Page 2 of My Masked Stalker
A few more clicks before Ethan continues. “Inherited it from a grandmother a couple of years ago.”
I like what I’m hearing. I like it too much.
Emily’s still leaning against the counter, sipping on her drink, her eyes not focused on anything in particular. I wonder what she’s thinking about.
I start firing off commands I normally reserve for our contracts. Except this isn’t a contract. She isn’t a job. She’s mine.
“Get me her schedule, her connections. Clone her phone, if you can.”
“If I can?” The man sounds outraged, and a small part of me not distracted by Miss Lane’s tits takes pleasure in ruffling him up. “Are you kidding me right now?”
“Later,” I reply, tapping the earpiece one more time to disconnect the call.
A faint two-tone beep in my ear notifies me of incoming messages, but I ignore them for now, not tearing my eyes away from my quarry. When she flinches and looks at the countertop, I see her phone is lit up. Who’s calling her at this hour of the night? Better not be a fucking booty call.
She doesn’t look too happy about having whoever it is on the other side of the line either, waving her free hand animatedly, making slashing motions, and shaking her head. I swear I can almost see her rolling her eyes. Taking her phone away from her ear, she taps on the screen as she talks, putting whoever it is on speaker. No. She’s fixing her hair and standing up straighter—they switched to video.
Emily’s eyes widen, and her mouth opens at whatever is on the screen, her free hand coming up to the base of her neck. After a minute, she pulls her phone back and aims it at her chest, where I can see the faint outline of her nipples poking through the thin material of her white shirt. Is she aroused?
I growl when her hand travels down to cup one perfect breast, squeezing lightly. Is she fucking cybering with some douchebag? I don’t care who they are—they were dead themoment they called my girl up, and it doesn’t matter that she has no clue that she’s my girl yet.
Like the aftermath of a landmine explosion, I can’t tear my eyes away from that exploring hand, now caressing the skin above the waistband of her sweats. A quick glance at her face shows a woman on the verge of giving in and touching herself for the person on the other side. I’m torn between wanting to see her come unglued and wanting to be the only one who sees her like that.
In the end, my possessive nature wins. I never did share toys.
Two taps and Ethan’s back on the line.
“Did you find another hot chick in the building?” he asks irreverently.
“Can you shut down her phone’s connections?” I growl, not bothering to explain further. He knows how I get when I have a target in my sights. Single-minded and relentless, like a dog with a bone.
“Oh, sure, gimme a sec… Ah, fuck, I did not need to see that, man. It’s done.”
I hang up without another word, grinning at the confused expression on Emily’s face. She’s tapping her phone, shaking it, and even seems to turn it off and on. Finally, she throws it back onto the counter.
It’s for the greater good. As much as I want to see the face she makes when she comes, it’ll be because ofme. Not some idiot who treats her like a last resort on a Saturday night.
Emily clenches and unclenches her fists, then narrows her eyes and hops up onto the counter.
What is she doing?
With both hands now free, she leans back and cups her breasts, her eyes fluttering closed. She’s gonna give me a show anyway. When she slides her right hand under her waistband, Ibite my lip. A decent man would give her privacy. Good thing I’m not a decent man.
My blood rushes south when her mouth opens into a gasp I can imagine so vividly, I almost hear it. I can see her fingers moving underneath the fabric of her pants, moving in a way that can’t be mistaken for anything other than what it is—my naughty little kindergarten teacher is fucking herself on the kitchen counter, in plain view of anyone who might be looking from the building I’m spying on her from.
Growling, I tear open the front of my black cargo pants, letting my dick spring out into my gloved hand. I’ve had my eyes on this woman for less than thirty minutes, and my cock’s already pointing in her direction like an RPG round primed and ready to blow.
I squeeze the bottom of my shaft and shake it, still watching her through the crosshairs of the 110. Fuck, I don’t think I ever jerked off on the job either. But as Emily’s fingers pick up the pace, working her pussy where I can’t see, my arm gets a mind of its own, pumping my rod with a rough grip.
“You’re a naughty little slut, aren’t you, sweetheart?” I whisper. “Fucking yourself in front of the window for me.”
My breathing picks up with my effort, matching the way Emily’s chest rises and falls, her free hand squeezing her tits, pinching her nipples. In an impatient move, she pulls up her crop top, baring them to my sight through the SASS’s scope.
“Fuuuck, yes,” I growl. It’s too far and too dark to tell if her nipples are rosy or brown, but I know I want to paint them with my cum regardless. My balls tingle at the thought, and my ass clenches.
“Look at you, putting on a show for me, fingering that pussy. You want to make me come for you, don’t you, baby?” I know she can’t hear me, but in my head, I’m whispering filth into her ear.
Would she be horrified that a killer with more blood on his hands than the rest of my platoon combined is watching her masturbate? Or would it turn her on? Maybe I’ll smear blood all over those perfect fucking globes while I’m fucking her. I swallow back a moan at the thought.
