They were supposed to be into sleeping around, ghosting, giving you half-ass sex.
Not gripping you by the roots of your hair and demanding you shop for baby cribs online.
I ignored the twinge in my breasts, with their heavy, swollen feeling. Thatmustbe because my period was coming soon.
And there was no way to stop it!
No way to prevent what was coming.
I had never really thought about having kids.
When I was in my graduate program a professor had warned me not to ever have kids or I wouldn’t be taken seriously as a professional.
So I had never ever considered they were a possibility.
But now. . .
I didn’t want to think about it. I refused to think about the possibility that this fucking unhinged lunatic had gotten me pregnant.
Every day he practiced--went to the Steelblades rink or trained outside at Ashgrove manor or downstairs in the most modern room in the whole mansion—a fully-equipped gym with massive, shiny new machinery, all to bulk him up even further, as if he needed any more ability to bully and control me.
And I was required to be at every practice.
I sat impatiently in the gym a few days before the season opener, trying to ignore Gabriel and do some research, but it was impossible.
He still hadn’t given me my laptop back, so I was forced to go old school and take notes with a pen and notebook.
“You’d learn more about psychopaths by studying me,” Gabriel said, planting his legs on either side of my chair and looming over me.
His heavy cock brushed by my chest and I wanted to scoot away, but I was afraid he’d take it out and force me to choke on it in front of everyone.
“Then what could I do to break your fixation on me?”
“Nothing,” he smirked, his lips on my throat, nipping the soft skin with increasingly hard bites until I let out of a soft yelp of distress.
“I could get so much more work done with my laptop,” I said, trying to force down the heat that blazed between my legs.
“You don’t need that. All you need is me.”
Pretty impressive that Gabriel was able to force all these other guys to go without cellphones for weeks on end. Even the new athletic trainers sent by the Steelblades.
The lure of celebrity superstardom must be pretty powerful.
Unless. . . he hadn’t.
What if. . .one guy still had a phone. . .
After all, they still seemed to be informed about the latest local news. Theories had started to swirl around the killings, and people had even started to speculate the same thing.
Serial killer
I tried to unobtrusively scan the room, see whose sweatpants had a telltale bulge.
But I felt a hard hand connect with my cheek, just enough for a little pop of pain, before Gabriel’s fingers bit down on my chin.
“Who do you think you’re looking at?” he snarled. “Look at me.”
“Psycho! I’m not looking atanyone. You’re just a jealous lunatic!”
