Page 41 of X Marks the Stalker
“How does it feel?” he asks, his breathing heavier.
“Strange,” I admit with a breathless laugh. “Cold. Sweet. Sticky. Good.”
“Now slide it inside,” he says. “Just the tip.”
I position the rounded end of the lollipop at my entrance, pausing.
“Is this sanitary?” I ask, partly teasing, partly concerned.
“Actually,” he says, “sugar has been used as an antibacterial agent historically, with a concentration of approximately twenty-five percent being sufficient to inhibit bacterial growth through osmotic pressure. Though I should note that commercial lollipops contain various additives beyond simple sucrose, so the antimicrobial properties may vary. Studies suggest that?—”
I burst out laughing, the tension breaking. “Are you seriously giving me a scientific analysis of lollipop hygiene right now?”
A pause, then a self-conscious chuckle. “Sorry. I retreat into data when I’m nervous.”
“I make you nervous?” I ask, flattered.
“Yes,” he admits, his honesty disarming. “I’ve never done this before.”
“What, voyeuristic candy play?”
“No—well, yes, that too—but I meant...this. Whatever this is. Involving myself. Breaking protocol.”
Something about his vulnerability—this powerful man who can hack secure systems and break into buildings without detection, yet stumbles over his words when aroused, sends a fresh wave of heat through me.
“Well,” I say, pressing the lollipop against my entrance, “let me help you focus on something besides statistics.”
I push the candy further inside me, gasping at the unusual fullness. The handle provides the perfect grip as I move it in shallow thrusts.
“Is this better than data?” I ask, my voice breathy.
“God, yes,” he groans, all scientific detachment gone.
“Tell me what to do next,” I ask, enjoying both his direction and his occasional lapses into adorable awkwardness.
“Keep going,” he says, his voice rougher now. “Take it deeper.”
I moan. The hard, unyielding candy stretches me in a way that’s so different from fingers or toys.
“God,” I moan, my head falling back. “This is so weird. And hot.”
“You’re beautiful,” he groans. “So fucking beautiful like this. Now take it out.”
I withdraw the lollipop, watching as it emerges, glistening with more than just sugar.
“Put it back in your mouth,” he commands, voice strained.
My eyes widen, shock colliding with desire as something primal and forbidden ignites in my core. I bring the lollipop back to my lips, hesitating only briefly before sliding it into my mouth. The taste of candy mingles with my own flavor, creating something new.
“Jesus,” he breathes. “You’re incredible.”
I suck the lollipop clean, making sure he can hear the sounds before pulling it from my mouth with a pop.
“Is this what you had in mind when you installed those cameras?” I ask, voice husky.
“If I’m being honest, I had a seventy-eight point three percent expectation you’d call the police when you found them. A twenty-one point five percent chance you’d try to trace them back to me. This scenario didn’t even register on my probability matrix,” he admits with a strained laugh. “But I’m not complaining.”
I laugh again, charmed by his analytical mind even in this most intimate moment. “You calculated the odds of me finding your cameras?”
