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“…But it’s good you asked me,” Vincent continues, lowering his voice a little. “If someone is stalking you, you need to be suspicious. Of everything… and everyone.” He adds solemnly, creasing his mouth and looking down for a moment.
“I think I’ll be fine, Prof-… Vincent.” I practically whisper, willing myself to make a decision to ask him up or have him break my heart gently in the foyer. But like most other things, Vincent seems to have his mind made up what he wants.
“Now. Show me up, or down or whichever apartment’s yours, and let me see for myself just how ‘fine’ the security is… I mean, we just walked in here ourselves unchallenged. How many other people could just walk in off the street?”
His statement gives me another creepy chill, and so does the edge in his voice. Only because I know he's right, but he’s so matter of fact about things he sounds impatient. Like any genius, he gets annoyed when the world can't keep up with him.
I really like Vincent, I do. But there’s another part to him I can sense, something darker that challenges me. I thought at first it’s just because he's so much more mature than I am. ‘Experienced’ wouldn't even begin to describe Vincent.
Vincent makes a sweeping gesture with his arm, inviting me to lead the way. It’s so sudden to see a man of his size stoop down so low with such theatrics, I can’t help but stifle a grin. He can go from being as hard as stone genius one minute to utterly charming gentleman or playing the fool so fast my heart and my brain can't keep up.
I do as instructed though, feeling his eyes on me as he hangs back a few steps up the narrow staircase, on account of the elevator never working. Not since another century by the looks of it.
Reaching my floor, I’m holding my breath to stop from panting. Exercise never appealed to me and living here hasn’t changed that. Climbing three flights just to get home is hard enough on a good day, but with Vincent so close behind…
The breath I have leaves me in a single dry croak before I gasp as I get closer to my apartment.
Vincent already pushing his way ahead, shielding me with his massive body.
My front door is ajar, the woodwork around the lock splintered. Whoever was or is in there isn’t playing around anymore.
My arms reach for Vincent out of sheer fright. Trembling as I hear myself whimpering until he shushes me with a single press of his hand over mine.
“I’m here, Violet. And if anyone is in there, it means we can put this business to bed once and for all.”
Vincent strides forward, pushing the door wider with one confident movement before he steps inside.
Chapter 5
Vincent
There’s something about the way Violet’s fear affects me. She’s not afraid of me, I know that much. And sure, if she knew I was and still am her original stalker, number one. Then I'm sure she might not be so clingy and touchy-feely once it’s clear whoever else has been watching her has his own key.
A stout jimmy bar by the looks, so I know to be on my tippy toes alert if he’s still in there. Assuming it is a he and there is only one of them.
Could be her second stalker, could be a regular ol’ burglary. Or maybe she hasn’t paid her rent, who knows?
But this side of Violet when she’s afraid…
An hour ago I wanted to protect her from feeling afraid, to let her know she's safe. And I still do.
But damn if it doesn’t make her wanna grab hold of me for reassurance. I pause long enough to soak in the sensation of her body pressing into mine. Feeling her fear.
Her need for me.
A need almost as intense as my own for her.
My keen senses tell me the place is empty. I know the layout of her apartment, know all the windows are barred so the only way in and out is through the front, and anyone who makes such a clumsy attempt at getting in isn't gonna hang around for long.
A quick sweep of her tiny two rooms confirms it, but Violet’s still clinging to me by the time she spots her drawers open, her most intimate underwear spilling out of the furniture looking like a silken laced tongues. Probing the air. Teasing the tip of my already engorged prick the longer I look at them.
“I’m calling the cops, this is bullshit.” She announces, loosening her grip on me and fishing for her phone.
I hear her gasp, her eyes wide with that fear again, but it takes a moment to register that its because I've gripped her by the wrist. Hard. The phone dropping from her hand, thudding dully onto the threadbare excuse for carpeting.
“You’re- You're hurting me-Vincent!” She growls, snatching her wrist back. Playing hard to get. And not calling anyone.
“I think it’s best if you don't stay here, Violet.” I tell her, casually scooping up her phone and slipping it into my own pocket. Even taking a step over to her open dresser and lifting a pair of her panties with my index finger.
