Chapter Four
Skye
My shoulders twitch. Three times on the way here, I spun around, certain I heard footsteps behind mine. But each time, the sidewalk was empty except for a few scattered students, none following me. Yet the feeling hasn’t left. I reach for the handle, my palm damp against the cold metal.
The gifts started last week—a single rose on my pillow, a note slipped under my door. Last night I swore when I was getting changed there was a shadow standing across the road under a tree, but when I walked closer to check, it was gone.
I open the door to the study room, but I freeze when I see there is already someone inside, seated at the far end of the table, hoodie pulled up. “S—sorry,” I stammer. “I booked this room.”
He doesn’t answer; instead, he looks up slowly, his dark eyes meeting mine. Wait, is that Silas, the TA from my psych class?
“But if it’s okay, I’ll just . . . join you?” I motion toward the empty chair.
Unspeaking, he simply extends his hand toward the seat like he’s giving me permission to use the room I booked.
I blink. “Right . . . okay.”
I drop into the chair across from him and unzip my bag, pulling out my study notes. We sit in silence. He continues with whatever he is reading, and though I try to study, I keep glancing up to see if he is looking at me. I sense he is, yet every time I check, he is engrossed in his book.
The silence is interrupted by the door opening behind me. I turn to see who has walked in, and my pen freezes in my hand.
The guy filling the doorway has a presence that sucks all the air from a room.
My chair squeaks as I lean away, putting distance between us even though he is still by the entrance.
His stone-gray eyes sweep the room and finally land on me.
I blink and subtly peek over my shoulder, like maybe there’s someone else he is staring at with that predatory gaze. Nope, it’s definitely me.
“I didn’t realize we were having a slumber party,” he snipes.
I stare at him and frown. “I didn’t realize this room came with a bouncer.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite in a smile, but close enough to make my pulse skip. He strides past me, moving closer to Silas, who hasn’t shifted. He is still absorbed in his reading, eyes down and his lips pursed.
Mr. Dick takes a seat, throwing his booted feet onto the table and running a hand over his short dark-blonde hair. When his eyes meet mine, something in my jaw clenches tight, and I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something that might get me thrown out of the room.
We sit in silence and continue to work—well, Silas and I do.
I put off getting up, overthinking whether I need a certain book.
Eventually, I push back my chair, cringing when the legs scrape against the floor.
“I need a book.” I murmur an explanation neither Silas nor the other guy responds to before I slip out the door.
Heading to the stairwell, I jog upstairs to a nearly empty second floor. The overhead lights buzz faintly; their flickering sets the scene for a damn scary movie. I find the aisle lined with psych journals and trail my fingers along the spines as I walk its length.
Clink.
The sound echoes behind me—metal on metal. I freeze with my hand pressed to a book.
“Hello?”
Silence.
I shake my head and laugh under my breath. It’s my imagination. I exhale in relief, then I hear it again.
“Watch your back,” a robotic voice says.
As my hand pulls back in startlement, my fingers catch on the spine of the book. It slips from the shelf and thuds to the floor. My heart hammers against my chest.
The voice speaks again. “We’re coming for you.”
Cold chills shoot down my spine.
We’re . . . So, not only one.
My body hums with excitement. Maybe this is it—I’ll get to live out my fantasy. Then I can forget all about it and go back to the life chosen for me. As much as Harrison says he will support me no matter what I do, my mother has a different opinion and is a force to be reckoned with.
Footsteps approach, and I bolt back down the stairs, my shoes pounding against them. When I reach the study room, I shove the door open and burst inside, my chest heaving.
Both men look up in surprise at where I stand with my back pressed against the door. Silas raises a perfectly manicured brow at me, while the other man smirks.
“Do you always come back looking like you’ve just been fucked, or are we special?”
“Keep talking like that and I might think you want to be the one who fucks me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, cashmere. If I really wanted you, I would have you bent over this desk already. A girl like you wouldn’t survive someone like me.”
“Maybe a girl like me wouldn’t want to survive you.”
Fuck, why did I say that? I knew the asshole was taunting me, but his smug, ridiculously handsome face needed to be punched down a few pegs.
“Good, because I wouldn’t let you.”
His mouth curves up into a smile, and he thinks he’s won, but there’s really no point going back and forth with this idiot.
I return to my seat, and we go back to our silence. I can feel his eyes burning into me—the asshole is trying to goad me, but it won’t work. The door to the study room opens again, and I turn to see who else has come to invade my study time, hoping vainly it’s Macey.
“Oh hello, pumpkin,” motorbike guy says, closing the door.
I smile at him, then force myself to look back down at my notes. It should be illegal to be so good-looking. Someone like him simply has to look you in the eyes to suck you in, hypnotizing you. You’d be at his mercy—not that it would be a bad thing, but you would lose yourself.
I peek from under my lashes as he walks around the table, mentally swooning when he puts his finger under Silas’s chin, forcing his attention away from his book and up to him.
“You ready to go?” he asks, squatting down beside him.
At Silas’s nod, all three of them stand. I keep my eyes down, but the asshole stops beside me and twists some of my hair between his fingers.
“Bye, cashmere. I’d say it was nice to meet you, but lying’s not my thing.”
I slap his hand away and tilt my head to look at him. “Yeah, well, don’t let the door hit your ego on the way out.”
He smirks as he walks his big, muscled ass out the door.
Once they leave, I can no longer concentrate, so I pack my things and head out early.
The broken streetlight at the corner of Willow and Oak flickers, finally dying as I pass.
I clutch my bag tighter, walking just a little faster.
As much as I want a stalker in my fantasies, I really don’t want to be followed in real life.
My apartment building is still four blocks away. The sign for Connor’s Corner Store buzzes and hums, and my skin prickles as I look over my shoulder. I feel somebody’s presence, or maybe I’m convincing myself of something that isn’t there.
I keep going, trying to shake off the feeling.
But when I hear footsteps behind me, I don’t turn around; rather, I increase my pace even more.
Discreetly, I drag my bag around to my front and pull out the pepper spray Macey insisted I carry for moments like this.
I don’t understand how it will stop an attacker if they mean business, but possibly someone who is drunk and doesn’t see it coming.
I know if I wanted to attack someone, I would at the very least expect pepper spray.
As I dig through my bag, searching for my fucking keys, I notice that my footsteps have slowed and so have the ones following me. When I speed up again, toward a row of stores that have already closed for the day, they increase too.
My heart is beating frantically now that I know I am being followed. I’m itching with the need to look behind me—to see if it’s just some random person, or if it’s them. In the contract, it says they will wear something purple.
I stop, and the footsteps stop as well.
I take a deep breath and look over my shoulder.
A figure stands still, dressed all in black.
Their purple glow mask turns on.
“Hello, Skye. I hear you have been waiting for me.”
I stand, frozen. Anticipation has built up in my head, and now panic claws its way under my skin. I remind myself that I have a safe word, and if I decide to use it, the experience will end.
“If I were you, I would run.”
Shit, I forgot this was all role-play based.
I turn and run.
My shoes slip on the pavement as I sprint toward the storefronts ahead—Miller’s Hardware with its rusty old security grate, the bakery, and the thrift shop that’s been “Coming Soon” for over a year. My lungs burn as I hear his footsteps pounding behind me.
“You can run, but you can’t hide, Skye. I know where you live.”
I keep moving, then duck into an alley to catch my breath, realizing too late I should have joined the gym with Adrian when he asked. I wanted to keep the clear boundary of roommates and friends, but nothing more.
Squatting behind an old dumpster that thankfully must have been emptied recently, I take a breath. I’m small enough that I shouldn’t be visible to anyone walking past, even if I stand up.
But before I know what’s happening, the masked man is towering over me. He reaches out and grabs a handful of my messy bun, using it to yank me up. Then I am quickly spun around and pushed hard against the brick wall.
“You’re ours to watch, ours to chase, and ours to break apart piece by piece. Obsessions make men dangerous. Are you scared, Skye?”
“N—no,” I stutter unconvincingly, because this is what I want. If he were to slide his hand down my pants, he would feel how wet I am. Though I admit being in a dark alley with a stranger, pressed roughly against a brick wall, is a little scary.
“Well, you should be.”
He grips my hips, cages me in, and grinds his hard length against me. My hands push against the bricks, and I press back into him. When his hand slides down the front of my pants, I gasp, and his fingers find me wet, embarrassingly so.
“Dirty girl. Running only made you wetter, didn’t it?”
Heat fires through me. I want to deny it, but the proof on his fingers tells him everything he needs to know.
He shoves my pants down my thighs, one palm flat on my stomach as he frees himself with the other. There’s no warning, just the sharp stretch as he thrusts inside me in one hard stroke, and my cry as it echoes in the alley.
The bricks rub my cheek as he drives into me relentlessly. Every thrust pushes me harder against the wall, the rough texture biting into my skin.
“You feel that? That’s what you paid for.”
I can only moan in answer, my body falling apart under the sensations.
He pounds into me, his hand sliding up to wrap around my throat. He squeezes just hard enough that I explode, white spots dancing in my vision as my orgasm bursts through me at the speed of light, and my pussy clamps tight around his cock.
He comes with a grunt, shoving deeper, his hips pressed flush to mine. For a moment, he holds me, his chest pressed to my back, both of us panting. Then he pulls out and tucks himself away before he leans close. “We are always watching. Remember that.”
As he turns and walks away, I sag against the wall, pulling my pants back up with shaky hands. When I glance up, my stomach flips.
At the end of the alley, another masked figure is standing there, watching.
I right myself, smoothing down my clothes like that will make any difference, then turn and walk away. Again I hear the footsteps behind me, but I don’t bother running; something tells me it’s over for tonight.