Page 58 of Love Me Stalk Me
A break from Evan.
A break from Caleb.
A break from...whatever the hell is happening in my brain with Callahan.
Yeah. That's exactly what I need. I set my phone down, and take a deep breath, feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders. I crawl into bed, exhausted but wired, my mind a tangled mess of thoughts that won't shut up. The sheets are cool against my skin, a small comfort as I try to settle.
I should sleep. I need to sleep. But I already know I won't. My body is too tense, too restless, every nerve ending still humming with awareness. I roll onto my side, reaching blindly for the nightstand. My fingers close around the familiar shape of my vibrator, and I don't think—I just act.
Because I need the release. Because maybe then, I'll be able to think straight. I let my eyes close, letting the fantasy build, letting my mind wander into territories I shouldn't explore but can't resist.
At first, it's Caleb. The way he called me gorgeous, perfect. How those words made me feel like I was worthy of being worshipped. I suck in a breath as I turn the toy on, letting the sensation pulse through me. I imagine him behind me, mouth at my ear, each word a dark command I canfeel all the way down.
Show me, pretty girl.
You don't even know how badly I want you.
Heat blooms under my skin, my body responding so easily to words that aren't even real. My breathing quickens, my muscles tensing in anticipation.
But then, without meaning to, my mind shifts. The green eyes I'm picturing aren't AI-generated anymore.
They're his.
Callahan's.
And suddenly, it's not Caleb whispering filth into my ear.
It's Cal.
His voice rougher, deeper, less smooth, more raw. My breath stutters, my grip tightening on the sheets as the image of him solidifies in my mind.
Not just a fantasy.
A memory.
This morning.
The conference room.
The way he sat across from me, his forearms flexing as he rolled up his sleeves. His eyes locked on me. The confident set of his shoulders, the intensity of his focus when he spoke. And then, just like that, my mind twists the memory, shifting it, changing the setting.
Suddenly, I’m not across from him anymore. I’m bent over the conference room table, skirt pushed up, panties shoved aside. His hand is locked around the back of my neck, pressing me down, holding me exactly where he wants me.
His voice is pure sin—low and dangerous, threaded with filthy promise.
“You want to act like a brat in meetings? Fine. Now take it like one.”
A whimper slips out of me, my body tightening, my release building faster than I expected, because yes. YES. This is what I need. My hips move of their own accord, seeking more pressure, more sensation.
I bet you've been thinking about this all day.
Bet you've been picturing my hands on you, holding you open, making you mine.
My breathing picks up, the pressure mounting, my body ready to snap. And yes, fantasy Callahan, I absolutely have been picturing those big hands on me, holding me open. I'd also very much enjoy licking every inch of ink you have on your body.
I grip the sheets, my thighs clenching as the fantasy completely takes over, as reality fades into the background.
Look at you. Taking what I give you. So fucking perfect for me.
