Page 9 of Hunted to the Altar
She slipped through the front door of her building, the heavy metal frame clanging shut behind her. I lingered outside, watching the window of her apartment until the light flickered on.
I waited an hour, letting the building settle into silence. When I finally moved, it was with the practiced ease of a thief. The lock on the back entrance gave way after a few seconds, and I slipped inside, my footsteps noiseless on the worn stairs. Walking that path to her place that had worn itself into my memory.
Standing outside her apartment, I allowed myself a momentto savor the anticipation. My fingers brushed over the lock, and with a deft twist of my tools, the mechanism clicked open. I stepped inside, closing the door softly behind me.
Her scent hit me first—soothing lavender mixed with the warmth of her skin. It wrapped around me, intoxicating and familiar. I moved through the space like a ghost, my eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the closed curtains. By the door, her shoes were neatly lined up, and her bag was slung over the back of a chair. Everything about her apartment spoke of someone trying to change. She was finally putting order to the chaos of their life.
It just took me breaking in to motivate her to live cleaner, which was laughable because I enjoyed finding her panties on the floor. What better way to slip them into my pocket as a souvenir of my visit?
The living room was sparse but carefully arranged, a reflection of her effort to create stability. A throw blanket was draped over the arm of the couch, its texture worn but comforting. I traced the edge with my fingers, imagining the nights she’d spent curled beneath it, trying to fend off the ghosts of her past. A half-read book sat on the coffee table, its pages slightly dog-eared. I picked it up, noting the creased spine, and wondered if she read to escape or to remind herself there was a world beyond the shadows.
I found her in the bedroom. She was curled on her side, the blanket pulled up to her chin. Her face was peaceful in sleep, the tension I’d seen earlier smoothed away. For a moment, I just watched her, my breath shallow as I took in every detail. The soft curve of her lips. The way her lashes fanned against her cheeks. She looked so small, so breakable, and yet I knew the strength she carried.
I stepped closer, my hand hovering over the edge of the blanket. I could touch her, just for a second. She wouldn’t wake. But I held back, my fist clenching as I forced myself to retreat.
But withdrawing wasn’t enough. I needed more—something tangible to remind me of her when I wasn’t here, watching her. My gaze swept the room, landing on her dresser. I moved toward it slowly, savoring the quiet, the intimacy of being in her space.
My fingers trailed over the objects she’d left there: a bracelet, a small bottle of perfume, a hair tie. The bracelet gleamed faintly in the dim light, a delicate chain with a charm shaped like a star. It was too much to take, too obvious. Instead, I slipped the hair tie into my pocket, my pulse quickening at the thought of carrying a piece of her with me. The scent of her lingered on my fingertips as I picked up the perfume bottle, debating whether to take it, but I placed it back carefully. Not yet.
And then, my eyes landed on the drawer—the one slightly ajar where the faintest hint of lace peeked out. My breath hitched, the hunger in me growing sharper, darker. I slid the drawer open slowly, revealing its contents: delicate scraps of fabric, soft and intimate. Her underwear. It was wrong—every part of me knew it—but the wrongness only made it sweeter.
I reached in, my fingers grazing the silk and lace. I hesitated only a second before slipping a pair into my pocket beside the hair tie, the weight of both anchoring my obsession. It wasn’t enough, but it would have to be for now.
Before I left, I returned to the bed. She stirred slightly, her brow furrowing as if she sensed something was wrong. I froze, watching as she settled again, her breathing evening out. My gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before I stepped closer to the bed.
I crouched beside her, close enough to feel the faint warmth radiating from her skin. Her lips parted slightly, a soft sigh escaping as she shifted in her sleep. I could stay here forever, watching her, memorizing the way she looked in this moment—peaceful, unguarded, mine.
My cock hardened as I moved a few loose strands of her curly hair out her face. She drooled on her silk pillowcase. Her bonnet askew on her head. My woman was a wild sleeper. I rubbed my throbbing dick through my pants, wishing I could slide deep inside of her.
But it would probably wake my sweetheart up, and I didn’t want that. I just needed a small release. I hadn’t touched another woman since I laid eyes on Nina.
A little touching wouldn’t hurt.
I ran a light finger down her cheek, watching as she slowly inhaled. Her fragrant breath wafted over my face. I took my other hand and pulled my cock out of my pants. I imagined her crying out, asking for me to fuck my baby inside of her.
I fucked my hand faster as I slowly stood over her sleeping form. I bit my hand as my orgasm raced up my spine, and I aimed my cock at her face. My cum sprayed all over her lips. I was a great shot.
I shuddered from the force of my orgasm, surprised she didn’t stir.
I panted, my chest heaving as I stood towering over her sleeping form, blissfully unaware that I marked her as mine. And that was exactly what she was. I shoved my cock back in my pants only slightly less worked up than when I stepped foot inside of her home.
I needed to leave. Instinct warned me I was going to get caught if I didn’t head back out. Of course, the unsuspecting woman I referred to as my own rolled over.
My breath caught as I froze in place, waiting for her to settle.
She muttered something underneath her breath and licked the cum off her lips before settling again. It made my heart beat wildly in my chest until she relaxed.
I stood, basking in her scent and presence a little while longer before I had to go. Unfortunately, my phone didn’t rest, and the vibration had my woman’s brows furrowing.
I hightailed out of there with the goodies in my pocket as a souvenir.
The night enveloped me after I finally forced myself to leave, her stolen possessions pressed tightly in my fist inside my pocket. Every part of me wanted to turn back, to keep watching, to keep taking. My need for her wasn’t just physical—it was primal, consuming. I wanted her woven into every corner of my life, her presence a constant, her breath the air I breathed.
Nina didn’t know it yet, but her life no longer belonged to her. It belonged to me. And I wasn’t letting go.
Never.
CHAPTER FOUR
