Page 112 of Fixation
A tease.
Come find me.
My cock thickens. Breathing grows shallow. Pride surges through me.
I did this to her. And her, sweet Harper, she has to hate herself for needing me.
I stroke my thumb over the screen, staring at this beautiful woman.
Her red hair is twisted into a messy bun I want to pull loose, strand by strand.
Her body, though it isn’t covered in my clothes, is just as gorgeous. She wears high-rise jeans and a black T-shirt.
Slender, overworked hands hold a mug between them.
String lights hang across the roof, the railing, the plants, bringing out the softness in Harper’s face. The effervescence of her.
A man like me should never even go near a woman like her.
I’m taking her, anyway.
I’m done waiting.
Tonight, I’ll rip each piece of clothing off her. Wind my fist in her hair.
Spread her legs. Pleasure her, then empty myself inside her pussy.
Love her so thoroughly she won’t remember how to exist without me.
I’ll fuck babies into her. Until her belly swells and the world knows she’s mine.
I’ll do all of that when she doesn’t have company.
Her friend Darla is there, in a black pantsuit matching her black hair. The thief has stolen my place by Harper’s side. Physically and emotionally.
They’re huddled one next to the other. Smiling. Talking.
Without ever noticing it, I’ve been leaning closer to my phone. My fingers twitch.
Theoretically, I could be there within the next twenty minutes. I’d sneak up behind them, hurl Darla over the railing and watch her spine crack.
There’d be no joy in the act. None whatsoever.
It’d be a necessity.
That way, I could have Harper all to myself.
Except—no. Harper will forgive me for many things. She’s shown me that already, even if she refuses to admit it.
She hasn’t gone to the police. She left me that note. Thanked me in person.
The basement changed her. Changed me. That was sacred.
However, murdering her childhood friend won’t fly.
No matter how many days I lock her up in my basement.
Not that I’m opposed to kidnapping her for the rest of her life.
