Scenarios where escape is impossible and surrender is inevitable.
My cock throbs in my fist. It's intoxicating, this spying I do. Watching her type words I've already memorized.
She craves the experience. Writes it because she can't have it. Can't trust herself to seek it out after every disappointment taught her that real men are nothing like the monsters in her head.
But I am.
I'm exactly like them.
Better, actually. Because I have resources.
Planning.
Six months of surveillance footage and behavioral pattern analysis.
I know her triggers, her limits, her tells when she's lying to herself.
She has no idea that every fantasy she's ever written is about to come true.
No idea that "Prey" isn't fiction—it's prophecy.
Christmas Eve is less than an hour away.
Then she's mine.
I stand. Water sluices off my shoulders, my chest, runs down my thighs. My hard cock juts out, unapologetic. I don't reach for the towel hanging on the deck rail, I just walk inside dripping.
The hardwood is cold under my bare feet. Water pools with each step, trailing behind me through the mudroom, the kitchen, down the hallway. My cock bobs with the movement, still hard and wanting.
The shower is hot enough to hurt. Water hammers my shoulders, my neck, runs down my chest and legs in rivers that pool at my feet before disappearing down the drain.
I scrub under my fingernails with the brush to get rid of the blood.
When I'm done, I shut off the water and dry efficiently. Gray sweatpants. Nothing else.
The whiskey bottle sits on the kitchen counter where I left it this morning. I pour two fingers neat, take it to the leather couch, set my laptop on the coffee table, and sit.
Even though the cut on the screen above the massive stone fireplace is still repeating, showing Scarletta as she furiously types out her deepest, darkest fantasies, that's not what I'm thinking about.
I've got new chapters to read.
The anticipation I feel before opening my laptop is pure arousal. twenty-seconds later, the DarkDesires forum is loading.
Her profile appears first in my bookmarks. ScarletSins. Last active: 4 minutes ago.
This realization sparks abject lust. My cock throbs, interested now in a way I can't refuse it. My hand slides down into my sweats, griping my shaft with intent.
Almost every night little Scarletta posts between 2,000 and 3,000 words. Always a full scene. Always filled with her most private, filthy desires.
The throbbing between my legs intensifies when I see the little green dot. When I realize she's online right now. This very fucking moment. Probably curled in that pathetic blanket fort, laptop heating her thighs, coffee going cold beside her as her fingers work between her legs.
She masturbates two, sometimes three times a day.
I click her latest chapter.
The chapter is calledConfession, the book is called See Me, Spank Me, Cure Me.
I read the opening line.
