe at my face with my shaking hands. My cheek stings, with both heat and pain, and I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek to stem the sound of my gasp. Fuck, why couldn’t it have been my brother, or even Aiden that found me? It still wouldn’t have been great, but at least I know both of them aren’t complete loose cannons like Nicolo. Fuck, Nicolo is going to go nuclear; his temper is the thing nightmares are made of.
A part of me looks forward to him losing his shit on that asshole who thought he could force himself on me. The more sane part of me knows it could lead to him getting arrested or, worse, in trouble with his father. A shudder runs down my body at just the thought of Nico’s dad, Vito Amato. The man terrifies me with his cold, dark-blue gaze. Nico’s fingers gently stroke the top of my hair, and his citrus-lemon and amber scent fills my nose.
Jesus, why does he always smell so good? It should be a crime to look and smell like Nicolo Amato does. The poor women of the world are doomed, if he just keeps getting more handsome as he ages, not to mention his bad boy ways are an aphrodisiac to most of the girls, and even some of the grown women I know. “Please, look at me,” his softened voice, and the plea in his tone, have me lifting my head and meeting his midnight blue gaze. Shock registers first on his face, and is quickly replaced with rage, and it makes my stomach flutter, as if an angry hornet’s nest was trapped inside of me. Ah, fuck, here we go.
“Who did that to you?” His sharp jaw clenches, and ripples with the blunt words. His eyes narrow on my aching face, and he uses my arm to force me to stand before him. I haven’t taken a look in a mirror yet, but just by the pain, and how swollen my cheek feels, and his reaction, I’m guessing it looks much worse than it probably is. I bite down on my lower lip, and his eyes instantly track the movement, as his hand reaches forward and cr adles my face, in a touch so gentle, that it makes more tears escape the corners of my eyes. “Tell me who hurt you, Phoebe.”
“Ch-Chad Everest,” the name slips from trembling lips, and just like that, I know I have sealed Chad’s fate. If he’s not in the hospital by the end of the night, it will be a miracle. Nicolo Amato is a lot of things, charming, intelligent, cunning, handsome, talented at sports, and even a bit manipulative when he wants to be. One thing he is not is forgiving, and he’s made that abundantly clear to anyone who has tried to hurt me, or hurled insults my way in the past.
“He’s fucking dead! He dared to touch you?!” Nicolo tilts my head sideways, so he can get a better look at the slap imprinted on my face. “He... he tried to force his tongue in my... mouth, and when I pushed... him away, and told him... he was a... pig...” I’m full-on sobbing now, and unable to finish my sentence. All the adrenaline is leaving me, as I allow my body to sag against Nico’s strong frame. “He did what?!” Nico pulls me away from his rigid frame, malevolence radiating from him, as he holds my bicep so tightly that I flinch, and he instantly releases his hold, wrapping his arms carefully around me, soothingly rubbing his hand up and down my back. “It will be okay, Phebes. Fuck. I promise he will never fucking touch you again. He won’t touch anyone ever again. I am going to break both his fucking hands, and every one of his fingers! I might even make him swallow his damn tongue.”
His lips meet the top of my head, as he squeezes me tight into his much larger frame. I feel so safe and warm in his arms, all of the fear and anxiety instantly leaving me, as I snuggle deeper into the powerful embrace. Cherished. Wanted. Loved.
I’m sixteen now, and you would think I’d have grown out of my childhood crushes on Nicolo and Aiden, both of whom are my brother’s friends, and are already out of high school. Still, instead of abating, it’s only grown fiercer, despite seeing both of them flirting with other girls over the years. I know it’s ridiculous to even dream about ending up with one of them, never mind both of them, but I’ve never been able to help myself.
“I’m driving you home, and you’re going to stay there while I find that fucker.” I nod my head in agreement. There’s never a point in arguing with Nico when he’s riled up. If I had gone straight home, maybe he wouldn’t have found me here at the park crying, but I think a part of me wanted him or Aiden to find me. I also feared what my father would do if he saw me. As much as I want Chad punished, I don’t want him dead, and that’s exactly what would happen if my father, Tommy ‘Destroyer’ Murphy, the head of the Irish mafia in Chicago, got his hands on him, for marking his only daughter. I’m a jewel to my father, one he’s just waiting to use to his advantage, and god save anyone who taints me.
“Nico, umm, please don’t tell Aiden or Tadhg, please!” I’m so mortified, and I’ll be even more embarrassed if those two find out, especially Aiden.
“You got it, cara mia, this will just remain between us.” He pecks my forehead, and pushes me toward his flashy red BMW.
The next day, when I went to school, all anyone could talk about was how Chad Everest was in intensive care. Every one of his fingers, and both his wrists, had been broken. One of his shoulders was dislocated, and all his front teeth had been knocked out, by some assailant still on the loose. He suffered a punctured lung, and his femur was shattered. He was found in an alleyway, bleeding and beaten, and left for dead. I knew who had attacked him, but I kept silent. The knowledge that Nicolo Amato punished someone so severely, for hurting me, left a warmth inside of me, and I held on tight to it.
I’m pulled out of the memory, and a shiver races down my spine. I almost wish I could call Nicolo right now and tell him that I’m scared, and someone is hunting me. It’s stupid and insane of me becaus e of all the shit he’s done to me, and I know if he found me, he wouldn’t hesitate to drag me back to Chicago, and force me to be his wife.
I force myself to focus on the situation at hand. I couldn’t answer any of the police officer’s questions about what happened to Dwayne, and decided to keep silent about the bloody note that I withdrew from his fingers, and stashed in my pocket. I can’t afford them taking me in for questioning, or looking into my background, or why anyone would want to hurt Dwayne because of me. The truth is, I’ve replayed the whole scene numerous times in my mind, and nothing was out of the ordinary. I didn’t see anyone stab him, or slip that note in his hand. I never saw my hoodie stalker at all, not before, during, or even after.
My eyes return to the crumbled note on my coffee table, and it causes my heart rate to increase, and my chest to feel like it’s being squeezed into a vice. Maybe I should pack up and run again. If I took off for somewhere else under the cover of night, would he follow me? Would I be safe? I don’t have definite answers to any of those questions. For all I know, I could run, and he’ll follow me, and see it as some sort of betrayal or, worse, a game of cat and mouse. I don’t know if this psycho wants to actually hurt me, and that’s part of what frightens me the most.
Once again, the thought that perhaps this is one of my subscribers flows through my mind, and has me dashing for my laptop. I pull up my internal dashboard for Behind the Lens , and check for any messages from Lorna, or any of the other cam workers. Maybe I’m not the only one being stalked. It could be someone with a fetish, or an axe to grind. I would think that Lorna would send out a warning message, if she found out one of us was being targeted. I release the breath I was holding, as I only find a reminder about my scheduled shoot with Chad. Goddamnit, on top of everything else, I still have to deal with that. My fingers hover over the keyboard as I contemplate if I should say someth ing. What the hell would I even say? Hey, Lorna, sorry, some creep is following me around, leaving me notes and dead birds on my car, and oh, yeah, today he stabbed a clingy guy I had a terrible date with, in a coffee shop filled with people, but no one saw a thing, and I have no idea what he even looks like. I sound absolutely insane. If she wasn’t going to fire me before I send that message, she will right after, and I wouldn’t even blame her.
My head pounds viciously from the aftereffects of my hangover, and all the stress of the morning, and my lack of proper sleep, are wearing me down. Everything is catching up with me, and I am one moment away from a complete meltdown. Why does my life have to be such a shitshow? One moment of freedom was all I wanted. To live my life as I see fit, and make my own choices, like anyone else gets to, and it has led me here. I’m once again a frightened girl, feeling trapped and without choices.
I look around my tiny apartment, with my thrift store bargain furniture, eclectic, colorful posters and tapestries on the blue and green painted walls, and the vibrant handmade accent rag rug, that I bought from an artisan at a local fair. This little one-bedroom space might not seem like much, in comparison to the massive, extravagant mansion I lived in back in Chicago. It lacks the sophistication, refinement, and lavishness that I grew up with, and it’s why I love it so much. I chose every single item in this space, bought them with my own hard-earned money, and was ecstatic that it was mine, and reflected who I am, and want to be. Now, it could all be taken away.
My gaze catches on the screen, to all the messages I have from subscribers. One in particular has sent me over seven messages in the last couple of hours. What. The. Fuck. I click on his subscriber name, and almost lose my grip on the laptop, catching it at the last moment, before it goes crashing to the floor .
User: Strokemyshillelagh
Beautiful, please talk to me.
User: Strokemyshillelagh
I would do anything for you. There’s a connection here between us, álainn, and I know you feel it too. Please don’t run from me or shut me out now.
User: Strokemyshillelagh
Can I please see you? Nothing sexual. I just want to make sure you’re okay.
User: Strokemyshillelagh
Please tell me you’re okay.
User: Strokemyshillelagh
álainn, I know you’re feeling embarrassed right now, but you shouldn’t. I want nothing more than to be with you. Please just message me back, so that I know that you are alright.
User: Strokemyshillelagh
Can we please have a private chat? Please. I promise you don’t have to do anything. We will just talk, and there will be no pressure.
User: Strokemyshillelagh
Please tell me you haven’t asked anyone else. Please, don’t. I want to do this with you.
I don’t know what to think about all his messages and pleading. If I wasn’t on a live chat with him when the dead bird and note were being placed on my car, I would think the hoodie guy was him. A smarter woman would see this as an escalation of stalkerish behavior, and immediately block him. Me, I’m sitting here with my fingers shaking, and poised above the keyboard, my body filled with tension, and the driving need to hear his voice again. I click to open his last message and reply, even though the little voice at the back of my mind is calling me all kinds of scathing names right now .
User: Ladypoison
Hey, sorry, I wasn’t feeling great, and to be honest, I was really embarrassed I asked you in the first place. I’ve never done anything like that before. Can we just forget that I did, and move forward from here? I enjoy our chats and would rather that my mistake not impact that.
It’s almost like he’s sitting around waiting for my reply. It’s virtually instantaneous how quickly he responds, and that should worry me. Alarm bells should be going off in my mind right now, and they are, but I am choosing to ignore them, even in my current predicament with an unhinged stalker on the loose. For some reason, I can’t explain, I just don’t think it’s him. Is that incredibly naive and irresponsible of me? A hundred million percent. Am I going to listen to the voice of reason, that is telling me to have contact with none of these guys right now? Probably not.
User: Strokemyshillelagh
Can we have a live chat right now? I will pay for the hour. I just want to see your face.
I bite down on my bottom lip as I read his message again and again. Technically, I can’t have a live chat with him from here anyway. All that has to be done on the Behind the Lens property, using their servers, and there is no way I am leaving my apartment right now. I’m stupid and a bit reckless, but not utterly insane. I can, however, message him back, but I just don’t know if I should.
User: Strokemyshillelagh
Please.
User: Ladypoison
I’m sorry, I can’t do a live chat right now.
User: Strokemyshillelagh
Can we just chat through messages then?
Ugh , what should I do here? Should I just tell him that all of this was a mistake, and that I can’t speak with him anymore? The very thought causes a feeling of loss to soar through me, along with nausea. I don’t want to stop talking to him. He’s the first person since I escaped Chicago, and left everyone I cared for behind, who makes me feel normal and wanted, as if I am not this shadow person who just wants to be loved. I scroll back to all the messages he sent me earlier. You can sense the rising panic in them. Is he really worried that I’ll ask someone else? Yeah, that ship has sailed. I would rather Lorna just fire me at this point.
User: Strokemyshillelagh
Are you still there, álainn?
Everything in me is telling me to just close the message, shut my laptop, and forget all about him. No good can come from continuing to respond to his messages, and I have more than enough to handle right now, without adding more to my overflowing plate. I grab the bottle of whiskey, and take an inelegant rough drink right out of the bottle. The smooth, light flavor, with enticing notes of pepper, wood, and vanilla, hits my taste buds, and burns going down my throat. It helps to ward off the chill that’s wrapped itself around me. I take another huge gulp, knowing I need the liquid courage to help me get through all of this.
User: Ladypoison
I’m here.
Close the chat! Do the smart thing, Phoebe! This will lead only to more danger. What if this guy also develops an obsession with you? How many unhinged men are you going to run from? There won’t be anywhere safe left for you to hide. At the thought of safety, a pair of large hazel eyes enters my mind, and I feel my breath stutter in my chest. God, I miss Aiden. I miss his warm smile, his gruff voice, and the wa y he always made me feel like the most precious thing in the world to him. Nothing hurt me more than lying to his face, and then running for my life. I take another huge gulp, the warming effects of this whiskey making me feel more pliable, as I lean back against the backrest of the couch, and get more comfortable.
User: Strokemyshillelagh
Did you have a good day so far? I missed talking to you. I haven’t been able to concentrate on my work today. You’re all I can think about, beautiful.
Oh. My. God. That is the sweetest thing anyone has said to me in such a long time. The lonely part of me lights up like a little kid at Christmas time with pleasure. He hasn’t been able to think about anything else but me. Fuck. If it hadn’t been for what happened at the school cafe, I probably would have been in the same situation, and only thinking about him. God knows my hangover was due to my mind’s nonstop criticism, and rambling, last night. I take another smaller sip of my drink, and allow my fingers to slide across my keyboard before I can think through my actions.
User: Ladypoison
It wasn’t the greatest, to be honest. Sucked big time. I missed talking to you too. What were you thinking about? ??
Ohmyfuckinggod, what the hell am I doing right now? Am I flirting with him through messages? What is wrong with me? I don’t have time to think of an answer, or analyze my actions, before his next message pops up on the screen, and pulls a small smile from my lips.
User: Strokemyshillelagh
I’m sorry to hear your day wasn’t great. Hopefully, it will get better, now that you’re chatting with me??. I was thinking about ALL of your pretty freckles. Especially the ones on your lower half, if I’m being honest. And the way your f ace lights up when you smile, and how your laugh gives me goosebumps.
Jesus.
I take another massive gulp of whiskey as my face flushes hot. He’s been thinking about how I look naked, and my freckles, especially the ones on my legs and pussy. I know I should probably be embarrassed, and I am to a certain degree, but I’m also starting to get turned on. I can feel my panties getting damp, and my core clenches, as I picture my shadow man stroking himself to the image of me on the screen.
User: Ladypoison
Freckles, huh? That was all you were thinking about?
User: Strokemyshillelagh
No, I was picturing how good you would taste as I licked your pretty, pink pussy, and used my teeth on your hard, little nipples. Every single part of you is beautiful, and I’ll bet you taste sweeter than ice cream. I just want to eat you up. I know you would be my favorite meal.
Oh my lord. He didn’t hesitate to go there. I know I opened the door to it, but I didn’t expect him to march right through it. He’s a man, Phoebe, a horny one on the internet, paying for live porn. You thought he would behave chastely? I chastise myself as I attempt to steady my breath, and reach to pull my shirt off. It’s starting to get really hot in here, or maybe it’s just that I’m starting to feel tipsy, on top of being turned on.
User: Ladypoison
Is that all you would do to me?
I don’t know what has overcome me, I shouldn’t be encouraging him. I should be trying to figure out who the ‘hoodie guy’ is, and how much danger I’m in. I should also be looking for a new job, because when I tell Lorna I’m not doing the calendar shoot, or the live video, she’s going to boot me out of Behind the Lens .
User: Strokemyshillelagh
I love that you’re my dirty girl. You want to know what I would do to you, a mhuirnín? I would start at those sweet, plump lips, and kiss you hard, biting on your lip and sucking it into my mouth, then I would slip my tongue inside of your tasty mouth and feast on you, taking your very breath away. My hands would trail a path down your face, slowly learning every inch and groove, as I take note of all the things that make you feel good, and moan. I would allow my fingers to caress that elegant neck of yours, wrapping them around it and just applying the smallest hint of pressure. Just enough so that you realize who you belong to. My hands would continue down their path, stroking your smooth porcelain skin, and my mouth would follow, tracing every single one of those freckles with my tongue. When I’ve reached your perfect breasts, I would use my fingers to pull on your sexy little nipples, twisting them between them until you cry out in pleasure, and all the while, my mouth would be marking your sweet flesh. Marking you as mine, so the next time you looked in the mirror, you would see my signature painted on your skin. When I’ve reached that perfect pussy, I would slip my fingers slowly inside of you, stretching your tight hole, and making you ride them hard and fast, like you do your toys. Right before you cum, I would make you stop, drop to your knees, force my thick, hard cock between those pretty lips, and thrust inside the warm heaven of your mouth, until I hit the back of your throat, and make you choke on my cock like the good girl you are. All the while, my fingers would be threaded in your hair, controlling your motion, and making sure you take all of me. How does that sound, beautiful?
I’m panting, my flesh overheating from his dirty words, and I’ve slipped my fingers inside of my panties, and am running them feverishly across my hard bundle of nerves. I’m so close to cumming, with the hedonistic dirty picture he painted with his words, that I don’t even attempt to st op myself. I thrust two fingers inside of my tight hole, and ride the wave of ecstasy crescendoing over me. A scream escapes me, filling my small apartment as I wheeze out of breath, my body tensing and my skin pricking, and exploding in a blinding blast of energy that has my eyes rolling backward, as I slump against my couch with all the overwhelming sensations. Oh my God, that was intense and glorious.
User: Strokemyshillelagh
Have I lost you, beautiful?
Fuck, fuck, fuck. If he can just do that to me through a screen, what can he do to me in person? Before I can stop myself, I take another huge gulp of alcohol, wipe my sticky fingers on my discarded shirt, and start typing.
User: Ladypoison
I’m still here, and you just made me cum.
I should be horrified that I’m admitting that, but instead, my skin hums with my recent orgasm, and my core is still feeling little aftershocks, as I strip out of my soaked panties. I’m feeling the buzz of all the whiskey, my inhibitions disappearing, kind of like my morals, and I’m utterly satisfied and at peace. This is exactly what I needed after such a shitty day, week, month, and even fucking year. He’s exactly what I need, my shadowed Irish man that wants to play with me.
User: Strokemyshillelagh
That’s my good girl. I wish I could have been there with you. I would have made you go again and again. Please reconsider allowing me to be part of that video with you. I promise you won’t regret it, and I will make you feel so good, álainn. I could wear a mask if you want, and blindfold you. I will make all your naughty dreams come true.
I don’t know if it’s the endorphins running through my system, if I’m more inebriated than I believe, or, better yet, if it’s all the rollercoaster of e motions and fear that has me wrapped up tightly. I just want to experience more of what I just did. To feel close to someone, to feel anything at all except loneliness, and a desperation to connect on a deeper level.
User: Ladypoison
Okay, but you might have to dress up as a sexy leprechaun, it’s a St. Patrick’s Day theme. The mask and blindfold intrigue me. I like that you’re kinky and naughty, Irish. I look forward to seeing if you can deliver on your words. I have big hopes you make me cum harder than I just made myself. Got to go, but I’ll be in touch with a date and location. Xoxo
I shut my laptop and lean back against my couch, completely spent, and with a naughty, satisfied grin on my face. Fuck, I may have just found my pot of gold at the end of the rainbow after all. Now I just have to make sure ‘hoodie guy’ doesn’t attack this one too. Something tells me that Irish can handle himself though.