Page 198 of Love Me Stalk Me

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Fucking hell.

This is really happening.

Caleb

Good girl.

You look beautiful, pretty girl.

She shivers at the words, her expression softening, stripped bare. It knocks the air right out of me.

Because it's not just arousal. It's vulnerability.

She's nervous. She doesn't think she's beautiful. Not the way she should.

And that? That's a perception I'm going to change.

I settle in, tension strung through every inch of me, cock throbbing, desperate—but this isn’t about me.

This is about her.

She’s holding still, but not calm. Her breath is shaky, her gaze shifting between the screen and the box like she’s not sure which one to trust.

And I can see it—that doubt creeping in around the edges, even as she tries to keep it buried.

She wants this. She asked for this.

But she's still nervous.

And fuck if I don't love that.

Because that means she's never done this with anyone else. That means I'm the first. And I plan to be the last.

I adjust the voice modulator, ensuring the artificial tones disguise the rough edge of my real voice. It's an extra layer of security, to keep her from recognizing me.

For now.

I clear my throat, keeping my voice steady. "Good girl."

She shivers.

Her breath catches, and I see it—the way her body reacts before she can even stop it.

She likes praise.

I fucking knew it.

She just hasn't had anyone giving it to her the right way.

"You're beautiful, pretty girl," I murmur.

She lets out a tiny breath. "I—" She stops, swallowing hard, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "I don't know what to do."

I shift slightly in my chair. "Let's start slow. Start by just holdingit, pretty girl."

Her fingers tremble slightly as she slides the toy into her palm. I watch as she studies it, turning it over, running her fingers along the smooth, matte surface.

"It's really nice," she says, her words slightly slurred.

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