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I leave out the cameras and microphones they put in that I used to beat off about a thousand times, but in the end, all the video and sound only made me angry because it wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t her.
I’d wasted enough time, following her around, taking pictures, even had a fucking drone hovering around her place with fucking night vision watching through her windows. None of it was enough, so I got things set up.
Yesterday I snuck in to prepare for tonight, to make sure I knew how everything worked and how to navigate in the dark. I took the little shorts and t-shirt she sleeps in with ‘Badass’ writing across her tits and ‘Nice Ass’ written across the back of the shorts. They were laying on the floor in her bathroom next to the hamper. I put them to my face, growled a long inhale, then reached in my pants and fucked my fist as I smelled her.
I dabbed my cream around her place like a psychopath. A little on her pillow, some on her sheets. A little in her conditioner, some in her bodywash. On her loofah.
I considered her toothbrush but by then my jizz was getting pretty flaky and I may act like a lunatic, but I wanted to stay just this side of the line.
For now.
I won’t tell her that she’ll never find her hairbrush because I wanted the hairs that were stuck to it. That I couldn’t leave without taking a bra and a pair of panties from her underwear drawer.
I’m sick. Sick for her. She’s the only medicine I’ll ever need.
She’s shaking her pretty blonde head, but her chest is rising and falling with short breaths, her nipples pebbling through her turquoise-blue camisole. I see her thighs trembling as she tries to rub them together. “You’re crazy.”
I nod. “You drive me crazy, Anna. I can’t think, can’t sleep, can’t eat. I need you and you’re mine. No fucking way you don’t know that.”
“I should scream for help. I should run.” Despite her words, I see the smile pulling at the corners of her lips. She meets my eyes, and I see them twinkle. “You know my dad would tear you limb from limb if I told him about this, right?”
“I doubt that very much, baby. But you and I both know you’re not going to tell him. Because you know I’m right.”
“Cocky much?” She narrows her eyes. She’s annoyed. I get that. It’s fair. She’s a badass and I’m on her turf. She draws a deep breath, then I see the grin as she opens her mouth and lets go, “Help! Dad! There’s an intrud—”
I’m on her before she can get the last word out, clasping my hand over her mouth as I push her back, thudding against the door on a muffled grunt. My other hand flattens against her stomach, and the urge to slip my hand down and grab her pussy is almost unbearable.
Until she does it for me.
Her tiny fingers slide around my wrist then tug. Dragging it down as I watch her eyes. Amusement. Fear. Excitement. All the emotions vie with each other as they cross her features, as she pulls my hand to the spot between her legs, where her scandalously-tiny shorts crease into her pussy.
“Damp,” I grunt, and see her nod, breathing hard through her nose with my hand still clasped over her mouth. “This is what I do to you. This is what we mean to each other.” Then the anger bubbles back up again as I press my fingers into her warmth. “Tell me about this fiancé of yours,” I growl, pulling my hand away even as hers pulls back, trying to keep me there, but she’s no match for my strength.
She moans out as soon as I pull my other hand from her mouth, pressing her hips forward, searching for what’s been taken away.
“Answer the fucking question,” I hiss.
“There is no fiancé,” she groans, arching her back, pulling away from the door, but I slam her back, her grin at the rough play making me so fucking hard I could hammer nails with my dick right now.
“Your dad said you’re engaged.” I push my hand back between her legs, taking a hard handful of what’s mine.
“Oh, God, Cyrus—” She breathes through her nose, licking her upper lip, her eyes drifting. “I’m not. He’s just—God—he’s just the guy my parents have picked. It’s the way they do things. To them, I’m engaged. There’s nothing I can do about it.”
“The fuck there isn’t.” I press my fingers hard into her through the shorts and whatever she has on underneath. Jesus, just thinking about how sticky her underwear must be getting is driving me wild. I want to rip them from her, inhale their sweet scent, lick every drop. “Tell me who he is,” I demand. “I’m going to go introduce myself and make sure he understand the new order of things.”
