Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
I inhale deeply, pulling the strawberry scent of her hair into my lungs.
With her ponytail clenched in my hand, I pull, tipping her head back toward me.
My teeth sink into the sensitive spot below her ear, forcing a whimper from her lips.
It’s the sweetest fucking sound. I know exactly what I need to do to hear more of it.
I press my hips against her perky ass. She pushes back to meet me, rubbing herself against my cock.
As my fingers curl around her throat, she moans and her hips pick up speed.
I press my lips against her ear. “Tell me what you want, little bird.”
Her voice is strained under the pressure of my fingers clenching around her neck. “Please. I want—”
My phone vibrates against the bedside table, pulling her away from me. I pinch my eyes closed, hoping for another glimpse of her, but the buzzing continues. My hand slaps down onto the phone, causing it to bounce up, but silences it. The screen is lit up with Shawn’s name sprawled across it.
“This better be good,” I grumble into the speaker.
“I’m just following your orders, boss.” His voice drips with sarcasm as he throws extra emphasis on the last word.
“Alright, so spit it out. Why are you calling me at…” I glance toward the clock. “Nine in the morning?”
“I got an alert of a police call at Ava Moore’s house.”
My mouth pulls up into a smirk. How sweet.
My delicate, little bird is begging for someone to save her from the big, bad wolf.
Truthfully, I’m impressed that she’s trying to protect herself.
She seems so meek and quiet that I was half expecting her not to.
I’m glad she is; it’s much more fun this way.
I wonder how long she’ll keep this fight up.
She’ll learn soon that the cops can’t protect her from me.
“So…should we maybe…do something about it?” Shawn questions anxiously.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered,” I huff before hanging up the phone.
It’s standard practice for Shawn to set up alerts of police activity in the places I’ve been.
With this being recreational rather than work-related, he put up a bit of a fuss about it before giving in.
In the end, he knows better than to stand in my way when I’m determined.
He knows I’m not the kind of man you say no to if you want to keep all of your body parts intact.
I occupy my morning with research on my new obsession.
The file Shawn pulled together covers the basics.
It allows me to dig into her birth and medical records, family ties, real estate, and job history.
The first layers of her paper trail indicate a woman who’s decidedly normal, just a woman living an average life.
She got an English degree out of state before coming back to her hometown to work as a book editor.
But I dig deeper. I know there’s more to her than that.
She has almost no family to speak of, her mother is dead and her father doesn’t seem to be in the picture.
Medical records from her childhood are littered with emergency care visits for broken bones, contusions, and various accidents.
None of them were indicated as suspicious, just a very accident-prone child.
I comb through her social media, which is unsubstantial.
From what I can gather, she has a number of acquaintances, but doesn’t seem to have a lot of friends that she keeps in regular contact with.
Her posts are similarly unforthcoming, limited to a few memes about work and life.
She rarely posts photos of herself. The few she does post show a strikingly beautiful woman with a smile that never reaches her eyes.
By noon, I push myself away from my desk with renewed determination and head for the shower. I’ll figure out what makes my little bird’s eyes light up.
The shower knob is small in my hand as I twist it onto the hottest setting.
Within minutes, the room is engulfed in steam.
I swipe my palm across the mirror, wiping away the condensation before flicking the damp remnants into the sink.
The reflection that stares back at me is menacing.
I run my fingers through my thick, black hair, pushing it off of my face.
The rose tattoo that covers my throat stirs as I swallow hard, taking in the harsh lines of my face.
I wonder if my little bird will be afraid when she sees me.
As I step into the scalding water, the thought of her frightened eyes makes my chest tighten and blood rush to my cock.
Standing under the hot stream, my mind replays the unforgettable sight of her full lips falling open while her pussy clenched around her fingers.
The way my body responded to her needy moans was undeniable.
I wrap my fingers around my shaft, gripping tightly as I envision those lips wrapped around me.
I see the fear in her eyes as she chokes on me, unable to breathe.
Her tears fall onto my cock as she gags and tries to pull away.
I imagine holding her in place by her hair as I stroke my length.
I slam my hand against the tile wall to steady myself as my pace increases. My hips buck into my hand as I imagine rubbing myself against her slick, pink tongue. I erupt, spurting cum onto the tiles as she rubs her clit beneath me, staring up at me, begging for her own release.
Clearly, Ava is quickly becoming more than just an interest; she’s becoming my obsession.
I dress quickly, my excitement building.
To blend in with the shadows that lurk around her house in the evening, I pull on a pair of black jeans and a t-shirt.
My face is hidden under a black hoodie. Coupled with my leather jacket, it provides enough warmth for the autumn air.
* * *
The drive to her house is maddening; every traffic light and stop sign prolonging the time before I’m in her space, enveloping myself in her sweet scent.
My fingers drum impatiently against the steering wheel.
I feel like I’m in that Salvador Dali painting where the clocks are melting.
The minutes dripping like a viscous liquid at a painfully slow speed.
Drip, drip, drip.
As I leave the city behind and drive along the quiet, country roads, I feel the tension in my shoulders begin to ease.
The tight knots in my neck unwind and settle when I pull my car into the clearing at the edge of the woods by her home.
Her car isn’t in the driveway, leaving me free to walk straight to her door unnoticed.
Knowing she isn't home, I take my time. Stepping slowly into the kitchen, I breathe in the smell that is uniquely hers. My eyes wander around the room, becoming familiar with her belongings. Quaint, hideous, multicolored coffee mugs dangle on hooks above a run-of-the-mill Mr. Coffee machine.
Oven mitts made to look like cows flop over the edge of the stove, staring at me with beady, plastic eyes. I brush my hand over them as I walk by, eliciting a light jingle from their tiny bell collars. My lips pull up in a small smile. My little bird certainly has a sense of humor.
I pull open the pantry cabinet, finding that it contains more tea than food, but showcases her love of all things instant. My nose wrinkles as I run my hand over no less than five boxes of macaroni and cheese. I'm going to need to feed her better; she eats like a four-year-old.
In the corner sits a small wood table, barely large enough for two people to share. I drop a black envelope on it. She'll find my message when she returns home later, a warning against calling the authorities again.
I'm not a patient man, but I'm not entirely unreasonable, either. I need her to understand that her actions have consequences. I'm fairly certain she won't heed my warning the first time. In time, she'll learn that I don't make idle threats.
She needs to understand that the police can't help her.
She needs to know, without a doubt, that no one can take her from me.
When she accepts that she's mine, she won't want them to.
She'll come to understand that I'm the only one who can protect her.
She'll need that protection if I pull her into my life.
A good man wouldn't do that to her. A good man would leave her alone to go back to her safe, boring life.
But I've never claimed to be a good man. I'm a fucking monster.
I leave the kitchen and make my way through the house.
Moving slowly through each room, I explore her home.
In her office, my fingers wander lazily over the knick-knacks on her desk and bookshelves, as if my hands have the means to interpret the story behind them.
I press my finger against a key on her laptop, springing it to life.
My eyes roll when the screen unlocks instantly.
My little bird is so sure of her privacy.
I don’t linger on the contents of her seemingly work-related laptop; I have much more important things to dig into while I’m here.
The steps creak beneath me as I climb the stairs to the second floor.
My smile widens as I push open the door to her bedroom.
As I stare at her unmade bed, images flood my mind.
I think of her warm, brown hair splayed across the pillow, small strands streaking over her sleeping face.
Her naked body barely hidden beneath her bed sheets where her pebbled nipples peek through the thin fabric.
I push my jacket off of my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor before kicking off my boots. I let gravity take hold of me, my body falling onto her bed. My body twists and turns, the sheets cocooning around me, enveloping me in her scent and replacing it with my own.