Chapter 3 Stone
THREE
STONE
“Get the fuck out of here.”
Grabbing Hunter by the collar, I drag him to the door and push him past the threshold.
He stumbles out into the hallway and picks himself up before stomping away.
“Dude, what the hell was that?” Jace asks as he comes up behind me.
“Nothing. Guy’s a prick.”
He nods, “Right. It has nothing to do with him being Vanna’s ex.”
“Can’t two things be true?”
“Sure. Oh, Bronx wanted to talk to you. Something about scheduling a session next week?”
“I’ll call him.”
“He’s right over-”
I push past Jace and head straight for my room. Despite my normally high tolerance for social gatherings, I’ve just about spent every ounce of energy I had on that jackoff.
Locking myself inside, I plop onto my bed. I have some heavy research to conduct now that I have a newly born obsession. I dig my phone out of my pocket and search for Vanna Taylor. First thing that pops up are her socials, then her old student accounts while she was at college.
I open her Instagram page and notice it’s private. There’s a fair chance she won’t accept my follow, but it doesn’t stop me from sending a request anyway.
Seconds go by, then minutes, without her accepting.
It’s then I realize that I can just log into my business account. Searching the friends list, I find her and click on her profile again. Her page is aesthetically filled with mono filtered pictures of plants and various woodsy or lake destinations. In each one, she’s not looking at the camera.
Yet, I scroll through each and every post. By the time I reach the bottom, I’ve already taken note of all her favorite places.
How her shoulders are lax when she’s surrounded by nature.
The way she blends in with scenery despite the harsh colors of her clothes.
She was made for each and every one of these destinations.
Other than that, Instagram and Google don’t give me what I’m really looking for.
I find that she likes to travel and hike and wear a lot of black, but what I don’t know is when her birthday is.
Her guilty pleasures. Her go-to favorite food.
Her next planned vacation. If she’s flirting with any other guys.
What makes her heart beat faster. If she’s been to the doctor recently.
So, I scour the dark web for anything I can find under her name. I realize my curiosities are borderline psychotic. Yet, it doesn’t stop the way I skim over the notes from her last OBGYN appointment. Clean, no pregnancies, on the pill.
Twenty-six years old.
Date of birth May 27, 1999.
Five foot five.
One-hundred-and-fifty pounds.
Jesus... What was I doing?
Mother’s name is Clarice Taylor, 45 years old, unmarried. No known father.
But it’s this next bit of information I find that’s discomforting, especially since it’s out there on the dark web for any asshole to find.
Vanna spent six years from eight to fourteen in system, bouncing around from foster home to foster home until they finally placed her back with her mom. It looks like Clarice had a bit of a drug and man problem.
That’s something to look further into...
By the time, I’ve memorized her address, phone number, and her doctor’s office, it’s well past four in the morning. The house has finally quieted, and my eyes are burning with exhaustion.
If Vanna Taylor thinks she’s never going to see me again, she’s going to be very disappointed.
The following day, I don’t wake until noon. The distant noise of cups clanking together reach just through my door enough to pull myself out of bed.
In the living room, Jace is freshly showered and dressed, tossing garbage into a giant black bag.
With heavy eyes and a desperate need for coffee, I begin to stack the red solo cups along the counter of the kitchen as I power up the Keurig.
“Wanna talk-”
“Nope.” My voice comes out raspy as it always does in the morning.
“Okay, well, Daph and I are getting lunch in an hour if you want to join.”
“Is her friend going to be there?”
“I can ask.”
I nod, “I’ll go if she goes.”
Jace chuckles, “What? I’m not good enough for you anymore?”
Tossing him a glare, I take my first sip of coffee. The warmth immediately heats my insides like a trail of fire, waking me up.
When we finish cleaning, I shower and toss a ripped white tee on along with fitting black jeans. I let my blond hair naturally dry in its tousled state, and I slip on a few silver metal rings.
Meeting Jace by the door, I give him a questioning look.
“It took some convincing, but she’ll be there.”
A grin finds its way on my face, and I don’t bother to fight it. “Good.”
“I’m guessing you guys hit it off?”
I follow him out of the condo and wait as he locks it behind us before we make our way down the hall and outside.
“Eh.”
“What does that mean?”
“Means we kind of hit it off.” I shrug.
Jace rubs the stubble along his chin and shakes his head. By the way he fidgets with the stud in his nose, I can tell he’s holding something back. Most likely another lecture that he knows will go unheard.
“Daph and I were really hoping you guys would. I think it would be fun, the four of us. You know?” He shrugs.
He’s trying to be supportive because he knows how my obsessions go. Once they start, there’s nothing that can sway me otherwise.
“Yeah.” Only, I’m not so concerned with the four of us, only Vanna.
We walk the few blocks to Callah’s Bar, meeting the girls just outside the place. The blond squeals in delight and throws herself at Jace while Vanna slowly brings her eyes up to meet mine. Instantly, they narrow into a glower.
“Hey.”
“What are you doing here?” She growls as I walk up to her.
She’s even cuter than I remembered from last night. Now in black ripped jean shorts and a tank top to match. In all the pictures I found of her last night, I didn’t see a single one with her wearing color, but black suits her.
“Jace invited me.” I jab my thumb behind my shoulder.
We both look over to the couple, and Daphne’s mouth falls into a grimace.
“Oops, I forgot to tell you. Stone is coming.”
“I see that.” She groans.
Daph gives an apologetic shrug and leads us inside, except Vanna doesn’t follow.
“Oh, come on! You said you were starving.” Her friend grabs her wrist, but she gently disentangles herself.
“I just need a second. You guys go.”
She narrows her eyes, “You better not ditch us. I know where you live.”
Vanna chuckles and waves her off, staying outside for a moment. So, that’s what I do too.
Her greenish brown eyes snap to me the moment I lean against the bar’s wall beside her.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Chilling. You?”
“Ugh! What didn’t you get when I said I don’t want to see you again?”
Twisting one of the rings on my finger, I pinch my lips.
“I’m sorry for upsetting you last night. Maybe we can just start over?”
She studies me for a moment, then sighs. “Whatever. Let’s go.”
Feeling like I just won the lottery, I happily follow her into the bar and sit next to her when we find our table. We’re met with smiles from our friends, and I damn near want to high five them for this victory.
Vanna and I sit, listening to Jace and Daphne recall the moment they met before we place our orders. I listen carefully, banking Vanna’s drink of choice and meal.
Vodka soda with lime and a medium rare black and blue burger.
I order the same thing, despite my preference for tequila.
When the drinks arrive, the love story is still spewing on. It’s boring to be honest. Mostly because I was there and saw it happen, but also because it’s nothing exciting. Just a man and a woman locking eyes at a coffee shop one morning.
Our story will be so much more than that. It already is.
I inch my hand beside me and grip Vanna’s bare thigh. She flinches and quickly tries to push it away, but I only tighten my hold. The last thing she wants is another scene, so her efforts are weak.
With her hand on top of mine, desperate to pry my fingers off, I crawl upwards toward the hem of her shorts. Her fight becomes stronger, and I can feel her panic. It excites me, awakens me, and damn near makes me cum in my pants.
Then I feel something beneath her shorts along her upper thigh. She winces as I press down dragging a finger along it. It feels like a cut. When I finally turn my head to look at her, she refuses to meet my eyes. Her cheeks are pink as though she’s embarrassed, but her nostrils are flared.
I press again and she squeezes her eyes shut. Before I can withdraw my hand, she spills her drink all over the table and herself. She shoots back in her chair and jumps up, gasping.
“Dammit!” She curses, tossing her napkins on the table to soak up the mess. “I’ll be right back.”
She doesn’t bother making eye contact with me before she’s storming away toward the bathroom. When I look down, I notice blood on my fingers.
“I’ll go see if she needs help.” Daphne begins to push herself from the table, but I stand instead.
“I got it.”
Shoving the woman’s bathroom door open, I notice it’s empty apart from her. So, I lock us in and stare her down.
“What the fuck are you doing in here? Get out!”
I don’t bother with words, instead I stalk forward and kneel at her feet. Slowly, I lift the hem of her shorts on the right side. She slaps my hand away, but the firm grip on her wrist is threat enough to ease her fight.
Beneath the fabric, is a straight horizontal wound that’s beginning to pebble with blood.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know? What does it matter?”
“This wasn’t here last night.”
Her mouth pops open, then shuts, then opens again.
“Vanna.”
“It’s nothing.” She whispers, staring down at me with glassy eyes.
The scars littering her skin beneath the wound tells me otherwise.
“Do you like to hurt, Darkness?” I ask her, genuinely curious.
She’s silent.
So, I lower my mouth to the inside of her thigh and sink my teeth into the flesh there. She yelps, tugging my hair until she’s nearly ripping it from my head.
“Fuck! Stone! Stop!”
Last night, I gave her a safe word, and she hasn’t said it yet, so I dig my canines in even farther.
She whimpers, tears now tumbling past her lower lashes, and her head is thrown back. I suck, then finally unclench my jaw, detaching from her.
Blood trickles down her inner thigh now, but this time because of me. This newly created wound is angry and swollen. The red a splash of color against her olive toned skin.
“Do it again and I can promise a punishment much worse than that.”
She doesn’t bother to wipe the tears marring her cheeks.
“And what if I liked it?”
I stand, backing her into the wall, “Then go ahead and see what happens next. I dare you.”
She swallows nervously before shoving past me and out the door, back to the table.
When we return, the food is already there and while we eat, I can’t seem to take my mind off what she’s done to herself. What I did to her. It was impulsive and insane, but she didn’t stop me. Why didn’t she stop me?
I leave with those thoughts swelling like a brewing storm.