I wear his jersey and nothing else, ride him in the back of his truck, and scream his name until the windows fog. He spanks me red, calls me his good little wife, then flips me over and takes my ass under the stadium lights.
He ties me to his bed and blindfolds me, making me come until I cry—fingers, tongue, cock, toys—over and over. Then he breeds me, whispering how many babies he’s putting in me while I beg for more.
I slammed the notebook shut, breathing hard.
My dick was steel, leaking in my jeans.
I flipped through another. Dates. Times. Locations.
Oct 12 – listened to him shower after a workout. Came twice in the stall next to him.
Nov 3 – stole his hoodie from the dryer. Slept in it for three nights.
I should’ve been horrified. Instead, I wasthrobbing.
I dropped to my knees and opened the bottom drawer.
There was a lockbox in there, and I popped it open, blinking as I stared inside.
A used condom—mine—from who knows when, tied and labeled in Sharpie:Matty—locker rooms. My eyes widened as I briefly thought about the hookup I’d had one day.
How the fuck had she even gotten that?
A Polaroid of me sleeping, mouth open, sheets low on my hips. I could see her knee in the picture. She’d just taken that one.
A strand of my hair, tied with an orange ribbon.
I laughed, breathless and a little unhinged.
She’s insane.
She’s perfect.
I stood, cock aching, my heart slamming against my ribs.
I wanted to find her. Wanted to drag her back here, bend her over this desk, and fuck her while she stared at her own obsession. Wanted to make every fantasy real.
I was harder than I’d ever been in my life.
My eyes locked on the shrine again, atme, everywhere, every angle, every moment she’d stolen.
The torn photos. The circled stats. The orange hat. My name in red.
I couldn’t wait.
I shoved my sweatpants down just enough, fisting my cock. It was hot and leaking…pulsing in my grip.
One stroke.Two.
The sight of her devotion burned into my brain.
She watches me sleep. She steals my things. She dreams of me breeding her.
I groaned, pumping faster. My thumb smeared precum over the head, hips jerking into my hand. I pictured her on her knees in front of this wall, mouth open, begging.
Pictured her watching me now—knowing.
“Fuck, Ophelia,” I rasped. “You want me this bad?”
