Page 30 of My Masked Stalker
“Are you in danger?” she asks, bringing me back to the conversation. I’ve never been this distracted before I met her.She’sthe fucking danger.
“It seems I’m not the only one,” I answer slowly. “The scumbag terrorists we’re after just broke into your apartment, either looking for me, or looking for leverage to draw me out.”
She covers her mouth with her hand, her skin draining of color so fast, I’m worried she’ll faint.
“But… how do they know about me? It’s not like we were holding hands in Central Park!” Her voice breaks, and my need to break some bones ramps up.
“This is an international criminal organization with ties to the government here and overseas. Their resources areunlimited.” I grit my teeth and take Emily’s hand. “You’re moving in with me.”
My girl blinks at me, then lets out a hysterical giggle.
“You’re kidding?” she says breathily. “I don’t even know your last name. This is the first time I’m seeing you in daylight. And we’ve never even been on a date.”
I narrow my eyes at her protest. “My last name’s Cross. Get used to it, baby, you’ll be using it soon enough.” Her jaw unhinges, but I don’t give her time to argue. “I’ll take you on a Caribbean vacation for our honeymoon, and you can have as many dates as you want, even in the daylight. But from now on,” I continue, my voice growing hard, “you sleep in my bed. Period.”
She shakes her head in a daze. “This can’t be happening.”
“It’s happening.”
“I’m not giving up my apartment,” she says stubbornly, her lower lip jutting out. “It’s the last thing my grandma gave me before she died.”
“You don’t have to give it up, baby, but you’re not going to be living in it. My place has better security, and if you don’t like it, we’ll get a house somewhere.” I lift an eyebrow at her. “Maybe you can give it to your friend to use. You want her to have a place to herself, don’t you?”
Emily blinks a few times before her nose scrunches up.
“You really know everything about me, don’t you?” she asks in resigned disbelief. “Nothing is private.”
“You don’t need privacy from me,” I say dismissively. Every part of her belongs to me.
Her eyebrows raise in challenge, some of her bravado coming back.
“Does that mean you don’t need privacy from me? You’ll tell me everything?”
I grin at her sassiness, but my voice is deadpan when I answer. “You don’t want to know everything, sweetheart. You won’t be able to sleep at night.”
Her throat works as she swallows, and it makes me want to flood it with my cum. If I’ve learned anything over the last couple of months, it’s that I have no impulse control when it comes to my Little Red. My hands are on her waist before she can answer, and I pull her on top of me, her perfect, round ass swaying in front of my face.
“What are you doing?” she squeaks as she tips over, bracing herself on her hands on each side of my body.
“I’m feeding you breakfast,” I snarl, pulling away the blankets and revealing my already-hard dick.
“We’re not done with our conversation!” she snaps, fierce as a kitten baring claws. “I’m not moving in with you!”
I laugh, pushing her shoulders down toward my hips. “Good luck saying no with your mouth full of my cock, baby.”
She makes outraged noises, but her lips still part when the tip brushes against them.
“Th—this argument isn’t—” she sputters.
“Argument?” I ask derisively. “Sweetheart, the only thing you’re arguing with is your gag reflex.”
Her nails dig into my thighs, but she doesn’t pull back. She never does. I can feel her fighting with herself, see her pussy getting wetter right in front of my eyes. I need to shut down the chit chat so I can have my breakfast too.
“You think I’m asking?” I rasp, my hips flexing up. “You’re already mine, Emily. All I’m doing now is putting you where you belong. Under my roof, in my bed, and on my cock.”
She’s trying to form words around my rod, muffled protests vibrating against me, but her throat works anyway, swallowing. Her pride says no, her body says yes.
“Mm. That’s my good girl. You’ll swallow this argument just like you swallow me.”
