Page 8 of Stalked By the Wrestler

"You," I whisper back, unable to tear my gaze from his piercing blue eyes. The corners of his mouth twitch upward in a triumphant smile before his lips crash against mine in a kiss that’s fierce and demanding. Our bodies meld together as if they were crafted from the same molten fire. His touch ignites me, sets every nerve ending aflame with an urgency that demands satisfaction.

We stumble into his dressing room, hands fumbling at fabric as we strip away the barriers between us. Every touch from Cedric is both a spark and kindling, fueling a burning desire that threatens to consume us both. He lifts me effortlessly onto the vanity counter, muscles rippling under my hands.

The roughness of his voice fills the room as he declares ownership in words laced with explicit promise. Each syllable is an assertion of his want, his need—his obsession for me.

And me? I’m lost in him, willingly caught in the tempest of his passion.

And I want to show him just how much I want him too. So, I slip off the vanity and fall to my knees before him.

I take his huge cock in my hand look at him as I lick my lips.

Cedric's breath hitches, his electric gaze locked on mine, burning with that relentless intensity that both scares and excites me. "Fuck," he groans, the word a low, guttural rumble as his fingers tighten in my hair.

I tease him, running my tongue along the length of him, savoring the sharp intake of his breath, the way his muscles tense like he's fighting to keep control. "Tell me what you want," I murmur against him, my voice a deliberate stroke of provocation.

"Don’t tease me, sweetheart," he manages, each word clipped, desperate. His control is slipping, his usual composure frayed at the edges by raw desire.

With a wicked grin, I take him deeper, watching as his blue eyes darken with lust. He swears under his breath, his hands guiding my movements with an urgency that sends sparks of pleasure radiating through me.

The room is filled with the sounds of our heavy breathing and the soft wet noises as I worship him with my mouth. It's messy and desperate and utterly perfect.

Suddenly, Cedric pulls me up, an almost feral growl escaping him. "Enough," he pants. "I need to be inside you. Now."

He doesn’t bother with further words as he positions me back onto the vanity counter. His hands roam over my body with possessive urgency as he aligns himself at my entrance. The moment he enters me, we both gasp—me from the sheer intensity of feeling so full of him, and him from the enveloping warmth that greets him.

Cedric sets a punishing rhythm that leaves no room for thought, only sensation—the clatter of my heart against my ribcage, the slick sound of skin on skin, and the low groans that spill from Cedric's lips each time he thrusts into me. He moves with a single-minded focus that tells me this is exactly where he needs to be.

"Look at me," he commands, and I open my eyes to meet his intense gaze. There's something wildly exhilarating about being caught in his storm right now, about being the very center of Big Ced’s universe.

His movements grow more desperate, erratic as we both near our climax. "Say it again," he grits out between thrusts.

"You," I breathe out, my voice breaking with the waves of pleasure that threaten to engulf me. "I belong to you."

That’s all it takes for him to lose himself with a loud groan that echoes in the small room. He collapses against me, both of us slick with sweat and other evidence of our lovemaking.

After a moment to catch our breaths, Cedric lifts his head to look at me again, something vulnerable flickering across his features this time. "You're mine," he says quietly—a statement rather than a question—a fierce declaration wrapped in a whisper.

Yes, I’m his.

But am I losing myself in him?

CHAPTER

SEVEN

Judy

I scroll mindlessly through Cedric's phone, waiting for him to finish up in the ring. It's a habit, him handing me his phone before a match, like I'm holding onto a piece of him while he's out there being 'Big Ced.'

But this time, my thumb stumbles across an album tucked away, and what I see has my heart thudding—a gallery full of…me.

My photos from social media, ones I don't remember sharing with him, some I've only shared with close friends.

"Damn," I mutter, the warmth of affection cooling into a shiver of unease. How did he get these? Why?

The roar of the crowd announces Cedric's victory before he struts back, all sweat and testosterone. I tuck his phone into my purse and plaster on a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes.

"Great match!" I say, but my words are a touch too bright, too fluttery.

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