Page 19 of My Stalker, My Protector
Operating on animal instinct, I swipe my fingers through the mess she’s making around my cock and shove a trio of fingers into her mouth, groaning into her hair when she sucks them noisily, bouncing up and down on me one last time, as if determined to be a good girl and bring me over the edge of the cliff with her—and she does. I slam my hips upward and erupt, frothing into the very bottom of her pussy and begging my sperm to find her womb and make me the father of her child. Tie her to me forever.
“Cross your legs and lean back,” I grate against her temple. “Take it in, angel. Bank it.”
“Anything for Daddy,” she purrs, her head lolling back onto my shoulder, expression drowsy, body replete, and yet she still finds the energy to cross right leg over left, trapping my still spurting cock inside of her. And I scoop up her buns in my hands and tilt them up, not willing to let an ounce of my come drip out of her body, but there’s too much of it. Way too much. It drips down my wrists and her soft inner thighs, onto the upholstery of the seat. “I think we got most of it, baby,” I slur, sucker punched by the immense pleasure. “If anyone is tight enough to lock it in, it’s you. Goddamn, you can’t help but fuck the last drop out of me, can you? There’s nothing like you. Nothing on this earth.”
Finally, I’m sated and my body stops moving, hers limp on top of me. Somehow, I find enough energy to pull down her skirt to cover her come-soaked pussy, my arm dropping heavily again by my side. We struggle to breathe for several minutes, but soon we find a matching cadence and I turn her sideways, snuggling her into me, cradling her like the perfect treasure that she is. Mine. My girl. Always.
After a few minutes, she whispers, “I’m feeling a little dehydrated. I think I should go get some water.”
My instinct to provide is like a fastball to the gut. I should have anticipated that she would need water. Next time I will. “You stay here. I’ll go get you a bottle of water from the snack bar, okay?” Gently, I lift her off my lap and settle her into the neighboring seat, smiling at her when she sends me the most adorably drowsy grin. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“I’ll miss you,” she says quietly, reaching out to squeeze my hands. “Hurry.”
My heart is booming like someone is inside of me beating a drum. “Of course, I will.”
Backing out of the row, I keep my eye on her until I turn the corner and then I beeline for the snack bar, ignoring the voice in the back of my head warning me that I shouldn’t have left her alone…
7
Scout
As soon as Cash is out of sight, I scramble for my panties and drag them up my legs, moisture flooding into my eyes as I snatch up my purse, already eyeing the exit located in the front corner of the theater. Before I ran sprint down the empty back row, however, I realize there is a phone in the cup holder. Cash’s phone. He left it.
Without second guessing myself, I pick it up—and I run for my life.
Murmurs go up around me as I run as fast as possible, my attention locked on that glowing red sign. Exit. Exit. Exit. That’s all I want to do. Break out of this nightmare that seems to have swallowed me up like a giant whale.
Cash Jenner is my stalker.
I’m such a moron that I didn’t see it before now. I’m a naïveidiot.
All that ridiculous playacting, convincing me he was getting into the mindset of my stalker, when all along it was him. He must be laughing at me. I made it so easy for him to take what he wanted, in the twistedwayhe wanted. I handed him over my virginity and my trust on a silver platter, like the wide-eyed freshman that I am. He made me feel things that were scary and unexpected, but so consuming that I couldn’t stop absorbing, taking, giving him more.
All the while, he was my stalker.
The man who has been threatening to kill me for months if I evenlookat another man.
He’s deranged.
I’ve been looking over my shoulder every second of the day because of him.
Unbelievable. I have to call the police. I have to tell my brother. Now. Immediately.
So why don’t I?
Why do I sprint across the parking lot and across three lanes of traffic, instead, vanishing behind the gas station and furiously calling an Uber. One minute away, thank God. I’m covered in cold sweat, my sides heaving in and out. I’m shaking like a leaf. How is this happening? How could I fall head over heels for my stalker? Even now, when I think about the things he said to me, how I want to be preyed on, there’s a part of me that knows he was right.
That’s what scares me most of all.
I want to run away from him, but I also want to run toward him.
Allow him to drag the depraved urges out of my body. Make me his love and his toy.
I’m going to carry you in my arms around campus like a princess, then bang you like a whore.That growled promise continues to circulate around my head, over and over and over, but the one I should be focused on is the line that revealed him.
Scared or not, you’d suck it like one of those grape fucking popsicles you can’t get enough of.
He wouldn’t know that I basically live off popsicles unless he’s been watching me. I’ve never eaten one in front of him, as far as I know. He doesn’t follow me on social media, so he must be watching me from a backup account.