Page 12 of Stranger Session

He’s not unattractive, but I’m not interested. Even if he didn’t creep me out, I don’t have time to be interested. Besides, the whole interaction between Del and him made me uncomfortable. Well, uncomfortable because it made me want Del more. Until he pulled a one-eighty on me and became an asshole who could hardly say goodbye before he left. I’m not sure what I did to anger him, and I never intend to find out.

When I turn around, Sam is gone. Thank God.

“That guy left this for you,” my coworker says, handing me a picture. It’s the image of me on his lap, and on the back is his phone number. I can’t dodge the weird glance from my colleague.

I slip the picture into my pocket and rush into the back to avoid her gaze and let the uncomfortable interaction wash away from me so I can finish up the rest of this shitty shift and go home. I can wallow better there.

Chapter Ten

Del

With her full name and address, I figured out she works at a bougie coffee shop downtown. I’m watching the place from my parking spot on the road when I see that skeezy assistant walking out of there. My fingers tighten around my steering wheel when I see the smarmy smile on his weasel face.

Why is he here? Is she seeing him? She never signed a contract agreeing she wouldn’t socialize with his stupid ass, so it’s possible.

I smack the wheel.Fuck.

He passes the car without seeing me, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I don’t want Mariah to know I’m watching her. That would be fun to explain.

I hate the feelings she’s stirred up inside me. This is something I didn’t even feel with my ex. I just want to be around her. Breathe the same air as her. Exist in the same place as her. This woman has consumed me.

I pull onto the street and drive home. Maybe once I getback to the house, I can find something to occupy my mind long enough to give me a break from this torment.

But nothing seems to work. I try to binge something on Netflix, but I spend more time flipping through the selections than actually watching anything. A new game came out on PC, and I’ve been dying to play, but it doesn’t hold my attention. It feels as if everything I do is just to pass the time until I can see her again, but that will never happen. Well...unless I make it happen.

An idea forms in my mind, and I grab my keys and set off again. The clock ticks toward midnight. I should be in bed, but there’s no way I can sleep until I do this. My skin feels too tight, and my mind races with images of her face. It’s as if each click of the camera shutter has deposited the photos of that day directly into my brain.

I grip the wheel, turn onto her street, and watch the windows of each house I pass. I search for any sign that someone might be awake—the flicker of a television, an office light left on as someone burns the midnight oil—but the entire neighborhood seems to be sleeping.

Which is good. I wouldn’t want anyone to report what I’m about to do.

After I cut my headlights, I pull against the curb near her house. I can only hope she doesn’t have a camera aimed at this side of the street. Most people use those doorbell cameras these days, and I should be out of the way if she has one.

Pulling gloves onto my hands, I exit the car and walk along the side of the house. Not even the crickets are out tonight. My feet slide through the dewy grass, and I’m grateful she keeps a clean yard so I don’t have to worry about crunching through dead leaves. I find her back door unlocked, so I letmyself in.

The lights are off. I feel along the wall, trying to find her bedroom. I’m drawn to one specific door, like her life force is calling mine. I stop and touch the knob with a gloved hand, and my heart thumps against my chest as it turns in my grasp.

A night light casts a purple glow beside the bed. It’s the only illumination in the room. She faces away from me, and her long, dark hair drapes over the pillow beneath her head. On silent feet, I creep to the side of the bed and remove my glove so I can run my bare fingertips through those strands. She can’t feel it, but I can.

The sheet hugs her body, and my eyes snag on every delicious curve. My cock strains against the zipper holding it back. As if they have been taken over by some unseen entity, my hands move toward the sheet. I long to pull it back and see what’s hidden beneath it, but panic strangles me. I stop. If she woke up and saw me, everything would be over before it’s had a chance to begin. Any hope of getting closer to her would be ripped away.

As I return my hands to my sides, my gaze jumps to her en suite bathroom. Another small night light brightens the space above the sink. Is my little venti girl afraid of the dark?

I sneak into the bathroom and look around the room. Ineedto come, and I don’t want to come on her. Not yet.

My eyes lock on the tube of moisturizer sitting on the sink by the soap dispenser. When I untwist the cap, my cock throbs at the thought of what I could do. I want to come in her lotion so she has to put me on her skin.

Wear me.

I free my cock and begin to stroke myself. My mind wanders to dirty thoughts of her as I lean back against the counter and stare at the pure perfection lying on the bed. I imagine what it would be like to spread her legs and burymy face in her warmth. I want to coat my tongue and chin in her arousal.

I wonder what her pussy looks like as I stroke faster. How does she feel? Tight, I bet. Warm and fucking wet. Just the thought of her tightens my balls. I hold the moisturizer’s opening against the head of my cock, ensuring the hole is positioned so that I don’t waste a single drop. With clenched teeth, I stifle a groan as I fill the bottle with my come.

Once I’ve screwed the cap onto the tube again, I shake it up and mix everything together. When she next flips open the cap, she won’t be any wiser. I hope she likes wearing me. My scent mixes well with hers.

On my way out of her room, I spot a notebook and her laptop on the desk. I look back at the bed and make sure she’s still asleep before opening her computer. It hums to life without a password, which isn’t very smart. Everyone should lock their computers with a password. But I should be grateful, because it makes what I do next that much easier.

I plug in the flash drive that’s been burning a hole in my pocket. This is the whole reason I came here. Coming in her lotion was just a side road I couldn’t help but take. I attach the flash drive to the adapter and plug it into her phone next. I’ll be able to track everything now. And be able to see if she’s talking to that fucking assistant—or anyone else.

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