7. Him
HIM
I’m past the point of believing in a God, but thank the fucking heavens that friend of hers left.
Not only was she a distraction, but she also interrupted our routine. My girl’s and I.
I could have watched Madelyn through the cameras I installed in her apartment decompressing after work, indulging in some alone time with her hand, or maybe looking for that kinky journal of hers that’s in my possession.
Instead, I had to sit through a whole-ass conversation with her coworker, who’s desperate for some dick that clearly has no interest in her.
I had to test my patience tonight. She made it easy for me to get what I want, but I held it in. She fell right into her bed after the little wine she had and a bit of a stepsibling quarrel.
I never liked him.
And I’m saddened to have to accept that I can’t lay my hands on him and risk myself. Not if I want to keep Maddy. She wouldn’t forgive me. A warning will have to do.
But if any other man dares get near her, I’m game. Give me a knife, and I’ll become a butcher for her, make her a sanctuary of bones.
She’s so peaceful in her sleep. With her long hair falling on her face, and those tight little pink pajamas. She might pass as innocent, but her mind is dark and dirty. Just like mine.
I swap my usual routine of watching her sleep and rubbing one out in front of her to secure a good night’s sleep, to staying up reading her kinky diary until I can’t keep my eyes open anymore. Some of the things she wrote are short and simple, while others go into full detail.
Dear diary,
I want to be taken by surprise. Yes, ‘taken’ as in fucked senseless.
Played with. Chased by a hot masked man who won’t let go until he makes me his.
That’s it. That’s the fantasy.
God, I’m reading too much.
Dear diary,
This is kind of random. But I’m busy and horny at the same time, and I have to get this out of my mind.
Imagine this: You’re rushing through the halls during a busy day at work, and you’re suddenly being pulled aside.
No time to think or react. You’re pinned against a wall.
He’s molding his body against you, and you can’t move.
His hand goes under your skirt, and he finds you wet.
So, he starts rubbing. Swirling sweet circles around your clit, and surprises you by pushing a finger in.
It’s a quiet corner of the building. But people still pass by you, unaware of what’s going on, because he’s fully blocking you with his body.
While you try to hold back your moans, he whispers, ‘Let them hear you, baby. Scream for me. Or I won’t let you come.’
Dear diary,
I’ve always wanted to engage in indecent behavior in the library.
I’m not saying it should be with others around—it can be after hours, too.
Make it sweet and intimate.
Think about it…books and sex? That’s an excellent combination in my eyes.
Imagine sitting down in the library, between the shelves, on the floor, reading a book, relaxing.
And he sits by you, spreading your legs open. His face goes underneath your skirt, and he eats while you read.
I bet those spicy scenes in the books would hit different.
Dear diary,
Being fucked in a pool is my newest fantasy. I watched a steamy movie the other day, and there was some heavy making out in the pool scene, and now I can’t stop thinking about it.
Dim lights, a quiet night. Warm enough with just a light breeze hugging your shoulders.
You’re standing by the edge of the pool with your back to him.
He swims to you and wraps his arms around you.
Trailing kisses down your neck, while his hand pulls down your swimsuit panties.
Then, he rubs himself on your ass and pussy for a bit, teasing you, before he enters you from behind.
Ramming into you as you hold onto the tiles for support.
His hand on your neck all along, squeezing.
God, I love how versatile she is. There are no limits to my girl’s fantasies. From innocent to fucked up. I eat it up like candy.
I think she knows I’m watching. Because in some pages, she leaves little notes in the margins with tips on how to make these fantasies of hers a reality. How they would make her feel, and if there are any specifics she’d like.
I grab a red pen and make some notes of my own over said margins, too, and smile.
Doing it feels like a back-and-forth conversation between us. Exchanging secret messages.
It’s like she wanted me to find this diary, like she made it for me. And I’m not one to step back from a challenge, can’t refuse the chance.
As I keep reading, I highlight my favorite ones. I’m making a plan.
I fall asleep with a hard-on that has to wait until the morning to be resolved.
And I do. I’m awake with her alarm clock, watching as she slips into the shower, water gliding down her body, reaching her nipples, and dripping all the way to her sweet cunt.
I imagine myself acting out her darkest desires and come harder than ever. Watching her clean herself while I wrap my hands around that little neck of hers and pound at her from behind. Fantasy number ten on her list. A little fun in the shower.
After that, I’m more awake than ever, and I switch to the spy camera app on my phone, keeping an eye on my girl as she prepares for work.
Maddy is more composed than I imagined. She’s a good actress. No matter how freaked out she might be about this important part of her life being missing, there’s no mention of her diary. She doesn’t ask me or anyone about it.
Which is okay with me, because the fact that she doesn’t say a word means she’s ashamed of it. That it’s her dirty little secret, and I’m the proud owner of it now. It’s our dirty little secret.
I watch her leave for work, her usual morning walk commute, and follow from a distance. Once I make sure she’s gotten there safely, I stay in my car and focus on what I need to do before heading to work myself.
After browsing through some websites, I find out there are no same-day delivery orders, but there is a physical store with what I’m looking for. Staring at my watch after a whole hour of surfing the internet, I realize I don’t have nearly enough time to visit in-person to pick up what I need.
I scroll to the bottom of the website, and there it is—the store’s phone number.
The item appears available. But once I dial, they don’t pick up.
I slam my hand on the steering wheel.
Dammit.
I go to the contact page and check out the store hours. It opens at ten, and it’s only eight. Of course, they wouldn’t answer right now. God forbid people get kinky before breakfast.
I type the address on my GPS and find out it’s only a fifteen-minute drive from my workplace.
I’ll pay a visit to them during my lunch break. It’s the least I can do for my woman.
She deserves nothing but the best, my girl.
And I’ll make sure I satisfy every single sick fantasy of hers.