Page 18 of Marked By my Stalker
She lifts her chin, eyes steady but soft. “Jack,” she says, almost a whisper, “if this is the only night we get… I don’t want to leave with regrets.”
I feel the words settle deep in my chest. She’s not asking for romance. Not asking for promises. She needs something real. Something we can both remember despite the fallout that’ll happen with her mother, with life, with the reality that two people our age don’t belong together.
“I want it to be you,” she says, eyes glancing down, then back up. “I trust you.”
God help me!
I look away, jaw tight, heart thudding. I was never meant to be part of her story, not like this.
“I don’t deserve that,” I say. “You should save it for someone special. It’s something you’ll remember forever.”
She nods, and a soft breeze carries the scent of pine between us. “You are special, and I want to remember this moment right here, forever.”
I swallow hard, eyes fixed on the horizon like it might offer me a way out. “You don’t know what you’re giving,” I say, voice rough, “and I’m not the kind of man who should take it. I’m not gentle, sweetheart. I wouldn’t even know where to start with an angel like you.”
She steps closer, her hand finding mine, small fingers curling around my knuckles like she’s anchoring me to the moment.
“I know who you are, Jack, and I want you.” Her words hit like a slow burn, crawling under my skin, lighting up every part of me I’ve tried to keep buried.
“I’m too old for you,” I mutter. “You deserve someone your age. Someone who can keep up with you.”
She doesn’t argue. Instead, she rises onto her toes and presses her lips to mine. Soft, sure, and heartbreakingly gentle…and that’s what shatters me. Not the kiss itself, but the way she gives it, like she’s not asking for anything but this one truth between us.
I turn to stone, my body doing as it’s been trained to do when difficult emotions arise. Then all at once, my hand finds her waist, I feel her breath catch, and I’m about to ruin this pretty little girl for good.
She kisses me harder, deeper, a tiny moan in her throat as her hand dances over my hard cock.
I’m not sure what part of the moment I lose it in, but I’m gone. Every bit of restraint turns to dust, like it was a barrier built on lies. I kiss her lips and scrape my teeth down over her neck, then onto her shoulder, where I bite hard with a growl.
She jumps as my teeth sink in, a soft moan in her throat as I release the pressure, leaving dark red marks behind.
“You like my marks on your skin, little girl?”
“More,” she pants. “I want more.”
I bite her again, this time on the side of her neck, sucking with pressure as I slide down her neck and up again. “I should take you down the mountain. We can get a room at the inn.”
“Or,” there’s desperation in her tone, “you could take me right here in the open air overlooking the valley. I know I’d never forget that. This is our spot now.”
My fingers slide down the curve of her neck, tracing the line where skin meets the edge of her collarbone, then back up again, slow and deliberate. She shivers beneath my touch, and I feel it like a spark jumping skin to skin. “You sure?”
She nods, and I see the wild clarity in her hazel eyes.
I kiss her again, slower this time, letting the moment stretch and settle. My hands find her waist, then her hips, as the wind moves through the trees like it’s listening. I haven’t seen a car drive by in a while, but this road is still traveled quitefrequently. Another reason I should stop, but at this point, I’ll bury whoever tries pulling over.
Her small hand lands against my cock as I lift her up onto the bench seat of my truck. Thick thighs spread and her legs dangle down, reminding me how small and delicate she is. For some reason, the thought of breaking in her tiny little body sends an ache straight through me.
Breeze behind me, I lift off her pumpkin sweater and lean her back onto the seat with a groan. Heavy tits spill out, nipples hard and dark, skin taut and supple. I lean in, suckling up with pressure as she moans and squirms beneath me. Mark after mark left red against her skin with worship and privilege. I should probably try to hide the evidence of my claim but the urge to leave my print is too strong.
“I need to feel you, Jack.” Her soaking pussy scrubs up against my hips as she begs, and though I know there’s a version of me that will second guess this moment, there’s another version that needs it more. Needshermore. Needs this memory to feed lifetimes to come.
“Put your pretty little hand on your pussy, sweetheart. Touch it for me.” Birds sing as the sun sets lower behind the mountains.
She does as I’ve asked, sliding her finger between her slick folds as I unbuckle my jeans then shove them to the ground, my boots still in place. It’s not ideal, but as my hips start to buck, I know there’s no other way.
I grip her tight and pull her to the edge of the seat, watching her long blonde hair cascade off the edge as I sink into her tight,tightlittle pussy.
Fuck!
