Page 112 of Boys Who Taint

I swipe around her clit, circling it as fast as I can before sucking on it. I know how to please her. I can hear it from her moans, and it’s such a turn-on that I want nothing more than to eat her out every day for the rest of my life.

This pussy is the only pussy I ever want to taste, ever want to touch, ever want to fuck.

But we’ll get to that part soon enough.

My tongue swirls around her wetness, her moans making me hard again with ease. I could never have enough of her or the sounds she makes. I’m a man possessed with the idea of owning every inch of her, even the parts she keeps hidden.

Even the parts she’s too afraid to show anyone else.

I raise her higher, putting her thighs right up in my face so she smothers me, and her legs interlock behind my neck.

“Fuck yes. Squeeze me with your thighs,” I murmur.

She applies some pressure, blocking the blood supply to my neck, and the feeling is divine.

“Yes,” I say. “Choke me like I choked you.”

My hand slips up her belly to her tits so I can play with her taut nipples. She mewls from my touch, and I grin against her mound before sucking some more.

She doesn’t know all the ways I’ve studied her.

All the ways I’ve taught myself how to make love to a woman like her.

How meticulously I orchestrated all of this right under her nose.

She’s oblivious to it all.

Oblivious to my insatiable greed.

Oblivious to my stalker ways.

And I don’t ever intend to stop.

A yearago

With my notebook in hand,I watch her walk out the front door of Spine Ridge University, penning down the exact time and location. I have pages and pages full of notes. Which classes she has, when they start, when she’s done, who she talks to, who she likes, who she doesn’t. I write down everything she does, even the small get-togethers, so I can keep track of her activities.

I’m waiting.

Waiting for the perfect moment to introduce myself.

Waiting for that opportunistic time when she’s disheveled, distracted enough not to notice me sneaking into her life until we’re already threaded together too meticulously to ever be pulled apart again.

I’m obsessed.

Obsessed with this redheaded, talkative, bubbly girl who lights up any space she enters.

And all I want to do is watch her, study her, until I know every single inch of her skin by memory alone. Her voice haunts me. She’s never spoken to me, yet whenever she talks to her friends, I want to listen to her stories for as long as I can, hoping she doesn’t see me.

She’s not ready for me yet.

I’m too unhinged, too … consumed by the idea of making her mine.

And oh … will she be fucking mine.

There is noif, nobut, noperhaps, there is onlywhen.

And when the time comes, I will have her begging to come undone.

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