I do as he says, spreading my legs and leaning back so he can see me running my fingers across the dark lace in a figure eight pattern.
“Does it feel good?” he asks with heated intensity as he watches me touch myself. His hand begins to stroke his length, using my spit to lube his shaft.
“Yes,” I whimper as I pick up my pace, rubbing fast and chasing my pleasure. “So good.”
“Show me your cunt.” His tone is rough, as if he’s barely holding on. “Pull those panties to the side and let me watch.”
His words are filthy. Yet, I’m desperate to comply. I swiftly slide the lace to the side, exposing my drenched core to the cool air.
“Such a perfect pussy,” he groans as he watches me touch myself. His hand jerks faster and faster, matching my pace as we both chase our release.
“I wanna taste your cum,” I whisper as I lean forward. I take him in my mouth again, sucking him in pace with the tempo of my fingers flicking my clit.
“That’s it,” Gabriel grunts as his hips begin to stutter.
His cock thickens in my throat, pulsing as he nears release. My own pleasure begins to crest and I become completely desperate. Fucking my hand and sucking him down deep beneath my own desk, I ride the high until I crash.
Electrical pleasure shoots through me as my walls contractand wave after wave of release hits me. I scream around Gabriel’s dick, and that seems to do him in. He comes with a muffled cry. Rope after rope of warm cum coats my throat. And I greedily swallow down every last drop.
I become acutely aware that the only sound left in the room is our painting breaths. Slowly, I lean back, sliding his softening shaft from my mouth. I sit back on my knees and smile up at the man who’s turned my entire life on its head. His blue eyes are a swirling sea of stormy blue.
“You were perfect, Princess.” His praise warms a part of me deep down.
I open my mouth to reply but before I can, my phone vibrates against the wooden surface of my desk. My eyes flick to the illuminated screen.
HUBBY: Hey, just landed. Will meet you home after work.
And just like that, the peaceful calm I felt just a moment ago, is shattered.
FOURTEEN
The Devil
Unhinged. Obsessive. Stalker.
Words others might use if they could see me. If they knew how I lurked in the shadows—watching, waiting.
But what you don’t see, what you don’t know, what you didn’t stop to think about is that maybe I have a good motherfucking reason to feel this way.
Monsters are never born—they’re made.
The red and blue lights flash across the dark sky, lighting up the otherwise quiet suburban street. Neighbors have come out to watch the unfolding scene in their robes and slippers. They congregate on either side of the sweet two-story home, whispering among themselves about whatever could be happening at the Clarke home.
Poor Allison. She sits shocked on the pavement outside, watching as officers filter in and out of her home. Her pale cheeks are illuminated by the cruiser lights surrounding her house. She has a blanket draped across her slumped shoulders. Her eyes stare up at the white colonial, seeing and unseeing. She looks like a ghost—her happy little facade cracking and breaking with each muddy boot that trumps through her perfectly pristine suburban cage. Poor, poor Allison. Such a shame that her flawless little life is falling apart.
It was a necessary evil, though.She can’t be mine if she’s his.
The man of the hour is pacing angrily across the lawn. His phone is to his ear as he yells and waves his free arm. He’s still in the same jeans and polo shirt he was wearing when I watched him get off the plane. His blond hair is tousled and in disarray from running his fingers through it while he anxiously talks on the phone. No doubt calling daddy.
Daddy can’t get you out of this one, you fucking piece of shit.
Allison doesn’t even look at her husband. They were back home together for mere minutes before the police showed up. I wonder if she’s even had time to question him about where he’s been and who he’s been with? Did she ask him if he was with another woman? The thought of her simmering with rage while she accuses him of cheating has the corners of my lips titling up to a smile. I wonder if she knows what the police are looking for—what they’ll find?
Not that he was actually cheating, of course. Fucking dipshit was more than willing to let me catfish him andlure him away for the week so I could enjoy more late-night visits with my Sleeping Beauty uninterrupted. ‘Jessica’ was a computer generated mock up of attractive blonde women—Brody’s preference—who met him on a dating app geared toward married men looking for discrete affairs. It was easy enough to hack into Brody’s phone and access all the information I needed to lead him straight to ‘Jessica.’ The minute she offered to suck him off in Vegas, he booked a flight.
Fucking pathetic.
If that goddess was in my bed, there would be no creature in Hell or Earth that could make me leave her. I’d stay trapped between those sinfully slender thighs for the remainder of my days and then find her in every afterlife that came next, obsessively chasing her until the end of existence. But that’s why this plan is necessary, you see. He doesn’t deserve her. She is meant to be mine. And I will do whatever it takes to make sure that happens.
