“Never. What’cha got?”
“Can you ping her location for me? I can’t find her.”
I heard him snicker and wished I could kick his teeth in for it, but I rolled my lip ring back and forth across the straw, letting him work his magic.“She’s in Brooksville.”
“Brooksville? What the hell is in Brooksville?”
“Looks like…”I heard him strumming keys on his computer.“She’s at a place called Little Tumblers Gymnastics. Been there for a while now.”
“Hmm…thanks, man. I’ll find you one with a nice rack.”
“You know me so well.”
I hung up the phone and left a generous tip for the lovely cafe owner, heading back to my car. My phone buzzed and I got excited for a second, thinking she was reaching out…until I realized Declan, being the honorable soul that he is, sent me the link to have direct access to her GPS location. I couldn’t tell if it was his subtle way of telling me to leave him the hell alone and stop asking for favors, or if he was activating bro code. Probably both, but I’m grateful, anyway. Now, the question is…do I wanna drive all the way to Brooksville?
I didn’t. I ended up sneaking into her apartment. I’m gonna blame her for this. She gave me the idea last night on the phone. What better way to see what she’s about than to snoop around all her personal things. Isn’t that what stalkers do? I gotta redeem myself,somehow. It was fairly easy getting into her door. We’re gonna have to fix that. I walked in and the place is immaculately clean. Open kitchen to my left that leads out into the living area. Her coffin is so much sexier in person. It’s against the back wall where a couch would probly be in a normal person’s apartment. There’s a small end table on either side, one with a lamp and one with a black candelabra, a half-empty mug of coffee, some snacks and a marked novel. I went and slid it off the table, opening it to the marked page and—damn, my girl is dirty. Whatisthis?! I felt the grin spread across my face and I gnawed on my lip with intrigue. If this is her fantasy, I’m so here for it. Please, God let there be a robin at my back door, or a black cat or…anything. I’ll do literally anything to talk her into this.
I set the smut back on the table and took a look around. She likes dark flowers. Noted. Pretty impressive shelf full ofdated literature. About the only thing that stands out and looks out of place to me is a couple of finger-painted pictures on her fridge. Wait—Little Tumblers Gymnastics—I’m an idiot. While she’s been over here thinking I’m gonna chop up her family, I’ve completely forgotten about them. I guess it is my fault that she thinks I’m that dark, but I’m honestly not. I’ve never, and would never, hurt a child. No matter what kind of order I’m given. I’ve gotta figure out how to make her see past everything I’ve been throwing at her. I’m only making myself look like a bigger asshole. That’s a sour ass feeling.
Feeling pretty confident about the fact that she’s not testing the box springs on Little Jimmy’s side of town, wherever that is…I slipped into her bedroom next. It looks about the way I imagined it would. Black everything. Very emo. Four post bed with a black lace canopy. I can just about imagine the way she’d look with every one of her limbs tied to this thing. I had to adjust the front of my jeans.
Easy, tiger.
About seven inches, she said. Decent girth. I’m still surprised at how quick she told on herself. I bet it’s in here, somewhere. I ran my finger down the top of her ebony dresser, smiling and testing a drawer. I shouldn’t have. If I thought staring too long at her bed was doing a number on my cock, then this is just torture…and maybe opening whichever one has her toys in it will result in a mess Bridget won’t be cleaning up…but one that’ll have Viper pissed enough to burn me alive for my sins. How do women fit this many pairs of underwear in such a tiny drawer? I’m dying to shove one of these into my pocket but…I’m not. I’ll earn that.
My eyes caught another drawer, slightly open on her nightstand and I grinned, feeling pretty damn positive I’ve struck gold this time. I walked over to it, sliding it open just a little and…jackpot.
Very predictable, Little Viper.
“Ohhh, you dirty, dirty girl…”
There’s a rosebud in here, I think I found her Girthmaster, a few small bullet vibes…an anal plug. Nipple clamps? Really? No judgment…whatsoever.Just a little unexpected. I see a cock ring I’m half-tempted to throw down her garbage disposal. There’s a shlong in here that has a set ofballs?! I don’t get it. Wait—it’s flat on the bottom.
This is fucking mountable.
I’m absolutely salivating, and my dick really hurts. I have a solid image of her riding this thing in that coffin, and I think I’m about to blow a hole through my jeans. I can’t take this shit anymore. I’ve reached my limit. Pulling out my phone, I shot her a text without even thinking.
Me: When I called it a Girthmaster I didn’t suspect that the accuracy would be more disturbing than what I do for a living. Shame shame, I know your name.
The little dots popped up almost instantly, and I smiled to myself like an ex-wife with a voodoo doll and a fresh box of pins.
Viper: Not in the mood Malek.
Sad face. Here I was having a jolly old time, and she had to go and spoil it. No matter. I bet this will fire her ass up. I pulled the monstrous rubber cock out and took a nice selfie with it, giving her my most charming smile, and making sure the dimple was on full display.
Me: *insert picture* Will this help?
Ikillmyself with my wit and charm. Har-har.
Ping.
Oh, goodie. She texted back. This is fun.
Viper: Cute. I see you still have no respect for my privacy. I didn’t clean that.
Mother Mary…my psycho kicked in and I couldn’t help myself. I brought it closer to my face.
Ping.
