2. Parker
2
PARKER
I’m being followed. I can feel it.
Eleven years working as a Mafia hitman heightened my senses and ability to flush out a threat. The sound of a footstep, a shadow, just a flicker in the corner of your eye can mean life or death in my old line of work, and even if I’ve fought with everything I have to become a new man, those instincts don’t just go away. In the last six days, I’ve felt them all, but I still haven’t managed to discover who’s tailing me.
That means they’re good. Maybe it’s someone from the syndicate who tracked me down, thinking I’ll snitch to the Feds. Or maybe it’s someone looking for revenge because I killed someone close to them. Or maybe they’re not as good as I think. I’ve been insanely distracted these last few months. My mind’s been twisted up by my new, unyielding obsession.
Ali Greene. The girl who changed everything.
An eighteen-year-old college student studying psychology and early childhood development. Her divine beauty has been seared into my mind, haunting me every second she’s out of my sight.
I first saw her eighty-six days ago when she was coming out of Serene Sips, the local coffee shop. I was on break from my security guard job at a small hedge fund when she walked past, and it was like the world suddenly went into slow motion. She had an ochre yellow purse over one shoulder and a To-Go cup in her hand. And when my eyes locked on to her, a sensation so brutal and lascivious hit me that my hands clenched tight and my palms bled.
Right then, I knew I had to have her.
No other man will touch her. And if they try, the old me will come out. I’ll take them apart and bury them where no one will ever find them. After all, I am a killer. I’ve tried to build a new, normal life for myself here in the small town of Gatree, Iowa, and I was doing pretty well. Until I saw her.
Then everything changed.
Ali dug up emotions inside of me I was sure I’d entombed long ago.
I may have managed to put my serial-killer past behind me, but now I’m a stalker.
Her stalker.
I tried to keep my distance at first, stalking her from afar with my binoculars, watching her every night for months on end while stroking myself to completion, fouling my hands with my hot release. But it just wasn’t enough. So one night, I crept into her bedroom, just to make sure she hadn’t snuck a guy in there with her somehow.
As I stared at her lying there asleep, the need to take her was overwhelming.
Just do it , a terrible voice in my head urged.
What could she really do if when she woke up, I was stuffing my swollen cock into her tiny little virgin cunt, my hand over her mouth to stifle her screams? Absolutely nothing. I could overpower her without using even half my strength.
I may be a stalker and an ex-hitman, but even I know that would be wrong.
I worship Ali. Cherish her. I can’t just take her because I can. Even if she would love every second of it. Christ, I’d fuck her so hard she wouldn’t even be able to protest because she’d be too busy coming over and over.
What I need to do is remove myself from her life completely.
All I’m going to do is ruin her. Sully her innocence.
I’m a murderer. She’s an innocent little college girl. I’m twenty-nine. She’s eighteen. We’re oil and water. I’ve seen too much life, she’s seen too little. I’ve never had an issue getting girls–not that I ever wanted to keep any of them for more than a few fucks. Ali, on the other hand, is pure. A virgin. Don’t ask me how I know. I just do.
I’d go overboard protecting her. Keeping her all to myself. I already lose my mind when I catch a guy at her school checking her out. If she actually belonged to me, I would only get worse.
But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t stop fantasizing about her being mine. Even now, as I sit in my guard’s chair by the firm’s front door, my cock is painfully hard, pressing against the fly of my pants. I wear two pairs of compression briefs now that work requires a suit. My multiple daily hard-ons were too obvious through the thin fabric.
I’m staring at my favorite photo of her, one of the thousands filling up my phone’s storage. It’s Ali at school, laughing adorably with a friend, wearing bright blue shorts, a white oversized T-shirt, and some tan Birkenstocks. The way she’s standing, with her hips arched and her plump little ass sticking back right at me, never fails to get me hard. The shorts hide nothing, and when I zoom in, I can make out the v-lines of her thong.
Whenever I used to look at this photo, my sick mind would go into overdrive, flooding my psyche with a deluge of sick questions a sane man would never think. What does her pussy look like? Is it bare? Wet? What shade of pink is it? Those thoughts, and countless others, would infest my brain every time I zoomed in on this angle of her ass.
And then last night, those questions were finally answered.
Ali was sleeping on her back for the first time when I snuck into her room and pulled the sheets back. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw her completely naked, her tits more perfect than I could ever have imagined. Her pussy was perfect and bare, a tiny slit gleaming with wetness. My mouth was instantly watering. I was two seconds from jumping on her. The only way I could restrain myself was by putting the covers back and escaping out her window immediately.
It was a close one.
And she doesn’t even have a clue.
“Hey there, Parker!” I realize I’ve completely spaced out while staring at the photo of Ali and quickly lock my phone and look up to see Janice, the blonde who works the front desk, smiling at me. She’s wearing another low-cut top today and heels. She’s pushing the limits of professional dress, if you ask me. But the other guys who work here don’t seem to care.
“Oh, hey. What’s up?”
“Same ol’.” She shrugs. “You know everyone’s gone, right? Bosses left fifteen minutes ago.”
I glance at the time and realize she’s right. I was so focused on Ali’s photo that I completely missed all the traders from upstairs leaving the building. Some security guard I’m turning out to be. I keep this up and I’m gonna get fired.
“Look at that,” I reply. “Guess I should get going.”
Before I can head out, Janice grabs me by the wrist and oddly strokes my forearm like she’s petting a cat. “Doing anything tonight? I could sure use a drink. Anything to keep me from going back to that empty apartment, you know?”
This isn’t the first time Janice has hit on me. I’ve done my best to make it clear that I’m not interested, but she’s either not gotten the hint yet or she’s just insanely persistent. Neither would surprise me.
“I can’t,” I reply. “Thanks for the invite, though.”
Before she has a chance to respond, I gently tug my arm free and step out the front door, shaking off the ick I get every time she comes on to me.
I exit the building and head up the block toward my car. And that’s when I feel it again. The unmistakable sensation that I’ve felt for the last six days. The chill up my spine. The hairs on the back of my neck standing up. The unshakeable feeling that I’m being followed.
My hand instantly goes to the Glock on my hip, and I whirl around, ready for anything. An old woman just about faints and lets out a yelp like a dying penguin as she braces herself against a tree. “What’s the matter with you!?” she screams. “You trying to kill me?”
“Sorry, ma’am,” I reply, taking my hand from my holster. “I thought you were…I’m sorry.”
She continues to curse me out under her breath as I scan the block, searching for threats. But just like the last six days, I see nothing. Am I just losing my mind? Maybe all this time I’ve spent not sleeping and watching Ali is taking its toll on me.
I’ve got a wicked headache as I walk back up to my car, but just as I’m reaching for my keys, I’m stopped dead in my tracks. My body simply stops responding as a familiar scent wafts into my nostrils. Almond cherry. The shampoo Ali uses. But it’s not just that. There’s something beneath. Deeper. Call it her essence, call it pheromones, call it whatever you want. But beneath that manmade scent, I smell Ali. The realization crashes down on me.
Ali is the one who’s been following me.
The girl I’ve been stalking is stalking me.
My heart goes into overdrive, slamming ferocious beats into my ribs like it’s trying to pound its way out of my chest. My limbs go hot and cold at the same time as I manage a deep inhale that fills my lungs with the wonderful aroma. I wipe the sweat from my face with a sleeve and try to ignore the pain of my massive erection trying to burst through my pants. I scan the area again but see nothing. It doesn’t matter, though. She can’t hide from my nose.
Ali’s jaw nearly falls off when I step into the alley and find her there, holding her phone, obviously ready to snap pictures or record video. I see the fear in her eyes as I advance on her.
“It’s not a good idea to follow around big, strong, strange men,” I say.
Her irises are blindingly beautiful. Bold and green, like tall wet grass in the golden sun. She takes a single step back but stops herself, then cocks her head to the side in a look of defiance.
“It’s not a good idea to threaten women either,” she counters. This is the first time I’ve heard her voice up close. Despite the sass, it’s like a massage from a master. “Unless you want to end up in prison.”
“Prison? Been there. Won’t be going back.”
I may be wrong, but I’m sure I see a spark of interest in her face to my reply.
“What were you in prison for?”
I shake my head. “You don’t wanna know.”
“Unpaid parking tickets?” she teases. “Breaking and entering?”
I stiffen. Now why would she ask me that? Is it possible she knows I’ve been sneaking into her apartment? Has she just been pretending to be asleep this whole time?
No. Not my Ali. Not my innocent Ali.
“Yup. Breaking and entering. You caught me.” I’m lying, and she knows it.
“So you’re a thief?” A question and accusation simultaneously.
She’s wearing black yoga pants and a baggy black sweater. I guess she figured she’d be less noticeable, but she’s still unbearably sexy.
“No. I’m not a thief.”
“Well, why would you break into someone’s place then?” She’s messing with me. We haven’t even exchanged names for formality’s sake. It’s a game of cat-and-mouse, and she’s trying to get something out of me. Or tell me something without saying it.
“It’s complicated,” I reply.
“Was it like…a sex thing?”
Her question jolts me. Did she really just ask me that? Ali? My na?ve, virgin Ali?
“What do you mean?”
She shrugs and brushes her hair out of her face. “Just something I heard once. Girls with a kink where they get their man to ‘break in’ at night and have sex with them while they pretend to be asleep.”
I can barely contain myself. Is she saying what I think she’s saying?
It seems there is more to my Ali than I knew.
“I hadn’t heard of that,” I reply, my voice low.
She nods, tossing her hands up. “People like what they like, right?”
All I can do is slowly nod. Last night, when I found Ali on her back, wearing no clothes whatsoever, it took every ounce of strength I have not to bury my cock between her legs. I stopped myself because I was trying to do the right thing. Be a moral man for once. But is she quietly telling me she wanted me to do that?
“And we should never kink shame anyone either, right?” she asks, eyeing me like a coy kitten.
“Of course not.”
Her dazzling green eyes catch the glint of the setting sun. It’s as though she’s glowing from within. I want to snatch her up, bend her over the dumpster, and fuck her until her brain no longer works. Again, I clench my fists hard, feeling the skin break on my right palm.
“Well.” She smiles. “I should go. Going to bed early tonight. See you.”
My eyes close, and a storm rages in my chest as she passes and I get another lungful of her scent. God help me. If Ali was saying what I think she was saying, tonight is going to be the greatest night of my life. A night neither of us will ever forget.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “See you.”