Page 13 of Stalked By the Hockey Player

We spend hours together, every moment I'm with her not enough.

When Emila is at school, I'm in misery.

My mind races with thoughts of her.

Her laugh, her voice, her taste, her soft skin.

I can't concentrate on anything else.

The bell rings, and the professor walks into the lecture hall.

I listen to his words, but my mind is miles away at the high school where my baby attends classes.

All I can think of isher.

How her bright red lipstick stands out against her pale skin.

How her underwear rubs against her ass as she walks, and I want to tear them off.

How every time she bites her lip, my cock throbs.

I fantasize about burying myself inside her until the end of time.

My phone buzzes, and I see it's her.

A simple text message reads:

Thinking of you.

My heart beats erratically.

My fingers tremble as I text back:

Me too.

She's mine.

I can't believe she's really mine.

I pick her up from school like usual, but I'm too wound up today to trust myself if I touch her.

She gives me a questioning look. She's used to me kissing her as soon as I see her.

My hands tighten on the steering wheel. I can't right now, dammit. I'll lose control. My obsession with her has only grown. We'll never make it out of the parking lot if I touch her now.

Our ride home is silent as I struggle for control.

When we get inside, Emila finally breaks the silence.

"I missed you," she whispers.

And I finallly allow myself to snap. "Fuck, I'm missed you too, baby. So much."

I pull her into a deep embrace.

Her breasts pressed against my chest.

Her body molded to mine.

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