Page 14 of Stalking Christmas

“Apparently not. It must be the great service.” A smirk lifts the corners of his mouth, and my heart rate speeds up. This guy is stupidly hot, like the cover of a magazine, would spend my last dollar to buy it hot. It irritates me that he’s getting this kind of reaction out of me. “The blonde from last night on the stage, is she a friend of yours?”

My eyebrow rises with his question, and I feel my grip tightening on my notepad.“Daisy, her name is Daisy, and yeah, she’s a friend and my roommate. What about her?”

He pushes his laptop away, and places both of his elbows on the top of the table. The sleeves of his tight-fitting knit top are pulled back to the elbow, and I get a glimpse of all the delectable ink he has, and how muscular his forearms are. Shit, I hope I’m not drooling like some prepubescent teenager. That’s all I need to top this miserable fucking day with, acting a fool in front of a hot as fuck guy.

“She seeing anyone?” His question slams into me like a slap, and I can feel the heat on my neck and cheeks rising. Oh my fucking God, he’s into her and not me; how embarrassing! It feels like a boulder the size of the state of Texas has just crushed me. For a moment, I want to tell him that she’s involved with someone, just to see if his interest will sway my way, because of how devastated I feel, but then anger blazes within me. Who the fuck cares if he’s not into me? He’s not the last man on the planet, and he’s probably an entitled rich prick.

I’m furious with myself for placing myself in a situation where I now feel less than. Yes, I’m attracted to him, and he’s incredibly drool-worthy, but I refuse to act a fool for any man, and I’m no one’s second choice, fuck that shit. He’s not interested in me, his loss. “Not to my knowledge, but you’ll have to ask her yourself. What can I get you to eat?”

“Just the special, and I will. She working at the club again tonight?” He questions, leaning his large frame back against the booth seat, and crossing his arms over his broad chest. My eyes follow all of the movements, and when I meet his eyes again, the bastard smiles at me, showing me perfect white teeth. “More coffee too. Don’t spit in my food,Chrissy.“ He leans forward and reads my name off my tag with exaggeration, and I’m irrationally irritated by the way it sounds coming across his lips.

Does the stinging from my cuts on your perfect ass turn you on every time you move, sweet little temptation? We both know you like the pain.

The phone almost slips from my hand as my head pivots up, and my eyes search the diner for males with their phones in their hands, or glancing in my direction. Other than old Frank, who’s a hundred years old and only has one working leg, no one is even looking at me.Jesus fuck, this guy is super creepy. Is he watching me right now?My eyes return to Nic, who is consumed with his laptop, with no phone in sight.Could it be him? Could he be my masked stalker?I discard the thought almost immediately, because he’s not interested in me; Daisy is the one who has caught his eye. If it were him, he would have been in her room last night, not mine.

The fact of the matter is, there is some deranged, creepy, mask-wearing fucker out there, who knows a bunch of very intimate details about me, and what I fantasize about, and they know that I enjoyed what they did to me. If I’m being truthfulwith myself, I would allow him to ravish me again in the same way, or worse. I enjoyed the depravity, the inability to fight back, and to have all my choices taken from me. I’d never admit that out loud, but inside my head, where it’s safe, I can’t lie to myself.

When I bring Nic his food, he mutters,“thanks,”in a deep voice, without looking up at me, his fingers flying across the keyboard of his laptop. When I endeavor to get a peek at what he’s working on, he shifts the laptop away from my eyesight, and grunts like a fucking Neanderthal at me. I should have spit in his food again; the thought rips through me with annoyance. God, this guy couldn’t be less into me. There’s definitely a better chance that old Frank is the masked stalker than this guy.

Do you want to play a game, my sweet temptation?

Is this asshole for real? Does he think this is all a game?I start typing out a message, telling him where he can go and shove himself, but before I can hit send, I change my mind. Maybe I can get some answers into who this psycho is, and how dangerous he is.

You want me to play along with your sick games, I need answers to my questions, otherwise, go fuck yourself.

I peek in Nic’s direction from below my lashes, hopeful that I’ll see him with his phone out, only to be crushed, when the fucker is typing away and no phone is in sight. A message immediately pops up in response to mine.

You’re not really in a position to bargain with me, little temptation. Shall I remind you that I can get to you wherever and whenever I want? I’ll humor you, though, and give you two questions if you play along. Choose wisely, but first, you humor me.

Touch yourself over your clothes behind the counter. Rub that sweet little pussy and make yourself drip while everyone else is having breakfast and only wishing they could taste you.

How do I know you’ll answer my questions if I play along? For all I know, you could refuse after I’ve done what you’ve asked.

Take a risk and find out. You’re a brave girl.

I quickly glance around, checking if anyone is watching me, and position myself further behind the counter, bending my knees so I can obscure what my fingers are doing, as I rub them in circles over my jeans against my needy clit. His words and demands have already got me dripping, and soaking my panties. I know this is brazen and wanton of me, but a part of me wants to see how far he’ll go with it. After a few seconds, I’m already frustrated, the material of my jeans is too thick and cumbersome, and I can’t seem to apply enough pressure to my throbbing clit. I dart another glance around the diner to see if anyone is watching me, and how close Dolores is, before slipping my fingers down the front of my pants below my apron, and underneath the band of my panties, and use them against my needy clit until a shudder runs through me. Fuck, it won’t take long for me to explode, this all has me worked up. Am I really going to make myself cum right here, with all these people eating not more than a few feet away? The phone vibrates in my hand, and I stare at it as I apply more pressure to my clit, my breath becoming raspy, and my fingers being soaked in my arousal.

Naughty little temptation. Ask your question.

I typed one-handed, not quite ready to stop, as I bring myself closer and closer to release.

Who are you? What do you want from me, and are you going to kill me?

You only get two questions, little temptation. If you want more, you have to earn them, like a good girl.

I’m an admirer, fixated on you. A predator hunting his pretty prey. As for what I want, that’s simple: you. I want every part of you, from your beating heart to that sexy ass and that pretty pussy. I want to consume you.

I read his words, and rather than terrifying me, they push me over the edge, and I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek to stifle the sound of my orgasm, as it rushes through my body like electricity zapping through a live wire.Who says shit like that, that they want to consume you?Some part of my rational mind knows this is a dangerous game that I’m playing, along with someone who is more than a few apples short of a bushel, but the other part of me doesn’t seem to care.

How do I earn more questions?

Head to ‘the hole’ after your shift at the diner is done. Go to the last booth at the end in the back. It will be marked with an ‘x’ on the door. Strip naked, put on the silk blindfold, and press your sexy ass into the hole. If you obey and please me, I’ll give you two more questions, my sweet little temptation.

How will I know it’s you and not some other man? Anyone could be there and touch me.

No one will touch you but me, little temptation. The last man that did, you currently have his severed hands buried in your backyard.

Holy shit! It was him that sent the severed hands that I painstakingly froze my ass off to bury in the backyard. Who was the last man to touch me? Whose hands did this fucker cut off? I’m utterly terrified, and yet also turned on at how murderous and insane he is. I remove my cum-soaked fingers from my pants and wipe them on my apron, my whole body feeling flushed and languid, now that I have orgasmed.

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