Page 10 of Stalker

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as if she wanted to reply, but didn’t quite make contact with the keys. So I prompted her again.

Is it the thrill? Or the fear?

Her chest rose and fell and then her fingers danced on the keys. My heartbeat sped up in my chest when I realized she was replying to me.

Aren’t they the same thing?

I smirked at her reply and watched her on the camera as she chewed on her bottom lip while waiting for me to answer. As she waited, she clicked on my profile, like she was looking to see who I was or what I looked like, but my profile was fake. It was a ghost, it only existed for her and it was blank other than my location, which was two towns over from where we were currently. I wanted her to know I wasn’t some ghost on the internet, but a man who was close enough to followthrough with what I said. I replied, drawing her attention back to the message window.

I suppose.

What’s your favorite part of being chased?

She swallowed and looked back outside through the unobscured glass and then back to her screen.

Who are you?

I grinned and typed out my reply, knowing eventually her good sense would kick in through the haze of arousal.

A shadow. A nobody.

Her reply came instantly.

How are you messaging me? This looks different from other messages that come through.

I ignored her first question and asked what I was more interested in.

Do you get messages through this site often?

A few times.

From men wanting to chase you through a haunted house and fuck you into the wall?

I shouldn’t have noted specific things about her, but I enjoyed the way the fear of being watched bloomed over her skin like a shy blush. Was she shy? Or did she redden from the excitement of it all?

They all offer pretty lines and good times in varying forms.

She chewed on her fingernail, glancing around her again like she felt my eyes on her. Fuck, I was rock hard and only had twenty lines of communication in so far. But it was the first time she’d spoken to me, even if it was through chat, and I hungered for more.

You don’t want pretty lines, do you?

No. I don’t want anything pretty.

So tell me then, what draws you to being chased?

Are you some freak emptying my bank accounts while distracting me?

Answer me.

She was trying to avoid the question with humor and distraction, but she didn’t realize how tenacious I could be.

Especially for her.

I dream of it. Every time I close my eyes, I dream of being hunted. So I guess I’m trying to figure out why.

I didn’t reply as I watched her while her words danced around inside of my brain. She dreamed of being hunted, but why would the girl with the perfect life randomly uproot herself to the middle of nowhere and long for something so dark? And what did it say about me that I wanted to give thatto her?

So, are you on this site looking for your hunter?

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