Page 145 of Love Me Stalk Me
That took every ounce of willpower I had.
Telling her to wait. To take her time. To not jump from Evan to me. Even though every selfish, possessive part of me wanted to tell her,Fuck that. Come to me now.
She is mine.
She just doesn't fully realize it yet. And that's the reality I have to accept.
I don't want to manipulate her. I don't want her to come to me out of confusion or vulnerability.
I want her to come to me because she wants me.
Because she knows it's right.
Because she knows we're inevitable.
And if that means I have to wait a little longer, then fine.
I'll fucking wait. I never thought I'd want to be with another woman anyway. So what's a little longer for the one who was clearly always meant to be mine?
I drag a hand down my face, exhaling slowly. The cool air of my apartment raises goosebumps on my arms. I know it's my nervous tick. It's probably why I could never rock a beard. With the amount of times I run my hand over my jaw, I'd probably rub it off.
My body is still wired. The sheets beneath me feel too rough against my skin, my nerves hypersensitive. Because even though I spent the last hour being the rational, level-headed guy she needsright now...
After our conversation?
I was stroking my cock to the sound of her moans, the memory of her voice echoing in my ears.
I was whispering filthy things to her, telling her a bedtime story that she came to in under five minutes, her gasps filling me through the phone.
She's getting so fucking bold.
So playful.
So uninhibited.
The first time she asked for a "bedtime story," she was hesitant, unsure, her voice barely audible through the phone.
Now?
Now she asks for them like they're her fucking oxygen. Her voice eager, almost demanding.
And the one I gave her tonight?
It was a new favorite.
I took her back to that dark forest.
Had her running through the trees, breathless, body tingling with anticipation. I described the fallen leaves crunching beneath her feet, the cool night air against her heated skin, the moonlight casting dappled shadows through the branches.
She knew what was coming.
That she wouldn't escape.
That I was going to catch her and take her.
She wanted to be overpowered, thrown onto her hands and knees in the dirt, claimed entirely. I told her how the forest floor would feel against her palms, how the scent of earth and pine would fill her nostrils as she was pressed down.
I had her begging.
