Chapter 5 Pip
FIVE
PIP
Three lattes, two granola bars, and an entire Spotify list later, and I’m still on the same paragraph ten times over. PTO study days are always full of distractions. Having my own personal stalker on the loose isn’t helping.
The boxed red rose on my doorstep was one clue. The card that came with it? Even more so.
I catch you; I bone you.
After a few days of radio silence from my hunter, they chose to assert their knowledge that they not only knew where I lived, but also my occupation with a comical card illustrated with two skeletons in a raunchy embrace.
It would seem they’ve been busy.
It might’ve been funny, the breach of privacy overlooked, if there hadn’t also been a cat collar with a bell left on my kitchen counter to find with a singular small cube of cheese, assuring me, with a warped sense of humor, they’re also pretty savvy at breaking in and entering!
I decided after that my local cafe might be more conducive to studying. I’m on my eleventh attempt to read a paragraph of my diagnostic radiology textbook when I receive a text on my phone.
Unknown:
Good Morning, gorgeous.
You look beautiful today x
And they now have my phone number, too?
My breath immediately hitches. I whip my head up and scan the cafe.
From the rear booth where I’m sitting, I have a good vantage point overlooking the café, but no one strikes me as suspicious. A couple of teens hanging out, some women catching up, a couple groups of tourists doing brunch. Is this a joke?
Across the room, a middle-aged man smiles politely when our eyes meet. I return my focus to my textbook, willing it to open a swirling vortex into the text and suck me into a dark void.
My stomach knots. Please, not him.
Unknown:
It’s not him
I scoff and roll my eyes. They’re in my head now, too?
I know I chose this, but I never anticipated being stalked—actually being stalked—could be such a mind fuck. And the worst part?
It’s working.
I hesitate before typing.
Me:
Are you enjoying this?
Unknown:
Immensely.
A thrill runs through me—sharp, electric, wrong.
Me:
Was the cat collar and bell necessary?
Unknown:
Yes.
Were the red lace panties necessary?
My stomach drops. A new message arrives—a photo.
Me. In bed. Face down, ass up, the red lace barely covering me.
I stop breathing. Heat crawls up my neck. “Motherfucker,” I mumble aloud. The lady at the next table shoots me with a daggered glare. “Sorry,” I whisper as I bury my head in my hand, mortified.
Unknown:
Does my little pipsqueak need another latte?
Decaf perhaps? You look a little on edge.
I look around the café again. The idea of being watched is such a thrill.
My heart is racing, my breaths short and shaky.
I can feel my panties stick to me as they begin to gather my arousal.
Licking my lips, I suck in my bottom lip, biting it as I press my thighs together trying, yet again to focus on my textbook.
Unknown:
The things I want to do to those lips.
Lick them again.
I smile. Teasing. And do as I’m commanded.
I take a sip of my latte, slowly licking my lips savoring the flavor as I place the mug back down. Running my finger around the rim, I gather some froth onto my digit and place it directly onto my tongue, closing my lips around it to suck my finger clean with a satisfying pop.
Unknown:
Such a good girl.
Does this excite you?
Show me.
Reach down and touch yourself.
Without a thought, my hand begins to travel under the table. My attention is abruptly jolted back to the present with the loud crash from a plate falling and shattering nearby. I whip my head around, realizing exactly where I am and what I was about to do.
God dammit. Nope. No. This is not working! I slam my laptop and textbook closed and collect my notes, shoving them all into my backpack. I approached the counter to pay only to be refused - payment had already been made.
When? How the hell did I miss that?
I walk fast, turning down the waterfront path, the cold breeze barely touching the heat still crawling under my skin.
Everyone I pass is a suspect. Is it that guy leaning on a wall? Or that woman eyeing me as she jumps into a cab?
I hoped when I signed up that my hunter would be Grayson. I needed it to be Grayson.
The thought of him catching me and doing sinful things to me.
Fucking the last thread of intelligence right out of me.
The mental image of my body intertwined with his makes my mouth water.
He’s the embodiment of a tranquil oasis in a hot desert.
My unhinged thirst begs to be satiated by the life giving gift only his kind of water can provide.
What would he feel like in real life? What would his mouth taste like against mine? Would he be rough? Gentle? An exhilarating mix of both?
Would I be scared? Should I be?
Or am I just delusional?
What if Grayson turned out to be a depraved psychopath concealing a darker side I’m yet to meet? And why, for the love of all things green on this fucking Earth, do I want to meet it?
Jesus fucking Christ, what if it’s not him at all?
I feel so conflicted. I should be angry. I should feel violated. I have been stripped of control.
Instead, I feel hunted.
And worse?
I’m excited.
I want to be caught.