“I… am them...” I croak, my eyes filling with tears as I take in my cracked windshield and slashed tires. “That’s mine.”
“What?” He whips around to face me, concern painting his every feature. “Who would do this?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been having—ugh.” I tangle my fingers in my hair and tug, trying to ground myself. “I don’t know.”
“Hey, stop. Calm down.” He starts to step toward me but seems to think better of it. “Everything’s going to be alright. Let’s start with your hair thing and then we can go report this. Surely there are cameras.”
“Okay.” I nod as I blow out a shaky exhale. “That’s… yeah, okay.”
I take a minute to suck in a few deep, calming breaths but it’s no use. My calm, easy, uneventful day just took a nosedive into the depths of hell.
“You can do this,” I whisper to myself. “It might not even be related.”
“Related to what?” Clint says as I edge closer to my car.
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “Ignore me. Let me just grab...” My words trail off entirely when I notice the folded sheet of paper tucked beneath my wiper blade.
Fucking hell. It’s totally him.
I reach for the note with trembling fingers, slowly unfolding it.
“What’s that?” Clint asks, but his voice sounds a million miles away.
You never notice me. Why don't you ever notice me?
My whole world revolves around you. You’re my first and last thought each and every day.
But do you ever think about me? No. You're too busy thinking about him.
That’s okay, Petal. I'm a patient man. I know, with time, you'll feel the same way I do.
-Your Sweetheart
“Scarlet?” Clint claps his hands loudly in front of my face,snapping me back to reality.
“What?” I ask, trying to make sense of where my day went so terribly wrong.
“Sorry.” He looks down at his boots. “I didn’t mean to scare you... you just zoned out. I-I didn’t know what else to do.”
“It’s okay,” I croak, my voice barely a whisper.
“It’s not. Who...” He nods toward the tear-stained page clutched between my fingers. “Who wrote that? It’s...” He shudders.
“I don’t know.” I shove the note into the zipper pocket of my scrub pants before wrapping my arms around myself. “I just don’t know.”
He shakes his head. “Well, let’s head inside and get the ball rolling on reporting this, yeah?”
Resigned, I nod, and together we head inside.
TWENTY-FIVE
ELLIS
My hand wrapsaround my rock-hard dick the second I hear the front door close. These past two days with Scarlet have been the most delicious kind of torture, but, goddamn, do I love it.
I stroke myself slowly from root to tip, picturing her here with me, on her knees begging for my cock. And the kicker is, I know she wants it—wants me. I know she’d let me feast on her cunt like a starving man. I know she’d let me fuck her, too.
And I’m down for all of that. Scarlet’s a total smoke show with a mouth meant for temptation and a body built for sin. But it just so happens my dick isn’t the only part of me involved…
