Me:You’re stalking me. That’s creepy as hell.
Unknown Number:I’m protecting you.
Me:From what exactly?
There’s a long pause. The moonlight catches on something slightly reflective at his side, is that a helmet? My grip tightens on the knife.
Unknown Number:From him.
Eli, he means. The thought that this stranger may know more about us than even my closest friends makes my skin crawl. Yet there’s something almost comforting in not being alone with this secret anymore. Even if he only knows because he's a fucking stalker. I can easily see myself losing my goddamn mind.
Me:You don’t know me.
Unknown Number:I know enough.
Another pause, then:
Unknown Number:Sleep well, Lila. I’ll be watching.
With that, he steps backward, melting into the shadows of the dune grass. I move closer to the window, straining to see where he’s gone. Nothing. Just darkness and wind-swept grass.
I stay by the window, knife in hand, scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. My phone remains silent. The security cameras continue their steady surveillance, revealing nothing but empty rooms and the occasional shadow cast by passing clouds.
My legs grow tired, but I don’t sit. What if he comes back? What if he decides watching isn’t enough anymore? The adrenaline that kept me alert begins to fade, leaving exhaustion in its wake. How long has it been since I’ve truly slept? Not just dozed fitfully with one ear listening for Eli’s footsteps, but actually slept?
Minutes tick by. My eyelids grow heavy. I should move the chair to block the door again, just in case. Should check that all the windows are locked. Should do something about the cameras he’s somehow hacked into.
Instead, I sink back into my lavender chair, knife still clutched in my hand. Just for a moment, I tell myself. Just need to rest my eyes.
The last thing I see before sleep claims me is the blinking of that dim red light on the camera in the corner of my library, watching. Always watching.
And for the first time in years, that thought doesn’t terrify me quite as much as it should.
11
Anthony
When I make itback to my bike, I hope a short ride will settle me down. My dick and balls are crushed between me and the seat and since I can’t stop thinking about her, the fucker won't go back down. It would be better if I just made my way home and either took an ice bath, or rubbed one out. I want her to be mine and feel safe, to enjoy the experience with me. If she feels safe, she’ll let me do whatever I want to her.
I imagine chasing her down and catching her, fucking her hard and then caring for her tenderly. Just the way I know she would like. There are no journals in her room, no writings that were personal anywhere, but her books have a ton of highlighted sex scenes and chapters. I took pictures and saved some on my phone.
She has no idea how often I sneak in when no one is home, just so I can learn more about her. I even watch her while she sleeps, and she is a deep, deep sleeper. I bet she thinks she isn't. She hasn’t woken up beforeher alarm the entire time I’ve been sneaking inside. Not even tonight's visit, after she'd thought I'd left. I went rummaging upstairs first and stole a pair of her lacy panties. That whole stunt with the knife didn’t change my mind at all, but it did seem to make her feel better.
Pulling up to my townhouse, a nice view of the bay here. I hadn’t realized how close I lived to her until Cainen sent me that software.
Leaving my bike in the garage, I head through the inner garage door, up the stairs into the kitchen. I put my keys on the counter. The only downside is there are three levels to this townhouse and the master suite is on the third floor. I dart up the stairs. These panties are burning a hole in my pocket while my dick is trying to drill through my pants. A cold shower isn’t going to cure this ache.
Throwing all my clothes on the floor and climbing onto my bed, with my phone in one hand and her panties in the other, I bring up the camera from her library. She’s sleeping soundly. What I wouldn’t give to have her here.
Propping my phone up on the side table so I can watch her sleep, laying on my back with my head turned to her relaxed form. She’s also on her back, with her copper hair splayed over her pillow, highlighting those beautiful blonde streaks on either side. One arm above her head, the other tucked into her night shorts.
I bring the panties up to my nose and inhale, imagining that she’s touching herself for me, too. My cock twitches and I take it in my other hand. Stoking gently at first, wishing that it was her small hand gripping me.
Adding in some lube, hoping it will make it feel more like her pussy, I stroke harder and faster. My body tightens and loosens as the sensation of my orgasm builds at thebase of my spine and works its way up my body. She stirs in her chair and lets out a sleepy sigh, almost like she knows.
I’m undone. I wrap Lila’s panties around my cock and grip a little harder, stoking faster. Releasing ropes of cum all over them. Who knew that simply having her panties would make me come so much harder?
“Fuck, Lila.” I growl as I throw my head back. Unable to keep my legs still until my climax is over. “Damn it, I’ve ruined your underwear,” I sigh deeply at my phone screen. She’s still sleeping peacefully. “Guess I’ll have to try and take another pair before I leave for a week next month.”
