Idon’t regret it. Not any more than when I stuck a gun in her cunt and made her come.
And I know how fucked up that is—to take something without consent. I know that’s what I’m fighting against every day.
She hasn’t given it to me yet, but she will. I know my little mouse better than she knows herself. She’s in too much denial to see how drawn she is to me. If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t instigate, pushing to get her clit bitten, knowing damn well I stay true to my word.
If she genuinely wasn’t intrigued, she wouldn’t have texted me back in the first place.
Her actions speak an entirely different language than her words. A language filled with desire and pleas—she just hasn’t learned to translate it yet.
Doesn’t make it right, nor does it justify it. But I can’t make myself regret tasting something so fucking sweet—so fucking perfect. Even if she didn’t want to want it. Because that’s what that was.
She knew I was going to follow through with my threat if she told me to fuck off again, and she kept doing it anyways. And that tells me that my little mouse can’t control how she really feels. This means that whatever she feels, it’s fucking addicting.
She fought me so hard initially, her anger and ire only turning my blood to molten lava. The harder she fought me, the harder my cock fought against the confines of my jeans.
I wanted so badly to release the zipper and plunge myself deep inside that sweet little pussy. I was close—too fucking close to doing it. Once those cries of pleasure reached my ears, and she gripped me in her hold, shamelessly grinding against my face—I was nearly done for.
The only thing that stopped me was the look on her face.
When she was coming on my face, she was unashamed. But as soon as the orgasm drained from her body and the kiss was no longer consuming us, she felt nothing but shame.
It’s going to take time, I remind myself.
I crack my neck, releasing a shuddering breath.
I’m sitting in my Mustang, my dick still painfully pressed against my zipper. Just as I decide to say fuck it—jacking off in a car is the least of my sins and wouldn’t be the first fucking time—my phone blares in the console next to me.
I curl my hand into a tight fist, my muscles straining as I fight the overwhelming urge to bash it into the fucking window.
I don’t think I’ve had blue balls like this since high school when Sarah Forton jacked me off in the locker room. It was the first time a girl touched my dick, and I didn’t even get to finish because Coach walked in before I could shoot my load off on her pretty tits.
I snatch up the phone and bring it to my ear without even looking.
“Yeah?” I snap, my frustration boiling to dangerous levels.
“Didn’t get laid tonight?” Jay croons through the phone, his voice laced with mocking amusement.
I crack my neck again, growling when my muscles don’t pop and give me any relief.
“Jay,” I growl.
I refuse to touch my dick while on the phone with him. As much as I need to lessen the pressure, Jay’s voice would make me feel sick.
“Satan’s Affair is coming to town,” he starts. I open my mouth—gearing up to ask him why the fuck that would matter to me.
“And I got confirmation there’re tickets with four little birdy’s names on them,” he continues. I snap my mouth shut.
“Why would they go there?” I ask, completely confused why four grown-ass men would go to a haunted fair.
“Prime girls for the pickin’, my friend. And now there’s a ticket with your name on it.”
I sigh. “When?”
“Three weeks from now. Plenty of time to go to the clubs a few times and start showing that pretty face of yours.”
Sighing again, I pluck the pack of cigarettes from the console, bring it to my mouth, and slide out a cigarette with my teeth.
I grab my lighter and flick the flame, inhaling deeply as the cherry blares red.
“You’re smoking, aren’t you?” Jay says. I offer a noncommittal confirmation as I roll down my window and blow out smoke.
The raging hard-on is gone, but my dick still hurts.
“You said you were going to quit,” he whines. “Do you know how many chemicals are in that? According to the—”
“Jay,” I snap, cutting off his tangent. If I let it go on, he’d list off the ingredients in a cigarette like he’s listing off all the components in the periodic table.
Nobody. Fucking. Cares.
He sighs like an angry teenager on their period. “Whatever,” he mumbles.
“Update me if anything else comes up,” I say before clicking off the phone.
I drag in another inhale of smoke and turn my attention to my laptop.
The inside of my Mustang is decked out in gadgets. A laptop sits on a platform, a mechanical arm attached to the dash so I can push and pull it towards me for convenience. Dash cams, an alert system for law enforcement, and other illegal shit decorate the interior of my car.
I pull the laptop towards me and fire it on. The bright screen stabs at my sensitive eyes. Squinting against the light, I pull up my programs and get to work.
In pure curiosity, I want to know who is attending this haunted fair.
It comes to town every single year, and I’ve never bothered to go. Haunted houses don’t scare me. Not when I see true horror every day.
There’s nothing a couple of made-up monsters can do to horrify me more than the actual monsters polluting this world.
Humans don’t need to decorate themselves in gory make-up and fake blood to be scary. It’s the insides of us—the darkness that lurks beneath the surface—that’s what’s truly fucking terrifying.
That’s what leads people to commit heinous crimes every single day. That’s what leads innocent little kids to die horrific deaths for no fucking reason at all.
The insides of us—that’s what keeps me alive. It’s the only purpose I have in life, and without it, I’d be nothing.
I scroll through the list of names and stop short when I see one in particular that has my heart pounding.
Adeline Reilly.
I smile. Well, that used to be my only reason for living. But now… now I’ve discovered a new meaning to life.
ME: I can still taste you, little mouse.
I stepped back for all of two days before I could no longer resist.
I’ve beat my dick like it was an opponent in a boxing match, and I’m so fucking tired of the feel of my own hand.
There are zero expectations for her to reply today. I’m sure she’s still nestled comfortably in that corner of her head where she hates herself and is convinced she’ll never give me the time of day again.
But that corner is a farce, and we both know it. The feel of my gun inside her scared her. But the feel of my tongue on her pussy, and how hard she came will fucking haunt her.
She’ll cry about it for a little while, but soon she’ll fall right back into temptation.
ADDIE: Did you know a stalker killed my great-grandmother?
My brows shoot into my hairline at her text.
Not only was I not expecting one at all, but the fact that she replied with real words and not some empty threat. Hers don’t necessarily hold weight like mine do.
ME: Do you have proof of this?
Based on the few journal entries I read, she and her stalker had a passionate relationship. And he was also tossed up with some bad people according to the entry of him visiting her with unknown injuries. It didn’t seem like he showed signs of aggression or violent obsession. But who really knows?
Addie’s great-grandmother could’ve just been seeing what she wanted to see, and he really did kill her.
Or maybe her husband caught her having an affair and flew into a fit of rage.
Both possibilities are equally likely, just as it’s likely that whatever shit her stalker got mixed up in could’ve bitten him in the ass. And bite they did—right where it would’ve hurt him most.
His obsession.
After I poked through the diary, I became curious and looked deeper into her great-grandmother’s story. The pull of history repeating itself was too intriguing.
The crime scene was trampled over, and the detectives handling the case were complete imbeciles.
ADDIE: Not yet. But I’m going to find it. And I’ll be proven right. All stalkers are just fucking psychotic freaks.
I purse my lips, a smile threatening to take over. I’ll let her stew on her response for a few minutes. Let her think she pissed me off or hurt me. Whatever she’s convinced herself my reaction would be.
She thinks she knows me already, but my little mouse couldn’t be further from the truth.
I stalk her because I’m fucking addicted. I’m fascinated with every move she makes, every word that comes from her pretty pink mouth. And now I’m addicted to her scent, her taste, and the way she sounds when she’s scared for her life—just as much as I’m addicted to the way she sounds when she’s begging for more.
It’s not something I can explain. When I saw her, I fucking nearly fell to my knees with need, and I will have her.
But not because I’m psychotic and delusional. I’m not going to make a goddamn shrine of her and convince myself that we were destined to be together by the gods or whatever weird shit people believe in these days.
I’ll have her because she’s the first thing that made me feel something good in so long, and I’ve become obsessed with keeping it.
I don’t have very many something goods in my life, and I don’t care if it makes me selfish for wanting to hold on to it.
The only way I’ll be able to truly keep her is if she sees me at my worst.
I would rather just off myself than trick Addie into loving me as a good man, just to break both of our hearts when she realizes I’m not a good man at all.
So, my obsession with her is just… is what it is.
ME: Well, that’s pretty judgy, don’t ya think? Your great-grandmother loved her stalker last time I checked.
She’s going to be pissed when she sees that I snooped through her great-grandmother’s diaries.
Smiling, I pull up the camera feed of her house on my phone and click through until I find Addie sitting on her bed, staring at her phone. I was alerted when she took out the camera in her bedroom, and it wasn’t hard to sneak in while she was out and set up my own. Though I can’t see her face very well, it doesn’t take a telescope to see she’s glaring holes into the screen.
She’s pretty fun when she’s angry.
Her thumbs start moving a mile a minute, and I can’t help but laugh when she slam dunks the phone on her pillow after she hits send.
My phone buzzes a second later.
ADDIE: He tricked her, just like what you’re trying to do to me. And then he killed her. Just like I’m sure you’ll eventually try to do too.
I roll my eyes at her dramatics and hit the call button.
She picks up the phone but doesn’t speak. I hear her breathing softly through the receiver, and I wish I were there to lick her pulse. To feel it drumming against my tongue.
I love that I scare her.
“You done being dramatic?” I ask, letting her hear the amusement in my voice.
She huffs, and I can picture the scowl on her face. My cock hardens in my jeans, swelling to the point of pain in a matter of seconds.
“Dramatic? You think Gigi being murdered by her stalker is dramatic? Do you think being stalked at all is something to take lightly?”
“Well, of course not,” I reply. “People die all the time from crazed stalkers.”
My honesty stuns her into silence.
“Addie, baby, you’re smart for being scared. Very smart. But why would I want you to fall in love with something fake?”
She snorts. “You really think I’d fall in love with you?”
“You’re really going to act like you wouldn’t? If I approached you in that bookstore and asked you on a date, I’d woo you, charm you, show you a pretty fake smile and treat you like a queen, all while lying to your face. Is that really what you want?”
Silence greets me again. She can’t say no, and she knows it.
“Why can’t you just be decent and not feel the need to stalk me?”
“Because then I wouldn’t be true to myself, little mouse. I love that I scare you. I love that you try to run from me. The push and pull. The cat and mouse game. I fucking love it. And I think a part of you does, too.”
She scoffs at me. “You’re fucking insane if you think I love you scaring me. But then again, I already knew you were.”
I smile. I can’t remember the last time I genuinely smiled before I inserted myself into this beautiful creature’s life.
“Don’t you, though? I see how you try to hide how wet your pussy gets when you’re scared. Your nipples get so fucking hard, and you clench your thighs tight as if that’s going to lessen the need to feel my cock inside of you.”
She gasps, a quiet inhale of breath. I grind my teeth against the raging urge to go to her house and bring that noise out of her some more.
“Did you do it?” she asks suddenly, as if the question burst out of her. Her breathing escalates. “Did you kill Arch?”
I bite my bottom lip, a smile forming. I’ve been waiting for this question. Surprised it took her so long to work up the nerve when she’s got plenty of it to disobey me.
“I think you already know the answer to that, Adeline.”
“I do. His family is dead, too.”
I’m not surprised to hear that she knows. It made national news, after all. Bodies are gone without a trace, and a bit of a war has begun now that there’s a power vacuum.
“Do you know what that caused, kitty cat?”
I chuckle at the nickname. I’ll correct that little bad habit of hers soon.
“It gained me some pretty fucked up enemies.”
My smile fades. I’ve been keeping an eye on Arch’s friends. But apparently, I haven’t been keeping it close enough.
“Max?” I guess. I’ve heard he’s been strong-arming his way to the top.
“Yup,” she says sassily, popping the P.
“Hmm,” I hum, my mind wandering to all the ways I’m going to teach Max and his crew a lesson. I had hoped they would be smart enough to leave Addie alone with her police reports disappearing. She listened and didn’t report the hands to the police. In retrospect, Max has no reason to target Addie.
Which means he had to have found out about the hands.
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say? Humm? Some pretty dangerous men are after me because of you, ya’ know? If I end up dead because of your psychotic jealou—”
“Let me stop you there, baby. Because you seem to forget that I had a gun in your pussy not too long ago. Did you think teaching you how to act right is the only lesson I’m teaching with that?” She quiets. “If you think low-life criminals are scarier than me, then I haven’t been clear enough, have I? Next time you place them above me, I’ll be sending their heads to your doorstep next.”
I crack my neck, the flare of anger subsiding now that Addie has closed her pretty little mouth. She’s starting to learn, but I hope to God she never stops talking back.
I do like to punish her.
“I-I don’t even know why I’m talking to you,” she finally stutters out. “You’re a sick, deranged individual. And I already made another police report against you, asshole.”
Lies. The last report she made about me was the night she pretended to call when I stood outside her house. She was attempting to scare me away, but once I called her out on it, she followed through with the threat. My girl doesn’t back down from a challenge.
I walked back to my car with a stiff cock and a smile on my face. I don’t back down, either.
A bark of laughter bursts from my throat before I can stop it.
“That’s funny?”
“That’s sexy. But we both know that’s not true.”
I’ve been deleting them since she started making them and sent a guy in to destroy any physical evidence. The policemen will recall going to her house, but the second they try to investigate—if they ever got off their asses, that is—they would have nothing to go off of. Not that stalking cases are ever taken seriously anyways, which is why so many women end up murdered.
She growls and hangs up on me, and I can’t keep in the fucking laughter. Especially when I pull the feed up and see her stomping her cute little feet around the house mumbling to herself, probably berating herself for even picking up the phone.
The fun has only just begun, little mouse.
