Page 38 of Jealous Stalker

Still warm. Black as tar. The opposite of how she takes hers. The opposite of my beautiful princess.

I take it in my hands like it’s precious metal.

Hold it for a second. Pretend it’s her palms I’m cradling.

Then I drink.

Slow. Intentional. Letting it coat my tongue and slide down my throat, even if it’s gone lukewarm.

It doesn’t matter. Not when she made it forme.

Every drop tastes like a reward from a noble queen. From the most beautiful girl in the world lowering herself to notice me.

To be kind tome.

When I’m done, I pull out my phone.

Angle the camera carefully—just my mouth, my jaw, the curve of my fingers wrapped around the cup.

No face. No identifying background.

I take the picture and I hit send, then old my breath until I hear the soft ping from her phone. I know it won’t wake her but my heart stops with terror and exhilaration, just the same.

Me: [4:21 a.m.]

Perfect. Just like you said.

See you at the shop.

Me: [4:22 a.m.]

Sit facing the window. Don’t turn around.

I want to watch you first.

I stare at the message for a long time after I hit send. The image lingers too—her words, that final confession echoing in my skull like a siren call.

And since we’re sharing things now... I’m not wearing any panties tonight.

My jaw clenches. My breath shortens.

It’s time to go. Don’t even think about?—

I surge upright. Knowing what I’m going to do before even before I take my next breath. I have to…needto see her.

I’ll die if I don’t. I know what coming close to death feels like. And this…notdoing this this feels much worse.

I prowl silent, untamed, down her hallway to the door she left ajar tonight. And even before I nudge it open on the hinges I oiled to ensure they were quiet for my depraved visits, I see her.

It.

My girl pretty pussy. Washed in moonlight. One day I’ll turn her over my knee and spank her ass for displaying herself like this.

But tonight…fuck tonight I stand in awe and worship. My cock is a ninety-degree pole of utter misery, jetting jizz and throbbing like the world is ending. And it just might be. This might the last beautiful thing I see on this earth before I die.

She’s not clean shaven, and fuck I love that. Bare pussies never held much appeal. Sure, I’d fuck it out of driven need but I preferred the natural way a woman was meant to be, neatly trimmed if absolutely necessary.

Ella has kept her bush trimmed. Neat. Just like her. Soft downy hair my fingers yearn to caress arrow down to the barest hint of a hood. But what makes my mouth water like a fire hydrant, what makes me jam my fist into my mouth to stifle my wounded groan, is the puffy lips outlining her sweet pussy.

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