Page 3 of My Masked Stalker
Emily’s legs start shaking, warning me about her impending orgasm, and I jerk myself harder, faster, picturing myself between her legs, ready to fill her up. When her head snaps back and her body twitches so hard she nearly falls off the counter, I let myself come with her, emptying my balls over the dirty rooftop with a muted groan.
As Emily’s still twitching with aftershocks, I shake the last few drops of cum off my dick and stuff it back into my pants. With clarity returning, I can admit to myself that I’m a fucking idiot. I could’ve gotten caught with my dick out and my hand on my stick.
Light turning on in Petrov’s apartment shuts off my internal berating, and I turn my sight to the target we’re actually getting paid for. Not that we don’t have enough money to last us five lifetimes. It’s a matter of reputation.
My upper lip curls when I see the middle-aged Russian waddle to the john. Guess he’s gonna die pissing himself, and it’s nothing more than he deserves. Taking a steadying breath, I park the crosshairs right at Petrov’s off switch. Is aiming for the base of the skull where the brainstem meets the spinal cord cocky? Sure. But I never miss.
The crack of the shattering glass drowns out the suppressed snap of my round, and as I lift my stick off the ledge, I think I hear a woman scream. Doesn’t matter. Petrov’s got a date with his god, and I’ve got mine with Emily—as soon as I take care of the competition.
2
EMILY
Ipause with my spoonful of cereal halfway to my mouth.
“Are you seeing this, Barbs?” I ask my best friend and coworker over the phone, my eyes glued to the TV news sequence. The reporter is standing outside my building, talking about my neighbor, Mr. Petrov.
“I sure am,” Barbara murmurs. “Can’t believe you heard it go down.”
“IthinkI heard it go down,” I correct her. “There was a crack, and glass shattered at the same time.”
“Was he really a child molester?” my friend asks, sounding about as sick as I feel. We both work with kids, for heaven’s sake. “They’re saying the police found pics and videos.”
I’m nodding, even though Barb isn’t around to see it, her voice coming from the speaker.
“Maybe he deserved what he got,” I whisper, unsure if I want her to hear me or not.
“What’s that, babe?”
Guess she didn’t hear me. I clear my throat and speak louder: “I said maybe you can move into the building now.”
Barbara snorts, the sound coming through loud and clear.
“Yeah, I’m in a real hurry to move into the apartment where someone just took out a Russian pedophile, Ems.”
“You might get a good price,” I joke. “And it’s not like beggars can be choosers in this economy.”
She doesn’t let me get away with it. “Says the woman with her own place.”
I’m laughing along with her, my late breakfast forgotten. After Chris called and then the shattered window, aka the murder, I barely slept a wink. Thankfully, my phone started working again eventually, or I wouldn’t have Barbara to talk with about the police coming and going all morning.
“Grams would have loved this,” I muse. “She was always up in her neighbors’ business. Bet she’d have pegged Mr. Petrov for a creep as soon as he moved in.” Not that I thought he wasn’t a bit sleezy. I just didn’t instantly thinkmolester.
“I’m just glad you’re safe,” Barbara says emphatically. “What if they missed and shot you instead? It’s so easy to mix up windows in a building.”
I’m in the process of loading more cereal onto the spoon and actually eating some of my breakfast when her words register and I drop the spoon with a clank.
“Ems?”
The window! Almost in slow motion, I turn my head to the kitchen window with its lovely view of the building across the street. Then I look at the counter where I was last night, right before the glass shattered. My throat clicks as I swallow.
“Emily!”
I cough, choking on my own spit.
“Sor—sorry, Barb. Cereal got stuck in my throat,” I lie.
I can’t believe I gave some psycho killer a peep show last night. Freaking Chris, it’s all his fault. First, he cancelled our date, saying something came up, then he called me after midnight, all raring to go. I shouldn’t have even given in, butit’s been a while, and I couldn’t sleep anyway. When I lost connection, I was horny enough to want to finish what I started. And, yeah, maybe I had a quick thought that a neighbor across the street could be peeking through his blinds or something. But I didn’t actually believe it.
