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I was taken aback by how tall he is. I'm not short at six feet, but he towered over me by at least another three inches. He’s broad and muscular, dressed in sexy-as-sin black ripped jeans that his thick thighs could have torn.Oh fuck his thighs, I’m drooling. Don't even get me started on the rings on his fingers and the tattoos running up his neck. He was wearing a hoodie so I couldn't see his arms, but I suspect he’s covered in them.Then there are his eyes, an intense green with no hint of any other color. I noticed how he maintained eye contact with me. It felt like he was stripping me bare, not only my clothes but into my mind. But while he is the hottest man I’ve ever seen, he also has red flags that are flashing in warning around him. My gut is telling me he may not be stable. It's in his eyes, their lack of life and emotion. They just seemed dead. Then, he spoke in a detached manner, and his body language showed no movement. I watched as he assessed my outstretched hand when we met, processing the social prompt before he mirrored my action. No emotion, no nervousness, a total open book of nothingness.
He’s intimidating, but fuck do I want to have a taste, and in any other setting, I would try and jump on that. But I won't. He’s a patient, first of all, and second of all, I already got rid of a bad-egg ex who won't leave me alone. The last thing I need is to encourage a barely sane stranger into my life to make me forget everything for a few hours of rolling around in my bed.
What a hot fantasy, though, Noah taking me in my bed, those powerful thighs and arms trapping me while he fucks me senseless. Oh god, maybe suggesting weekly appointments wasn’t the best idea. An hour with him answering in one-worded responses has turned me into a cock-depraved whore. I'm so sexually frustrated that I’m actually worried for my health. It’s been a while since I was fucked thoroughly.This is all that asshole Wade’s fault, he’s turned me into a damn basketcase.
Needing to recalibrate and shake these feelings off, I notice the time and start packing my office away in preparation to go home. I scoff to myself at that word,home. A home is not meant to be an empty house that’s deafening in its silence. I'm not sure how long I can bear it, this ache in my chest and fear that I will never be enough for someone, that I’ll lose out on having that one constant in my life who is loyal and loves me. That oneperson to grow old with and have the fulfilling life that I dream of.
Walking out of the building at a speed to avoid any other interactions for the day, I head to my car in the parking lot, and throw my bag onto the passenger seat while I get behind the wheel. I'll get takeout tonight and wash it down with a few beers. Today has been taxing, and I can feel the exhaustion of the past two months starting to catch up with me. I wish there was a volume button in my brain. It won’t stop going over everything wrong in my life.
As I arrive home, I go inside and am met by my soundless house. I need to get out of this melancholy mood. I love my home, even though it's not full of the life I hoped for when I bought it. It's a simple house on the outskirts of town, in a very family-friendly suburb. It's enough for me with two bedrooms and a lovely backyard, which was the selling point to me because I love nature. It gives me an escape from all the stresses of work and life. I'm relieved that I never asked Wade to move in. He pretty much lived here, but he had his own apartment in town, so it worked. I was about to suggest it, but the desire quickly disappeared after I found him fucking another guy at his place when I went over unexpectedly. We both had keys to one another's homes, but I'd gone over to surprise him while he was at work. The plan was to cook him a special meal and then bring up the subject of him moving in.
Those plans changed when I opened his door to see him fucking some guy over the dining table. It's safe to say I ended it right there, and he hasn't left me alone since. Why do people cheat? Why not just end the relationship if you want to look elsewhere? I don't understand cheating on your partner only to then beg them to take you back. Like, what was the point? I'm a monogamous guy, and I refuse to alter that about myself. I justwant to have that one person, but I'm starting to wonder if I should just remain single. I can't go through this shit again.
I quickly shower, change into my basketball shorts and T-shirt, and order food while grabbing a beer from the fridge. Netflix is my date and comfort tonight, so I scroll through the listings to find something to keep my mind off Noah. The fucker keeps trying to invade my thoughts, and it’s annoying. My phone goes off, and my face falls, Wade, yet again, ruining the mood. I answer this time, thinking that maybe if I acknowledge him and give firmer boundaries, it will end his apparent need to try to excuse his behavior and get me back.
"What do you want, Wade? I've told you we're over and I don't want to talk to you."
A long gust of air comes through the other end of the phone.
"Chase, babe, I know it looked bad, but I want you. I just gave into a moment of weakness. He'd been flirting with me for months, and I don't know, I just?—"
My hackles rise. Pathetic excuse.
"You what, Wade? You accidentally invited him to your home then your dick fell into his ass?" I hiss at him. I'm so over this, and surprisingly, it's not the cheating that hurts so much anymore. It's his constant badgering of me. Listening to his voice is like talking to a stranger, and I begin to wonder if I loved him as much as I thought or if he’s hurt me so badly that I’ve become numb. I just want him to leave me alone.
"No, that's not what I'm saying, but babe, I just needed some affection. We weren't having sex as much, and I was just too weak to stop it. I love you, Chase. I don't want anyone else. Please, just give me another chance, please?"
“Maybe if you weren’t fucking another person our sex life would’ve been better. You’re the one that stopped touching me. Admit it. You wanted this to end.”
“Babe, that's not true. I never wanted us to end. Please, at least meet with me so we can talk.”
It’s my turn to sigh into the phone.
"No, Wade. I don't trust you, and we have nowhere to go from there. The love I had for you died the second I saw you both. I'm not wasting my life with someone who has no thought for me. Please, don't contact me again." I end the call.
Feeling a little more relieved, I’m glad we spoke. It clarifies that this was all for the best and that I need to move forward. I think Wade just needs to be single and fuck around. That's not me, and that's okay. But I will keep my guard up because I won’t be made a fool out of again.
The doorbell rings, and I go to answer, ravenous for my food. I fill my plate, grab my beer, and exhale in relief as I turn on a documentary on psychopaths, feeling more positive.
As I watch this program, I’m worried for my mind because my thoughts return to the sexy Noah, who is now taking the front stage in my fantasies.
Wade who?
CHAPTER 4
NOAH
Ilight my cigarette and blow the smoke out while watching the lights flicker in the living room of Chase's home. I followed him back when he finished work after our session today, not that he noticed.
Keeping to the shadows is what I’m good at. He has a lovely house, very homey. It suits him. It's quiet around here, nothing like the city, and I like it. It's very soothing. The quiet helps me remain calm as I flick through ideas in my head of what I want to do to Chase. I can't stop obsessing over him. He’s such a snack wrapped in temptation. That gorgeous plump ass in his preppy pants and his smooth skin that I want to mark. He’s a blank canvas of pure sex that I want.
I wonder if he has a partner. I'm almost certain he’s gay from the way he reacted to me, but it wouldn’t matter. I’ll make him like what I do to him, make him need it, crave it. It would be bad for his boyfriend or girlfriend if he does have anyone. I don't share my toys. It's taking all the restraint I have not to bang down the door and throw him over my shoulder so I can keep him locked up in my home, where only I can get to him.
Stubbing my cigarette out beneath my foot on the sidewalk, I slowly make my way over to his house. I can't see any security alarms or indication that he has the house tightly secured. I check the side gate to the rear of the house and notice it isn't locked. He’s making this too easy. I check over my shoulder that nobody is around, and quietly open and close the gate.
He has no security lights in the yard, either. I find the lack of challenge slightly disappointing, as the fight can just be as good as the fucking. He has a nice-sized garden and deck area. The lights in what appears to be the kitchen are not on, but I can see the reflection of the light the TV sends out, illuminating parts of the back of the house. It has an open-plan layout. I tentatively approach the back door and try the handle. Part of me is relieved it’s locked and that he possesses some common sense, at least. It's a single bolt lock, though, pretty straightforward.
I hear movement from inside, and I step back into the shadows as the lights from the kitchen turn on. I watch him enter the area, moving around in a sluggish manner. I can see the tiredness around his eyes and slumped shoulders from here. He looks exhausted, and something else. It may be sadness, but I'm not quite sure. Whatever it is, an overprotective surge hits me, wanting to make him feel better. Transfixed as I watch him stack his dishwasher through the window, I see car lights enter the driveway, and I move under the tree at the side of the property, where it’s shrouded in darkness.
