Page 8 of Stalked By the Executive

Marcus shifts, leaning against the wall. He exudes a quiet confidence and strength. Perhaps it's foolish, but I feel safer with him, so I don't even hesitate to accept his proposal.

Marcus steps closer, radiating heat and a spicy cologne. My senses heighten at his nearness. "How did you come to be here?"

"I happened to be in the area, and call it a sixth sense, but you were just on my mind. Thought I'd check on you." His eyes darken.

I stare at the floor, at the scuffs on my shoes. An uneasy feeling coils in my gut as the weight of his gaze bores into me.

"Charlotte." His voice drops, rough and intimate.

I look up without thinking. Our eyes meet, and my breath catches.

Heat and hunger blaze in his eyes. His pupils are blown wide, lips parted. The air between us seems to shimmer with electricity.

"Come on. It's late, and we have to work tomorrow. I have a spare bedroom you can stay in."

I follow him because what else can I do?

* * *

Marcus

I stalk down the hallway, pulse pounding in my veins. She almost caught me last night. It was a quick save to "just so happen" to show up at her door and present myself as her savior instead of being found out as her villain.

Her classes must have ended early. Either that or I got so wrapped up in my fantasies that time ran away from me.

It was more likely the latter. I'm lucky I was able to sneak out of her bedroom fire escape before she caught me.

But damn it, I didn't close her dresser drawer all the way in my haste.

I'll have to be more careful in the future.

I don't know how the fuck I kept my hands off her last night. She was in my house, within reach.

I didn't sleep a wink. I jacked off obsessively, so much so that I'm surprised there's still any cum left in my body.

But apparently there is because my cock is twitching and rising again at the thought of her.

I drag a hand over his face, struggling for control. Now is not the time to act on impulse. Last night was proof enough of that. I need to be careful, patient.

I scowl down at my pants as if my cock is personally to blame for all my troubles. It's making an obscene tent in my pants.

Motherfucker.

I stalk to my executive bathroom, my breathing ragged. The craving burns through my blood, fueled by the lacy scrap of fabric in my pocket.

I locks the door behind me and pulls out the stolen panties, clutching the delicate material in my fist. I close my eyes and inhale her scent, musk and jasmine and something uniquely Charlotte.

A groan rumbles in my chest as I palm the front of my trousers. My erection strains against the expensive wool, aching for release.

With trembling fingers, I unzip my fly and draw out my cock. It jerks in my grip as I rub the panties over the sensitive head, slick precum staining the lace.

I stuff the panties back in my pocket, not wanting to chance making a mess on them until I've stolen another pair.

Jesus, I'm sick.Obsessed.

"Charlotte," I rasp, fist tightening around my length. I imagine her on her knees before me, full lips parted, eyes dark with desire as—

A sharp cry escapes me as pleasure spikes through my body. My climax crashes over me in waves, Charlotte's name a broken moan on his lips as I start to come...

---