He likes to scare me, see. So he’ll play with my pussy, make me come, and when my world is spinning from the orgasm he gave me, he’ll circle my virgin hole with his thumb.
I jerk and moan, “No.”
He chuckles and says, “Fuckyes.”
“You c-can’t.”
“I can.”
I try to sit up straight and untangle my legs from his, but he widens his thighs and grabs my throat, keeping me pinned in place, helpless and drugged. “Why are you… Why are you obsessed with c-choking?”
“I’m obsessed with you,” he says, chuckling again, making my heart skip a beat. “And the fact that every time I cut off your air even a little bit, I can fucking feel your pussy fluttering on my hand and that hole of your tightening up.”
Shame burns every inch of me. “No, you don’t.”
“Yeah, I do, baby.”
Shame burns even harder and I try to move his hand away. “Stop.”
He stops moving his thumb, keeping it poised at my hole for a second before dipping in slightly. And when I say slightly, I mean very, very,very fucking slightly. So fucking slightly that it might not even be classified as a movement but to me, it’s my whole world. My whole universe. “Say yes and I’ll stop.”
“Say yes to w-what?”
“Say yes to letting me fuck your juicy little pussy that loves it when I choke your throat a little too much, with my dick,later,” he explains. “And I won’t stick my finger in itnow.”
God, it sounds so good. It sounds so crazy. It sounds like everything I want to hear for the rest of my life. I clench my eyes shut, moaning. “It’s so… Do you realize how twisted this sounds?”
He yanks my neck up with his fingers, squeezing it to the point where breathing becomes difficult, and growls, “And you don’t thinkthisis twisted?”
I clutch his arm, trying to get him to loosen the pressure. “Shepard, y-you?—”
“You being a cock tease out there,” he cuts me off, still keeping the pressure. “Making me lose my fucking head like you don’t love doing that to me, and then dancing in my lap like you wouldn’t dance better with my dick in your hole every single night.” Keeping his thumb in position, he smacks my core and I swear, I feel drops of my cum flying everywhere, landing on my shaking thighs. “And you know why that is, don’t you? It’s because she knows. That pretty, little,tight as fucking fuckkitty knows she belongs to me. She knows she’s mine. Every single strawberry-tasting inch of you is fuckingmine.” If anything, he increases the pressure and a choking sound erupts out of me and God, my pussy juices up even more. “And the more you deny it, my bad little whore, the more it’s going to piss me off, and when I get my hands on you, I’m going to make you regret every single second you chose to torture me.Every single secondyou chose to make me wait instead of giving me what we both want.”
“There’s s-still… time. S-seven days…”
“Ah, that. My bad,” he murmurs, finally loosening his grip and letting me breathe. He also takes his thumb away from my hole, as if uncocking a loaded gun, before continuing, “But if you’re counting, there’s only three days left.”
Three days.
Where did the time go? How did I not realize how many days are left? Actually, I know how. It’s because he’s right. Iamhaving too much fun. I’m having too much fun being watched. I’m having too much fun being the center of his attention. I love teasing him, making him lose his mind. I love that he shows up at the coffee shop first thing in the morning before going to practice. And I love that he stays until the end of my shift at the club and finishes his day with me.
I love it because I’ve never had that. I love it because I never will. There’s no future here. For more reasons than one.
In any case, that’s howIfinish my day. His day lasts longer than that. Because after I leave the club to go home, he goes home with me.
I catch a ride with one of the girls and he follows me in his truck. And then I climb into my bed and he follows me in there too. Needless to say, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t close the window like he had asked me to that first day. Even though, he had an AC delivered to my apartment the very next day. Two ACs. One for me and one for Snow. Yes, he did. And not only that they wouldn’t leave without installing them. After a long argument, I caved in because Snow was home and she was so happy to see we wouldn’t be dying of heat and I couldn’t tell her the truth. So I pretended that I got a bonus and splurged on the ACs. I did have words with him but they didn’t make any difference.
Anyway, so maybe that’s another one of my crimes, not locking him out of my room. But I know why I didn’t. Because knowing he’s out there, that he’s watching me, that he could climb in if he wanted to, makes me feel safe.
It’s crazy. It’s insane. He snuck into my room while I was sleeping. He stole my unopened letters. Granted they were all overdue bills, but still. He’s blackmailing me. If I don’t quit my job in the next three days, he’s going to make sure I never work in this town again, and I know he’ll do it. He’s unhinged enough, toxic enough to do that. But then this whole thing is crazy and insane and toxic. Just like everything about him.
Just like the fact that when he’s in my room, he never touches me. Not once. I know because I’d feel it. Even though I try to wait for him to climb in but can’t because I pass out the second my head hits the pillow, I know if he did touch me, I’d wake right back up. First because my body wouldn’t let me sleep through it; I’ve been crazy about this man since I was twelve and mybody wouldn’t betray me like that. Second, he wouldn’t want me sleeping either. He’d want me all squirmy and reluctant and fucking turned on out of my mind. Because I know he likes to scare me. I know he likes to push me to the razor’s edge of desire.Hisdesire.
So he could touch me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leaves his signs behind for me to find: creases on the throw pillow of my armchair telling me he sat there; my favorite heels that I usually just leave by the side of the bed, arranged neatly by my closet even though I know he has a love-hate relationship with them because I’ve run away from him in them; my little outfits that I leave in a heap in a hurry to go to sleep are in the laundry hamper. It's so strangely crazy and… adorable that I had to ask him about it one day.
Jupiter
You know, you should really stop following me home. It’s starting to look like stalking.
