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Slamming my fist on the steering wheel, my thoughts whirl, imagining all the dangers that could befall her in this cruel world without me to protect her, but also knowing that any association with me could be her downfall. The thought of another man threatening her sends a violent surge of anger coursing through my veins. I can’t allow anyone else to hurt her, but I’m not letting her go. She belongs to me – my heart, my obsession, my forbidden desire.
I’ll do whatever it takes to find her, to protect her, to claim her as my own.
When the phone rings through the car’s speakers, I snarl and answer, “What?”
“Boss,” a voice crackles, jolting me out of my dark thoughts. It’s Mark, my right-hand man, his tone laced with concern. “What’s going on? We’ve not seen you all fucking day.”
“Personal business,” I growl.
“Fair enough. Anything you need help with?”
“No, if I did, I would’ve called you.” Hanging up with a shake of my head, I consider his words. I like Mark, in so much as Ilikeanyone. He is loyal and probably won’t roll on me if a gun was held to his head. The others? I wonder sometimes. Money talks, and everyone has their price, even Mark, I’m sure. A lesson I’ve learned the hard way. Trust is not an option. Everyone is an enemy, even if they serve me now.
Each passing moment feels like an eternity as I make my way through the fucking city rush hour so I can park up outside Summer’s home, the cruel hands of time mocking my relentless pursuit of this innocent dove.
Finally getting clear of the traffic, I press harder on the accelerator, the engine roaring with impatience that mirrors my own. The Hellcat devours the distance between us, a predator stalking its prey.
As I turn onto her street, my heart hammers wildly in my chest. In just moments, I’ll be outside her door – so close. A strange blend of anticipation and fear coils, tightening its grip on my soul.
“Summer,” I whisper, my breath ragged. “I’m coming for you.”
Pulling up outside Summer’s house, I park my car in the shadows of the overgrown tree a few meters from her home. The menacing purr of the engine dies as I switch it off, leaving me with only the sound of my own ragged breaths and pounding heart. I scan the area, searching for any signs of her.
With a sigh, I lean back in my seat, my hand gripping the steering wheel tightly. Feeling a mixture of frustration and concern as I stare at the seemingly empty house. Did she make it home already? Is she inside, her heart pounding as she thinks about me?
Part of me wonders if she went to a friend or family. Does she know how I tracked her down at work? Has she realized I followed her home last night and know where she lives?
“Summer,” I whisper, my voice laced with desperation. “Where are you?”
Determined to wait and watch, I settle back, my eyes never straying far from the entrance of her home. The silence is suffocating, only interrupted by the occasional distant howl of a siren or the rustle of leaves in the wind.
Restlessness gnaws at me like a ravenous beast, urging me to take action.
The road is quiet, not many cars passing and no kids playing out on the streets. After an hour of sitting here wondering if Summer is even in her quiet house with no signs of movement, no lights turning on, or the shadow of her passing the window, I narrow my eyes and climb out of the car. Shutting the door quietly, I scout the area but find it still. The sun is setting, twilight falling over the neighborhood as I approach her house, walking up the garden path to peek in the big bay window at the front.
All seems quiet. I really don’t think she came back here after she fled from me. Probably a wise choice, given my black mood.
Glancing over my shoulder again, I pull the lockpick set out of the side pocket of my combat pants. You’ll never know when you’ll need them. Jumping over the low gates at the top of the driveway, which leads to her garage and garden, I cross over to the back door, nodding my approval at the standard lock. Slipping the pick in, I work my magic, and within a few minutes, the lock clicks over. With a satisfied smile, I reach for the handle and pull it down, opening the door and crossing over the threshold of her private space.
The smell hits me like a wave, the scent of her perfume lingering. The air is thick and heavy inside, sealed up while she was at work. I stand for a moment, taking in my surroundings. The living room is tidy, with a few personal touches - photos on the wall, a vase of flowers on a small table, and a cozy-looking armchair in the corner. I imagine Summer curled up there, reading a book, her legs tucked beneath her.
Moving through the house, my steps silent, taking in the paintings on the walls, the books on the shelves. Everything feels intimate as if I’m intruding on something precious. But I can’t stop. I need to know her.
Upstairs, I pause outside her bedroom door, my heart racing. The door is closed, and I can hear nothing from within. Taking a deep breath, I push it open.
The room is dark, the curtains still drawn. But even in the dim light, I can see the bed, the clothes thrown over a chair in the corner, and her perfume more potent here.
Stepping closer to the bed, I see a photo frame on the nightstand. With a sense of trepidation, I reach out and pick it up.
It’s a picture of her and another man; his arm wrapped possessively around her waist. My blood boils at the sight of it, jealousy and anger mingling in a potent cocktail.
Who the hell is he? Why does he get to touch her like that?
My grip on the photo frame tightens until the glass cracks beneath my fingers. The sound startles me out of my dark thoughts, and I quickly set the frame back down, turning my attention to the dresser. Crossing over, I pull open the top drawer and see her underwear in neat piles. Smiling, I pull out a pair of light pink cotton panties and check the size. Making a mental note so that I can surprise her with lingerie in the future without insulting her either way, I drop the panties on the top of the dresser and pull out a bra, checking the size on that as well. Remembering her soft tits in my hands last night, it’s all the incentive my cock needs. She is curvy and gorgeous. I want to bury my dick between her tits and thrust until I come all over her face.
Groaning, I unzip my fly and pull my stiff cock out. Fisting it, I pump a few times, Looking at my reflection in the mirror as I do so. Picking up the panties, I sniff them, feeling my cock grow harder against my palm.
She smells so good, so sweet.
