Page 14 of Stalked

“Have Killian look into Billy some more. Maybe there’s someone closer to him that we don’t know about.”

“On it,” he murmurs.

“Great, so it’s settled. I’ll get word out soon about different locations.” Kyler smiles, getting to his feet.

“Great,” I mumble.

“I’m going to grab something to eat and then head out. You need anything?”

Shaking my head, Kyler is out of the office. I pull the computer feed up of Gabriel’s bedroom, just in time to watch Amy, the older lady I hired when I found her sleeping on the street. Once I got her set up in the guest house a mile behind this house, she quickly learned the ropes and never looked back.

Amy is quiet and timid, but Gabriel is outspoken with her. I love it. I can’t explain why my body reacts to him; it just does. From the moment I stepped foot in his space, everything shot to the surface. His smell was intoxicating, his artwork was everywhere, and the way he snores loudly.

My eyes are glued to the screen, watching as he shoves pancakes into his mouth, then downs the rest of the orange juice. I thought four pancakes, a tall glass of juice, and a banana would be enough, but the dude downs everything within five minutes. Cleaning the plate off.

Wonder what he would look like choking on mycock.

I groan at the thought. I shouldn’t want him. But I do.

I really fucking do.

My mother oughta beat my ass.

I was surely raised better than this. Even if I was raised to murder and hurt others, I was raised as a gentleman. Mom made sure of it. You open doors for others, especially women. You walk on the outer side of the sidewalk. The whole ordeal. Mom wasn’t raised like Dad. She lived in a small town in Ohio. Granted, she was kidnapped when she was twenty and then sold and rekidnapped by Dad. But never mind that—she was raised right, and in doing so raised me and my sister just the same.

If I wasn’t going to Hell for the wrongdoing I’ve done before, I’m surely going to Hell for this.

Gabriel’s snores fill the bedroom, his arms thrown over his face, the blanket halfway off, leaving his bare chest on display. His dusky pink nipple causes my mouth to water, and blood rushes to my cock, hardening at the sight.

I shouldn’t.

But I’m already going to Hell.

Unzipping my dress pants, I tug my pants down enough to release my cock. Hissing at contact, spitting into my hand I give myself a slow tug before running my thumb over the tip. Precum leaks from my tip. I try to stay silent as I stroke myself. But the sight of him, fuck.

Gabriel rolls onto his stomach, leaving his boxer-covered ass on display. It wouldn’t be that hard to just pull them down. I’ve never had sex with another man before, but I imagine it’s not that hard.

“Fuck,” I hiss, my balls drawing up. I shouldn’t be doing this, but it’s too late to stop. My eyes slam shut, my cum shooting out onto his back. My breaths come out uneven, and though I do feel much better, I now realize he's going to know who came on him last time.

10

Gabriel

The nerve of that guy. Thedamnnerve on suit man, thinking he can just come in here, jerk off, and leave his cum all over me?

What a fool. Of course, all along it’s been the suit man breaking in—it’s the only thing that makes sense. I’m not sure why I thought it was someone else, but of course, it’s him. The one who broke in came on my cheek a few weeks ago and has been leaving those paintbrushes. I’m such a damn fool.

But if it’s not him, then I have another stalker out there. One too many stalkers at that.

But damn him for thinkinghe could just come in here, even if it is his house. Or so I’m assuming. And to just jack off and cum on me, and without even getting me off.

Which is why as soon as he leaves the room, I shower. Granted, I had to take care of myself first. I don’t think I ever got hard so quickly or came within seconds of touching myself.

Now I’m sneaking around the house like I’m the one who's breaking into his space. The first thing I notice is that the guy is obsessed with everything dark. The walls are black, the curtains are black, and the damn floors are dark enough that they might as well be black too. Seriously, what's with this place? Why is it so hard to have some light, some art?

Following the hallway, everything is emotionless and bland. It shouldn’t bother me; I’m not staying here. But no one should live like this. It’s too weird, too empty. No one should live here. Not even my worst enemy. Actually, that’s a lie. I want him to rot.

At the end of the hall, I’m surprised when I step foot into a large open space. To the left holds a decent-sized kitchen, an island with four barstools. And to the right is a sectional couch and a TV above a fireplace. Across is another hallway that’s calling my name.

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