Page 2 of Stalked

Straight men. It’s honestly a problem. Apparently, I never got the same gaydar most gays got. I have the straight-dar, or whatever you want to call it.

So, when he stepped towards me if I had to guess, he was around six foot three, his vibrant green eyes glued to my dull blue ones. My breath doesn’t hitch from being frightened. I might get hurt or worse, die here. No, my breath hitches because all I can think about is opening the fly on this man’s dress pants and sucking his cock down my throat. I bet he would be taken by surprise if I did that right now. He’d probably kill me, but at least I’d die with a cock in my mouth.

Something is seriously wrong with me.

“Imya,” he mutters, not breaking eye contact with me. Frowning at him, I have no idea what he just said. Sighing, he drops down onto the coffee table across from me, the wood groaning when puts all his weight down. His large thighs are on either side of mine. A faint hint of smoke and mint wraps around my nose.Hmm, he smokes. And though I don’t normally find men who smoke attractive, this man is downright fucking hot. I can’t deny that.

“Answer me,” he demands, glaring his beautiful green eyes at me. He has somewhat of an accent, and though I can’t tell, I know it’s not American. I just can’t pinpoint where it’s from, and it’s as though he’s trying to hide it.

“What was your question?” I ask instead, twisting my fingers together. A nervous habit I got from my sister, Izel.

Rolling his eyes, I swear I hear him grind his molars together. He almost reminds me of Zion, my sister's husband. Zion, that fucker, is definitely not someone you want to mess with. He’s a six-foot-seven monster, and I’m not joking. Zion is huge, and granted, I was a littlescared of him when we first met. I like to think he’s more like a teddy bear than Godzilla. But that’s just me.

Suddenly, a hand wraps around my neck, pushing me back onto the couch. My eyes widen as this suit man towers over me. That hand that I so desperately wanted around my neck is now making my dick harder than possible. Call me a little fucked up, but whatever this man wants to do to me, I’m sure I’ll let him. Just as long as I have a view of those delicious hands.

“I don’t like repeating myself,” he mutters. His accent comes out stronger and I’m even more intrigued.

“Where are you from?” I ask, unable to help myself. Licking my lips, his eyes travel down to my mouth before snapping back up to my eyes.

Cocking his head to the side, as if he’s fighting with himself not to answer me, I squirm under his gaze, feeling unsettled in this awkward silence. But also holding onto a little hope that he doesn’t look down between our bodies and take notice that my cock is hard.

“Otvet' mne, tvoye imya,” he whispers so quietly that I almost miss what he says.

“I don’t understand,” I say, licking my lips, because, of course, they’d decided now is the time to become dry.

“Name, Little Rabbit,” suit man whispers so gently, I’m not sure who it surprises—him or I.

I’ve played enough captive games to know I should never give into their demands. I claim to be smart and even claim that I know the best ways to get out of these situations. My sister is surely going to murder me, especially when I mumble, “Gabriel.”

Something is wrong with me.

“Gabriel…” I shouldn’t like the way he says my name, but I do, I really do. Releasing my throat, he steps back, eyes narrowed down atme. It’s not until his phone starts to ring do I jump and release the breath I’ve been holding.

I need to get myself under control.

“Da,” he snaps into the phone. Without breaking eye contact, he listens to the other person on the line. “Otvezi yego na sklad, ya zakonchu zdes'.”

Again, I have no idea what he’s saying. But the way he stares at me, speaking low into the phone… I squirm, my fingers locked together, my breathing uneven. I’m sure I’m about to die when he hangs up and pockets his phone.

Stepping over, he once again towers over me, and I lean back against the couch, trying to melt into it, needing to disappear. I flinch when he brings his hand up. The fear races around my head, clogging my throat. Suit man frowns, his eyes glancing between his hand that’s still mid-reach, offended that I flinched from his actions. Seeming to come to some type of conclusion, he grabs my chin, dragging his thumb across my bottom lip. Surely straight men don’t do this, not to other men, at least.

“Forget me, Little Rabbit,” he whispers and before I can even question what he means, he backs away, slamming the door behind him, leaving me lying on the couch, confused and most of all turned on.

3

Tobias

Ishouldn’t have gone alone.

I should have made Kyler do this because even though I knew who he was. I still needed to make sure he was Gabriel, and now that I know, my bones ache, and my skin crawls. I feel like I’m hooked on drugs, and I need to see him again.

Which is why I’m standing outside his apartment door, my hand on the doorknob, fighting with myself. I shouldn’t do this, I really shouldn’t…

A small twist, and the door swings open.

Frowning, I take a single step back inside, knowing I shouldn’t be breaking into his space again, but unable to now. I growl when I close the door behind me, trying to lock it just to find that the lock doesn’t fucking work. Does he have no disregard for personal safety? Anyone, anyone worse than me, could just break in here and take him, or worse, kill him.

My feet move on their own, taking in his space that I never got to look at before. His apartment is shitty, and that’s being nice. The couch that I had him pressed against sits against a wall that has seen better days. The off-white walls are cracked and, in the corner, the shitty wallpaper peels down. The dark coffee table sitting in front of the couch now has paintbrushes and half-painted canvas lying there. I’m surprised the table that’s a piece of junk even held my weight earlier.

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