Page 14 of Stalk Me

I don’t give her the time to finish, untangling myself from her man. “Well, you caught us.” I grin. “I think we’re done here.”

My inner walls spasm as I release him; he’s soaked in my cum. My thighs are sticky and so are my lips. We stand for a second, daring each other to speak. The shock immediately sobers up Nicolas. He swallows hard.

“Belle, I can explain—” he starts, but Belle cuts him off with a sharp gasp.

She storms toward me, ignoring him completely. But I’m one step ahead. I push past her and practically run away, leaving the two of them to sort things out and my panties behind to add another layer to their pain. Sweet taste of revenge.

With everyone distracted, I weave through the crowd, spotting my exit. All I have to do is slip outside and escape the oppressive air of the party. I can feel my body relaxing, all the tension drained away. A satisfied smile plays at the corner of my mouth. Belle’s reputation might survive the fallout, but Nicolas isn’t in any position to walk away unscathed. Even if he tries to defend himself, who’s going to believe the words of a cheater over those of the pretty, perfect queen?

I lean against the stone rail overlooking the ocean and take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. The crisp, salty air feels cool against my flushed skin, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore is soothing. It’s the perfect way to end a satisfying night.

The footsteps barely register above the roar of the crashing surf, but then the click of dress shoes brings me back to reality. Heart racing, I turn to see Erik leaning against the doorway, watching me intently.

“That was quite the performance,” he says, the hint of a smirk on his lips. “Though I have to wonder if you really thought through what happens after the curtain falls.”

I shrug, turning back to the water. “It’s all a game, isn’t it?”

He steps forward, cocking his head slightly to one side. “Not like you play it. Most people wouldn’t dare fuck their enemy’s boyfriend under their noses.”

I laugh, tossing my hair back over my shoulder. “Most people wouldn’t get caught. Trust me, Belle deserved worse. But I’m more interested in how you’re going to play.”

“Don’t worry.” He looks over the rails at the dark water below. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

His tone is light, but I can hear the challenge beneath. My gut tells me he’s more dangerous than he seems, but I can’t resist the temptation to push. If this really is a game, I’m not about to let him win.

I step closer, closing the space between us until our bodies are almost touching. “So, is that an offer or a threat?” I ask, my voice low and seductive.

He raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. “If you seriously think I’m going to touch you minutes after you had someone else’s cock inside you, you’re even more twisted than I thought.” His words cut deeper than they should, probably because they’re the first honest ones I’ve heard all night. In his eyes, I see something I’ve been trying to avoid in my own reflection—the cost of playing these games.

Disappointment flashes through me, and I fight the urge to step back, giving him space. My pride won’t let me admit it, but I’m intrigued by him, even after the way he talks to me. I want the taste of victory, the sweet taste of satisfaction. I want him in a way I can’t explain. It’s like he’s the cherry I want on top of my very delicious cake.

“I’ll see you around, Erik,” I say with a small smile. “Who knows, maybe next time, it will be your cock inside my pussy.” The crude words feel like armor, protecting me from the truth in his gaze.

Before he can respond, I turn and walk away, the ocean breeze washing over me. Belle and Nicolas can have their own parties, their popularity, and their empire. None of it matters to me. All I care about is getting back at anyone who hurts or threatens me, and for now, there’s no one left. This is a well-deserved victory, and I’m determined to enjoy it. If only for a night.

The Aftermath

Regret tastes bitter, even when seasoned with revenge. I trace my fingers across ancient leather bindings in Shark Bay’s library tower, my temporary sanctuary from the storm I unleashed last night. The morning after feels hollow, my victory over Belle already tarnished by daylight’s harsh reality check. Below me, students navigate the courtyard like pieces on an elaborate chessboard, unaware they’re being observed from above. The massive gothic windows frame the scene perfectly—privileged lives playing out in miniature, their dramas so important within these walls yet utterly meaningless beyond them. I wonder if Belle and Nicolas have imploded yet, and why the thought brings me less satisfaction than expected.

Students mill about below, their voices carrying up through the rafters in hushed whispers. From my vantage point, they look like pieces on a chessboard, moving in predictable patterns. But I’m no longer sure which game I’m playing or if I’m even a player rather than a piece.

I lean back into a chair, trying and failing to focus on the text before me. Macbeth’s morality is irrelevant right now. I want to hear the gossip and see how Belle reacts. Would she blame herself for Nicolas’s actions? Would she see what happened as a sign that she can no longer trust him?

I chose this spot strategically—the library’s top floor offers a perfect view of the courtyard where Belle likes to spend time with her minions between classes. From up here, I can watch the drama unfold without getting pulled into the cross fire. She hasn’t shown up yet, but the whispers are already spreading. Groups of students huddle together, heads bent close as they share the latest gossip. Every few minutes, someone glances up at my window, then quickly looks away when they catch me watching. It’s obvious they’re talking about me, and whatever has been said, it’s not good. Not for me.

I can practically imagine their conversation going something like this:

“Did you hear the video is spreading to social media now? I saw it in someone’s story! God, I can’t believe Nicolas was fucking her in the bathroom.”

“What about her? She fucked him willingly.”

“Look, I know she’s messed up in the head, but I wouldn’t touch her. She’s crazy, and someone needs to put her in her place before she goes too far.”

Acid churns in my stomach. The whispers will spread like poison through these hallowed halls, each telling more twisted than the last. I’ve heard how stories evolve at Shark Bay—how quickly “she kissed him” becomes “she fucked him in front of everyone.” But let them talk. My own reputation can survive anything. I’ve built the cracks and fractures, weathered the storms, and embraced the dark. I’ve made myself into something that thrives in their hatred and feeds on their fear. If they want to see a monster, I’ll give them one.

The victory feels different in the harsh light of day. Last night, high on revenge and adrenaline, I thought I’d finally shown Belle who really holds the power here. But now… Now all I can think about is the way Alex used to look at me. Like I was something precious, not this hollow thing I’ve become. The memory of his touch burns hotter than anyone else’s ever could. I crave it like a drug, chasing a high I can never find. But I’ll keep trying. Anything to numb the pain and keep him away.

A shadow falls across my desk, jolting me from my thoughts. I don’t need to turn to know it’s Erik. The air changes when he’s near, becoming charged with something I can’t quite name. His reflection appears in the window beside mine, those unsettling gray eyes fixed on my face. They remind me of storm clouds gathering on the horizon, promising chaos. He moves like a predator, all careful grace as he claims the chair next to mine. He smirks and sets down a stack of books. “Quite the show you put on last night.” He more or less repeats what he said to me yesterday.

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