Page 28 of Stalk

“You coming back, or are you just gonna stand there and stare all night?” she asks with a sultry smirk.

I grin and crawl back on the bed. She lays back down so I can hover over her. I trail kisses from above her panty line, up to her stomach, across the swells of her breasts, and all the way up her neck and jaw until I reach her lips.

We spend time making out before I undo her bra. I was raised to cherish and respect women’s bodies like temples. I never want them to think I’m with them just to get off myself. Both partners should feel comfortable. Both partners shouldalwaysfind pleasure—not just the man.

Once her bra is discarded, I spend time sucking and playing with her. Her hips grind into me, seeking friction, so I rip off her flimsy thong, too. My dick might not always do what I tell it to, but I always,always, give good head. I slip down between her thighs and kiss her pussy lightly. Rachel moans in response, and I smile to myself before using my tongue and fingers. In a couple of minutes, she’s orgasming on my tongue.

My cock is ready to go now, standing at full attention. I exhale a breath of relief as I sit up and retrieve a condom from the wallet inside my pocket, then strip.

“You want to?” I ask, looking back over my shoulder.

Rachel nods. “Can I taste you, too? Before that?”

Oh shit.“Fuck. Yeah, okay.”

Rachel gets off the bed and walks over, then kneels in between my legs. I relax and throw my head back as she wraps her wet mouth around my cockhead and slowly takes more of me inside.

Kissing her didn’t make me feel much. Eating her out was fun. This… feels good, but I can already feel myself losing my hard on. I try to focus. Relax. Breathe.

And I’m totally soft.

Rachel leans back on her heels, popping me out of her mouth. “Is it okay? Did I do something wrong?” Her lips turn down ever so slightly, and humiliation seeps into my core, warming my blood.

“Fuck. No, no. Not at all, Rachel,” I say, honestly not wanting her to believe this has anything to do withher.I can easily lie to the people I murder in cold blood. Lying to this lovely woman, on the other hand, makes me want to slam my head against a brick wall. “I’m sorry,bellissima. I think I’m just still exhausted from the jet lag.”

“Oh,” she says. I can tell from the tone in her voice that she’s not quite convinced.

I lean forward and tip her chin up with my finger. “I promise it’s not you. You’re wonderful. Maybe we can try again another night while I’m in town?”

Her posture relaxes ever so slightly. “I’d like that.”

Once she’s gone, I rest my forehead on the closed door, defeat and shame making me quiver. I hate this feeling. It takes me over until all I can do to release it is punch the door and scream. “What the fuck iswrongwith me? Fuck!”

CHAPTER 12

Ren

Cleo ends up staying at my place until late in the evening. It was nice to decompress and spend time with my best friend for a while. These kinds of nights make me feel relatively normal compared to how I feel in my everyday life.

After hugging Cleo and walking her out, I head back inside to clean up the remnants of our discarded snacks and beverages in the living room. Once the trash is put away and the dishes are loaded, I lean against my kitchen counter and take out my phone for the first time in several hours.

Eventually, without dwelling on it too much, I go back into my office to retrieve the card Mattia gave me. Cleo did a very good job of convincing me to reach out to him. She’s always made me go out of my comfort zone ever since we grew close in high school. Sometimes, that makes me feel uneasy. But more often than not, her gentle pushes end up leading me to where I need to be, so I’ve learned not to question her advice all that much anymore.

I don’t want to call Mattia, but I will send him a text. I’m not a fan of making phone calls unless absolutely necessary, and I don’t particularly know why. Unless I’m face to face with aperson, I guess I prefer to text. Something about only hearing someone’s voice on the other line makes me anxious.

After typing in his number into a new chat, my eyes glaze over as I stare at the screen. Mattia said it’s his burner phone, but I still can’t give away too much information. I have to keep my message as vague as possible.

I don’t know how long I stare at the screen, but after a while, I finally type out the text and hit send before I can chicken out. I save the number to my contacts under the name “Matty,” just to air on the side of caution. It’s close enough to his real name. I guess.

Ren: It’s R from the Mexican place. Can we meet tomorrow?

After sending the text, I lock my phone, turn out the light, and head to my bedroom. As soon as I slump down onto my bed, my phone vibrates. My nerves skyrocket, and grow more intense when I see it’s a text fromMatty.

Matty: When and where? Evening is better for me.

Shit.I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Honestly, I kind of assumed that I wouldn’t hear back from him until tomorrow morning—if at all.

Ren: 8 pm at Dorothy’s Ale House?

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