The incoming message dots flicker.
u/Pipsqueak98 types:
Nothing about me is easy.
I’m a runner and a fighter.
So…catch me if you can.
My eyes darken.
Adrenaline courses through my veins with every heartbeat.
Excellent.
We chat for over an hour. I give her nothing, take everything. Details, hints, patterns. What excites her. What unsettles her.
I can picture it so easily now—her fingers trembling over the keyboard, lips caught between her teeth, trying to decipher my words. Trying to figure out if she should run or stay.
She’ll stay.
I want to hunt her down. I want to see her wavy, long hair bounce over the delicate curves of her spine as she tries to outrun me, wracked with the fear of being caught. I picture how delicious her tight, plump ass would feel finally in my hands with her long, toned legs wrapped around me as I command her to do my bidding. What would her pulse, throbbing against my fingers as my hand wrapped around her throat, feel like as her heart rate spikes with excitement and anticipation, filling those gorgeous cheeks with that pretty pink flush Ilike so much.
And her eyes…
I think about her eyes staring into mine… those crystal baby blues with that unique amber speck. I envision looking into those eyes as I bury my cock inside her, fucking her within an inch of sanity as her perfect tits bounce in rhythm to my thrusts.
It’s not her fear I crave, but her lust. Her trust. Her submission. That moment when fear converts to desire. My need to hunt her down like an apex predator to capture that moment–and reward it. I tried to keep my distance, but she wants this… and I’ll give it to her.
I'll press that factory reset function on my little pipsqueak until she is hard-wired to respond to me and only me. She is mine to manipulate, mold, bend, and break.
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.
