Page 36 of For Fillies and Monsters

Three dots pop up, and I wait, and wait. A reply never comes.

THIRTEEN

AUGUSTUS

February 15th, 2019

She’s sopale and soft, her skin miles of succulent peachy-cream temptation. The kind of temptation that drives even a sane man crazy.

And I am no sane man.

For five years, I’ve watched my girl grow from a broken, beaten-down victim to a powerful and irresistible force. She is like a temptress, learning to harness her emotions, her desires, and her strength against the world. Her spirit is that of a wild filly, untamed and unbreakable, even in the face of devastating circumstances.

It has not been easy for either of us. As I’ve traveled across states rodeoing, trying to survive the wrath of my older brother who sees me as both his savior and his prisoner, I am constantly torn away from her. But every time I come back and see her growth, it makes every day apart worth it.

I want to be there for her in every way that matters. But I also want her to have her own strength, identity, wants, and needs. Because when the time is right and I can finally emerge from the shadows to claim her, she will need every ounce of who she is to survive.

My love for her knows no bounds or logic. It is not easy or convenient; it is consuming and chaotic. She is the only one who can make me whole again, like the missing puzzle piece of my soul. And I know that when I finally have her completely, I will consume her entirely.

I love her enough to offer her freedom. For now.

She smiles, her face tipped toward the pale morning sky. Her cheeks stain a bright pink from the crisp, winter Colorado air, and I fight off a shiver. It’s fucking freezing here, and I’m man enough to admit I hate mountains and snow.

But I will go wherever she is.Always.

Stetson is dressed in nothing more than a long tattered t-shirt and pink underwear that peeks out from the hem of the shirt each time she shifts. Her full body presses against the railing of the deck, and I can see the peaks of her nipples straining against the fabric. My mouth waters with the need to suck them.

It’s a simple, private moment, similar to ones we’ve shared many times before—not meant to be sexy or arousing. But I nearly spill in my jeans. Every. Fucking. Time. Stetson just does that to me. I am a ravenous beast, and being this close to her, yet too far to feel her skin beneath my fingertips, is enough to drive me mad. I feel both peaceful and murderous, and it’s a heady cocktail.

I’m not a pervert—stalking an unsuspecting girl who is helpless to my dark intentions—this is my future wife I’m watching, the mother of my future children, the only pussy I will ever fuck again. I don’t care how long it takes.

I’ve spent years watching her, never interacting or contacting her, allowing her to grow up and enjoy life; well, enjoy life the best she can for someone with such bleak circumstances. She is becoming her own person: hard-working, vicious, quick-tempered, stubborn, empathetic, submissive in bed, anddominant in life—my perfect equal. Stetson is not my perfect equal because everything she ismatchesme, but because everything she is,is perfectly her, and there can’t be anything more right for me than that. There is no darkness too dark, no flaw too flawed. Stetson is the beginning and end of my story. And soon enough, I will be hers, too.

I don’t know when the right moment will come, but I know it’s not yet. She’s still lost and unhappy with everything and everyone around her. And I refuse to taint our memories together by taking advantage of her vulnerability. I see her growing stronger day by day, and I hold nothing against her for how she handles the shitty hand she’s been dealt.

I’m patient when it comes to waiting for my Little Filly because I know, someday, we will have it all.

I lean against the cool wall, my body enveloped in darkness as I watch her. I run a hand through my hair, the tight ringlets pulling with the motion, and breathe deeply, hoping against any sane hope that I might be able to tell what she smells like from here. I picture fresh-cut grass and lemons and something minty. I imagine what she will say to me when she finally sees me again.Will she remember me from all those years ago? Will she be excited or nervous?

Stetson is sinfully beautiful, her long hair slightly wavy and the warmest of blonde. It looks golden in the sunlight. Her full breasts and apple-shaped ass fit perfectly with her many curves, full hips, and soft tummy. Gray-green eyes the color of the coldest mountain steam, always sparkling and watchful, and her lips—those fucking lips—bright pink, no matter the time of day, are always so plump and pouty I know my dick could rest there without having to hold it.

No, she might not be traditionally beautiful, but that’s just one more reason I love her. She breaks all the societal norms. People hate that they love her, that they want her and want tobe like her.Not me.I’m hungry beyond a single rational thought for her—for even a scrap of her.

I’m not the only man drawn to her, not even close. And like I promised myself, I never intervene. Not right away, anyway.If she needs to fuck to find herself, who am I to stop her?I won’t give her a reason to resent me when we are old and gray. I want her to know I know every dark, deprived thing about her, and love her not despite it, but because of it.

I haven’t slept with a woman in five years, which feels less scary than it sounds. At first, it was a nearly impossible feat. But I’ve learned to embrace the pain, the torture of not having her. It’s my own version of adrenaline, my own reminder that I am alive and have a greater purpose. Stetson can do what she wants for now; I’ll just keep running my imaginary tally—one where she will pay for each cock she took and will beg me for her redemption. I am her Savior, all she has to do is let me into her heart.

Stetson is an especially dirty girl, far dirtier than any one person knows about her. Except for me, I know everything. I’ve watched guys make rules and then dole out punishments. I’ve watched boys chase her and scare her. I’ve watched guys edge her, spit on her, degrade her. I’ve seen it all and loved every dark, depraved thing she learned about herself.

Because they are the things that make up each of my fantasies. And Stetson is the star in every single one.

I will do all of those things to her. Not because she asks me to. Not even because I know she likes them. But because that is the kind of man I am and always have been. And I will replace every memory, every touch from another man with my own.

We are made for each other—me and my wild Little Filly.

Stetson shifts her head, her eyes tracing over the shadows where I’m currently pressed against the wall. She can’t see me,she never does; I’ve gotten far too good at blending into the darkness.

But she wants to be seen. Deep down. And I’m watching, always watching.

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