Page 19 of Protecting Player #73
Working out in the condo building's gym has taken the edge off my sexual tension since Brea said yes to moving in with me yesterday. Now, I’m debating ways to follow her around town.
Her phone calendar shows that she has errands to run this morning, as well as a planned lunch date with her best girlfriend, Adeline Strand. They’ve known each other for years, and even though Brea is close with Thor, Adeline is like her platonic soulmate–from what I’ve read in her old diaries, anyway. The two are close, and I won’t do anything to jeopardize that.
After a quick shower in the gym, I get dressed, then check my phone to see if Brea’s awake and moving yet. The cameras in my condo show her in the kitchen mixing the protein shake I left for her as she reads my note. The cute smile on her face makes my dick twitch and need ravages my blood. Watching her move around her new home fills me with pride. One day, I’ll buy her the house of her dreams. For now, we’ll make this work.
Once she enters the bedroom, I stop watching. Even with her excited expression towards my obsession and desire to surveil her, I’m still sane enough to know she needs privacy. Though she has no idea that I have cameras in every room of the house.
Gathering my stuff, I enter the lobby, leave my bag with the doorman after a friendly greeting, and head across the street to the coffee shop, which I’ve frequented every morning since its opening. Waiting for Brea is torture in its purest form. I’m anxious to lay eyes on her again, but the anticipation is all worth it.
After ordering, I sit outside, the overcast day typical for the beginning of fall in Portland, waiting until she emerges from my building. With the color of the sky, I half expect it to start drizzling, but when Brea finally walks through the glass doors across the street, I swear the rain clouds part and allow the sun to shine properly. Rays of light cast down on her like a beacon.
She checks her phone. I imagine she’s looking for a text from me but will find none before she begins walking in the direction of the downtown core. We’re minutes from some of the most popular shopping centers in the city.
Her calendar indicates that she has to stop at the post office to pick up some filming equipment. She’s also been looking at trading in her cell phone for a newer model; little does she know, I’ve already ordered one for her. And if I had to guess, she won’t resist going into this new dress shop near the café where she’s having lunch with her friend.
Brea might not realize it, but to me, she’s predictable. Knowing her actions before she does gives me an incomparable high.
She takes a leisurely stroll, and I discover she enjoys window shopping. When she stops to admire a tennis bracelet in the window of a jewelry store, I take note of which one and store it away for later.
As she continues her walk, kittens in the window of a pet store catch her attention, and I half expect her to go in and come out with one, but she simply draws little circles on the glass, allowing the felines to chase her movements before carrying on.
With the post office in sight, she’s no longer distracted and enters, returning a few minutes later with a bag in her hand containing a small box. She steps to the side, so she doesn’t block the sidewalk, and I watch as she reads something on her phone that dampens her happiness.
Anger consumes me at whoever has ruined her day. My bet is on Thor. He wasn’t pleased when she left last night, and now that he’s had time to get used to it, he’s probably decided to become a keyboard warrior and harass her.
Grabbing my phone, I send her my own message. I had planned to remain silent today so I could bask in watching her go through her day, but not when she’s upset.
Me: Morning pup, have you headed out yet?
It takes me only seconds to get a response.
Pup: Yes. Running errands now before meeting Adeline. Just saw the cutest kittens.
Me: Yours is cuter.
Watching closely for her response, I’m not disappointed when she flames red. If I were closer, I bet I’d see her pupils dilate with lust, too.
Pup: Tate! You can’t say things like that.
Me: Why? Someone reading your messages?
Pup: No…
Me: Then it’s perfectly acceptable for me to tell you your pussy is the cutest, hottest, most delicious little kitten this side of the continent.
Pup: OML!
Me: You like it
Pup: I have to go now…
Me: Bet you're wet. Imagining my tongue sliding slowly through your lips, flicking my tongue across that tiny pearled clit before sucking until you’re screaming my name.
Keeping my eye on her, I analyze how her thighs rub together, the way she places a hand on her lower stomach. Notice the fluttering pulse in her throat, even from a distance.
Me: You’re turned on.
There’s no doubt about it.
