15. Knox
KNOX
I’m still riding my high when I pull out of Anna, but unsurprisingly, the reality of what we just did comes crashing down on my little canary as she watches me roll off the condom.
Her stalker just fucked her, and there was nothing performative about it.
She didn’t fake her orgasm just to appease the psycho inside of her.
Her whole body responded to me, and the fact that her walls still clenched around me needily as I pulled out proves it.
She wants me just as badly as I want her.
She’s just too scared to admit it. Can’t say I blame her.
She’s never seen my face, she doesn’t know what I look like, and the only thing she really knows about me is that I’m stalking her.
But there’s no denying that there’s something here between us.
Chemistry like that isn’t something you can manufacture, and watching her fear meld into reckless abandon, feeling her body go pliant in my hands, seeing those tits bounce in response to every one of my thrusts was a thing of fucking beauty.
And don’t even get me started on what’s smeared all over us.
I’ve never had a kink for blood play, but this may very well change my mind.
Like most people, my only association with this amount is pain .
Anytime I witnessed someone being shanked, the very sight of blood triggered some sort of sensory response that sent an ache through my scars.
And the stuff all over me, all over us, it feels real.
But I couldn’t give any less of a fuck.
I run my hands over my neck and chest, where there’s a fair amount still dripping down, and I rub it all over her tits until I can’t even see the skin beneath.
Anna looks thoroughly freaked out, not to mention confused, but whether she’s aware of it or not, she arches into my touch as I take as much of her as I can into my hands.
Whenever I see blood from here on out, this is the image I want in my head.
The only thing that will accompany it is my arousal, knowing what it feels like to be inside of her.
Fuck, my only regret is the condom. I don’t want anything between us, but not only would my little canary be scared, I’m pretty sure she’d also be pissed.
“Can I have my key?” Her voice comes out hoarse, like she hasn’t had anything to drink in a week, but there’s a formality to it, like this was a fucking business transaction. And she won’t meet my eyes. Detached.
I want to tell her if that’s how she plans to handle this, I’ve got a method of my own.
One that involves turning her around, bending her over the table, and fucking her so hard she’ll go blind.
I can already picture fisting the back of her hair, imagining what it would be like for her bare ass to pound into me as I take her from behind.
I’m getting hard again just thinking about it.
She holds her hand out expectantly, and despite my impulses, I remove the car key from my back pocket, dangling it in front of my face. It forces her to look at me as she snatches it away. “How did you even know I’d be here?”
I grin. “I have my ways.”
God bless Georgia, because the microphone on the hidden camera works shockingly well, allowing me to catch snippets of the conversation she had with Darcy despite them talking in one of the bedrooms.
And let me tell you, hearing my canary sounding genuinely excited at the prospect of hooking up with some random asshole here had me simultaneously seeing red and turned way the fuck on, because I knew what this was about.
She wasn’t looking for a hookup because she had been left unsatisfied or unmoved by what we had.
It was because she was trying to purge me from her system, trying to replace the memory of me with any Tom, Dick, or Harry.
But that ain’t gonna happen.
Because no one’s ever touching her again. Hell, no one’s getting within arm’s reach.
Especially not the douchebag outside, which brings me to the true purpose of my visit.
“You’re being watched,” I say, more than a little disappointed to watch her cover her tits as she puts her bra back on despite the blood.
“No shit,” she mutters, glaring at me as she climbs off the table and recovers her shirt as well.
“I wasn’t referring to me, canary.”
This definitely takes her aback. “What are you talking about?”
I motion for her to follow me and head up the stairs to the wraparound balcony.
She hesitates but eventually joins me in front of the windows overlooking the parking lot.
Unlike the set in the back, these are blacked out with paint, but there’s enough of a gap at the bottom to see outside.
Pulling out the compact binoculars from my jacket, I hand them over and point toward the west side of the lot.
“You carry binoculars with you?” Her voice is too flat to sound remotely surprised, and why should she be?
I’m her stalker after all. Anna rolls her eyes and takes them from me, but any annoyance she has is replaced by something much worse.
Concern. The moment she spots it, the binoculars involuntarily lower from her eyes.
“Look familiar?” I ask, though it really isn’t a question.
She holds the binoculars back up to the window, as if it’s necessary, as if Officer Holt’s SUV is just some figment of her imagination she can wish away.
No such luck. She whirls on me, fear and anger making for a lethal combination.
“Why are the police following me? Do they really think I had something to do with the robbery?”
“Do they ? No. Officer Holt isn’t stalking you because of orders from the department.
He has another employer—one far more concerning.
And, for whatever reason, she’s taken an interest in you,” I say, tucking the binoculars back into my pocket.
“Speaking from personal experience, I can guarantee it’s a place you don’t want to be. ”
“But I’m being looked into because of you ? Because of the robbery?” Again, they’re not really questions.
“Yes and no. Or rather, no and yes.”
She narrows her eyes at me, looking like she might honestly try throat-punching me. “Who is ‘she’? And why the hell would you think it’s a good idea to follow me here when it’s clear I’m under surveillance? Are you trying to put a bigger target on my back?”
“Nobody’s aware of my presence,” I promise, circling a finger around my mask, “and she will be dealt with. I just need some time.”
“That’s not an answer.”
I can’t help but grin. “I’ve already seen what happens when you’re thrown a bone, my little canary. Investigating these matters will give the game away, and I’m not ready for that yet.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I need to know I can trust you.”
“You just fucked me—” A small squeak escapes her as I pin her against the glass.
“And trust is a two-way street, love,” I say, palming her breast. “Tit for tat. You’d sell me down the river the first chance you got.”
“I wonder why,” she growls, shoving my hand away.
Gotta appreciate the fact that she doesn’t bother to bullshit me with pretty lies.
“Since you entered the picture, I now have two stalkers on top of the bullshit I’m already dealing with.
How is Holt even following me? He obviously has a job, and I’ve been here most of the day. ”
“He’s not following you. He’s following your car . He hasn’t been to the festival these last two days because you didn’t drive here. Your roommate did.”
And now I can practically see the steam coming from her ears. “And how, pray tell, would you know that he’s tracking my car?”
“Because I found the GPS tracker he planted on the underside of it. And as far as I can tell, it’s not police issued.”
“And you didn’t get rid of it?”
“No, and I won’t. And neither will you.” The warning in my tone makes it clear I’m not fucking around. “You can’t let him know you’re on to him. I just thought I’d give you a heads up so you can be aware.”
She crosses her arms, unintentionally pushing her tits up higher. “Holt’s isn’t the only tracker on my car, is it?”
“No.” The fact that I’m unapologetic with my answer only has her breath heaving in her fury, and God help me, the effect it has on those tits makes me want to truly pin her against the glass and fuck her so hard that it breaks.
She must detect the shift in my attention, because she slides herself sideways against the window, trying to put space between us. “Which tracker is yours?”
I place both of my hands on the glass beside her hips, trapping her between my arms. “Now, why on earth would I tell you that when we’re having so much fun?”
“I’m not sure what women you’ve been spending time with, but most don’t find stalking to be a turn-on.”
“Good thing I found you then.”
She tries to object, but I cup her sex, stealing the words from her.
“We just did this, love. Do I really need to teach you again, and so soon?” I taunt.
She shakes her head, the movement short and jerky.
“But your pussy is weeping for me. And can you blame her?” I lower myself, pulling down the waistline of her skirt to plant kisses along her skin as I go to my knees. “She’s practically begging for attention.”
“And how would you know?” she hisses.
“Because I was under your bed the last time you touched yourself.” Again, the fact that I’m so unashamed only has her seething further, but watching what it does to her breasts from my view down here is hardly a disincentive.
She has yet to put her underwear back on, allowing my hands direct access to every inch of that gorgeous ass as I palm and squeeze it.
Anna is damn near breathless, gasping, “We can’t do this.”
“Why the fuck not?” I punctuate my point by lifting the hem of her skirt and licking up the wetness trailing down the inside of her upper thigh.
“Because it’s fucked up.” She almost sounds in pain when she says this, only encouraging me further.
“Baby, the world’s fucked up. We’re just living in it.”
Her head rocks back against the window, her hands grappling for something to hold as I tease her entrance. Hooking her leg over my shoulder, I bury my face under that skirt, and she’s already grinding against my mouth.
There she is.
My girl has been nothing but a walking contradiction since I met her. Everything she does, the way she acts and reacts, is nothing like the Anna I’ve been watching in her videos. She’s diligent, rigid, aware, closed off. Until tonight.
Even when I went down on her, even when she gave into temptation, I could still sense it in her.
She was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
But seeing her interacting with the festival goers, seeing the grace and magnetism she projected as she moved through the crowds was proof that the old Anna still exists.
Up until the moment that fucker grabbed her ass, she had been so utterly at peace with herself, with her surroundings.
She was smiling and even dared to close her eyes every now and again, just taking in the atmosphere with her other senses.
There was such confidence and revelry. She wasn’t just beautiful.
She was captivating, seducing men to follow her as easily as a siren would toward the Hall of Mirrors, and all it took was one look.
Her eyes would become hooded, the way I imagine they do in the bedroom, and a sly grin would seal her victim’s fate.
I want her to look at me like that. I want her to bite her bottom lip and crook her finger and lure me into a dark corner. I want to make it so that she always feels that free. I want her to know that I’ll never let another fucking shoe on the entire planet drop again.
I don’t know if it happens on its own or if she does it, but I feel the hood slide off my head, and I couldn’t give any less of a fuck. Her hands are in the back of my hair, fisting it as she whimpers, trying to hold back, to keep her composure.
Fuck that.
She isn’t getting off easy. She’s getting off swearing that I’m God.
The rhythm I set as I suck in her clit already has those whimpers evolving into moans.
I lift her higher up against the glass so that she can only stand on her tiptoes, forcing her to settle more of her weight on me.
The pressure it applies has her unraveling, and I didn’t even need to use my fingers.
Her cries echo across the warehouse, and like an addict, I need more. I want to wring that sound out of her every second of the day. I want it to be my new, permanent soundtrack.