Page 8 of Stalked By the Intern

FOUR

Andy

I follow her from a distance,my heart racing as I watch her graceful stride along the bustling sidewalk. Her long brown hair sways with each step, drawing attention from bystanders and causing a stir within me. She's unaware of my presence, lost in thought as she weaves through the crowd. I quicken my pace to match hers, eager to see where she'll lead me next.

We turn onto a quiet street lined with old trees and quaint shops, their doors shuttered for the day. The air smells of freshly brewed coffee and baking bread from a nearby café. I trail behind, taking note of every turn and stop she makes. She ducks into an art supply store, emerging with a canvas and a bag of paints. I swallow hard, my throat dry. She's going to the park.

The sun dips low on the horizon, casting golden hues over everything it touches. The leaves rustle in the wind, creating a symphony of sound that masks my footsteps as I approach. Hidden behind a thick bush, I peer out at her, my breath caught in my chest. She sits on an unoccupied bench near a serene pond, setting up her easel. Her fingers dance across the canvas, expertly applying paint to the soft surface. I lean in closer, wanting to taste the hues she creates.

Her pale skin glows in the fading light as she loses herself in her art. Her tongue traces her bottom lip, leaving a delicate stain of color. A bead of sweat trickles down my spine, and I feel the pull of desire coursing through me. A shiver runs through me at the thought of being that paintbrush, tracing every inch of her perfect skin. Her breaths are shallow gasps, her body moving to some inner rhythm only she can hear.

I watch as she captures the beauty of nature on canvas—trees swaying in the breeze, ducks gliding effortlessly across the water. Every brushstroke is like a caress, every color mixing together to form something mesmerizing. My fingers itch to touch her, to feel her soft skin beneath them. But I stay hidden, content to observe for now.

As twilight falls, she packs up her things and walks back to her apartment building. My heart pounds with anticipation for what comes next—our secret meetings at the park have become my only source of peace. Each time we connect, even if from afar, feels like a gift. Tonight, though, there's an unspoken electricity between us. It's as if she knows I'm here, watching her every move.

I wait until she disappears inside before making my move. My steps are heavy, each one echoing in my head as I approach her door. She has no idea what's coming for her. I'll be there tomorrow, waiting for another glimpse of her enchanting artistry. And the day after that. And the day after that. Because I can't resist her any longer.

Abd then I see it—she's left something behind. A sketchbook tucked between a bush just outside the door. My hand trembles as I reach down and pick it up, my fingers tracing the ridges of its spine.

It's mine now. All mine.

Back at my place, I lock myself in my room and unleash my curiosity. The pages fill with images of her world—landscapes, portraits, even studies of flowers. Each one more breathtaking than the last. Her talent is undeniable and consuming. As I turn each page, my mind wanders to places it shouldn't go—fantasies of running my hands through her hair while she paints me. Of tasting her lips as she concentrates on capturing my essence on paper.

My cock hardens at the thought, pressing against my jeans. It's been too long since I've comed for her. But she's off-limits, and yet, so achingly close. I can almost taste her sweetness on my tongue.

The scent of her paint mixes with my own sweat as I continue to flip through the pages, savoring every little detail. A soft moan escapes me, and I can't help but close my eyes and imagine her body beneath mine. I need her, more than anything. The sounds of the city fade away as I drown in her art, losing myself in the twisted secret I've found.

I'm consumed with desire, yet terrified of getting caught. This isn't right, but I can't stop. Every stroke of her brush sends shivers down my spine, every stroke of color on the page igniting something deep inside me. My obsession spirals out of control, yet it feels so fucking good.

Every stroke of the pen on the paper mirrors the throbbing between my legs. I knows he should resist, but I can't.

I'm desperate for her. I reach for my aching cock once again, stroking it hard in time with the rhythm of the city. The musky scent of need fills the room, driving me to the edge. Her sketch is all that matters now. All that exists. My chest heaves with each breath, wanting her so badly it hurts. I look back down at the drawing, wanting nothing more than to be inside those eyes that stare back at me longingly.

Agony courses through my veins as I work myself to climax. Each thrust mirrors the motion of my heart, beating wildly in time with the city that buzzes around me. Slick precum drips from my erection, staining my fingers and the page below. I imagine it's her sweet nectar, her eyes boring into my soul as I release myself onto her artwork. It's dirty, obsessive, and yet...exhilarating.

I collapse onto the floor, panting heavily, the adrenaline rush fading away. The pounding in my head is deafening, my heart thudding in my chest. I've never felt anything like this before—raw, primal, and unhinged. I look down at the sketchbook, smiling to myself.

I carefully place the sketchbook back into my bag, my heart racing with anticipation for our next encounter. Maybe, in time, she'll understand how much I need her. The thought sends shivers down my spine, making me even harder. I'll make her feel what I feel. I'll possess her like I own this sketchbook—every inch of her belonging to me alone.

***

I decide that tomorrow I'll visit her at the community center where she volunteers. I want to see her in her element, surrounded by those she helps. Maybe, just maybe, it will weaken this hold she has over me. But I doubt it.

The sun's setting as I approach the center, its orange hue casting a warm glow over everything it touches. The air is cold, crisp against my skin. The scent of pumpkin spice and leaves fills my senses, reminding me of fall.

Walking inside, I spot Willow instantly - her brown hair shines under the warm lighting. She smiles at someone who approaches her, greeting them with open arms. Her blue eyes sparkle like the stars above.

She is pure and untouchable, yet in my mind, I've touched every inch of her body. The thought sends shivers down my spine.

I stand in the back, watching her in awe. She brushes off some nervousness from a young girl as she helps fix a painting on the wall. She's so fucking kind. It kills me softly.

I need her now more than ever.

A group of kids cluster around Willow, listening intently as she tells stories about her art. She laughs, her voice like a melody. My heart races at the thought of making her mine. Taking her away from all this noise and chaos.

I watch as she finishes talking, glancing around for a moment before heading towards the door. I bite my bottom lip, tasting blood, knowing what I have planned next.

I follow her outside, heart pounding in anticipation. The wind picks up, rustling leaves and sending shivers down my spine.

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