Page 20 of Stalked By the Executive

"Marcus," I whisper, the sound of his name on my lips a forbidden pleasure I can't deny myself. And now I know, right or wrong, there's no turning back now.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "Now, let me show you what it means to be mine."

My heart hammers in my chest as I watch Marcus's eyes darken, his voice trembling with a mix of desperation and adoration. "Charlotte, I love you," he confesses, baring his soul to me without any hesitation. "I've loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you. You're my obsession, my everything."

I can't help but shiver at the intensity of his words, fear and desire coiling together in my gut like a living thing. Every instinct tells me to run, to escape his smoldering gaze, but there's something in his vulnerability that holds me captive.

"Please, don't be afraid," he pleads, his eyes searching mine for any sign of understanding. "I know how this must look, but I swear, all I want is to protect you, to cherish you. I'd do anything for you, Charlotte."

His words wash over me like a tidal wave, drowning out the small voice of reason that still lingers in the back of my mind. It's terrifying, this strange pull he has over me, how easily he can make my heart race with just a few whispered words.

"Marcus," I whisper, my voice barely audible above the pounding of my heart. "I... I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll let me in," he implores, desperation leaking into his voice. "Let me show you just how much I care for you."

My breath catches in my throat, torn between the urge to give in to his dark allure and the fear of losing myself completely to his desires. But deep down, I know that no matter what choice I make, I'm already lost. I'm irrevocably bound to him by a twisted web of lust and obsession.

"Okay," I breathe, my body trembling with anticipation.

"Charlotte," Marcus warns, his voice low and dangerous, "you need to understand something. You'll never be free of me." His eyes burn with intensity, the heat of his gaze searing into me as if to brand me as his own. "I will always be there, watching you, desiring you, controlling your every move."

My breath hitches in my chest, but instead of feeling suffocated by his words, I feel an unexpected thrill coursing through my veins. My body responds to his possessiveness with a strange sense of liberation, as if he's unlocked a hidden part of myself that has been yearning for this level of control.

"Marcus, I..." My voice falters, unable to articulate the storm of emotions raging inside me.

"Shh," he whispers, placing a finger against my lips. "You don't need to say anything, Charlotte. Just know that I'm always with you, even when you think you're alone."

His touch sends shivers down my spine, and I can't help but lean into it. The darkness of his desire wraps around me like a cocoon, both comforting and constricting. And as much as I fear what this connection might mean for us, I can't deny the allure of his dominance.

"Show me," I plead, desperate for him to reveal the depths of our twisted bond. "Show me how far this goes."

A slow, predatory smile curves Marcus's lips as he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from my face. His fingers trail down my cheek, sending goosebumps rippling across my skin.

"Good girl," Marcus praises me as he leans in to press a lingering kiss to my forehead. "You know we were always meant to be."

As Marcus moves closer, I feel the warmth radiating from his body. The distance between us narrows until there is nothing left but trembling breaths and the pounding of our hearts.

"Charlotte," he whispers, his voice rough with desire as his fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me toward him. "I need you."

"Marcus," I breathe, my own need matching his intensity.

Our lips crash together in a desperate, consuming kiss, his tongue exploring the depths of my mouth with a hunger that leaves me breathless. Hands roam over fevered skin, greedily claiming every curve, every secret hollow. This is not a gentle joining. It is a declaration of possession, an unyielding demand for submission that I cannot deny.

"Tell me," he growls against my ear, biting down on the tender flesh as a shudder of pleasure courses through me. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," I gasp, lost in the whirlwind of sensation and emotion that threatens to consume us both. "Always."

"Good," he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction as he draws back to stare into my eyes. "Because I love you. I fucking love you to the point of madness."

The words hang heavy in the air, charged with a darkness that neither of us can escape. And yet, as I gaze into the depths of his soul, I see the truth of his confession mirrored in the raw vulnerability that lingers just beneath the surface.

"I love you too," I admit, my voice shaking with the weight of this newfound revelation. "I don't understand it, but I do."

"Love isn't meant to be understood," he tells me, his lips brushing against mine in a searing promise of all that we will become. "It's meant to be felt."

And as our bodies entwine, lost in the shared madness of our desires, I can't help but feel that this love—dark and twisted though it may be—is the one thing that will truly set us free.

As Marcus's lips leave mine, our chests heave in unison, the room now a battleground of tangled limbs and whispered moans. I feel his hands on my bare skin, their touch rough yet tender, leaving trails of fire in their wake. My nails dig into his shoulders, urging him to bring me closer to the edge of oblivion.

---