Page 47 of Painted Scars
For a full minute, I let the engine idle, waiting for her to wander up to her door and enter. I should leave. Let this go. I’m already in too deep. But I don’t. I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.
CHAPTER 13 - AUGUST
Itell myself I’m here on her roof to keep her safe from monsters, but I’m the one crawling amid the shadows of cold, watching her through her window like a man who’s become one. She craves the stalker fantasy, and it shakes me to my core. Fantasy doesn’t prepare you for the moment you break and become it. Nor does it draw a line between where protection ends, and obsession begins. Not when her danger feels like it belongs to me.
Her dog is downstairs with Murder Spice, curled up on her lap, while she watches some police procedural drama.
Fuck. She’s leaning over her bedside table and sliding it open. Same drawer I slipped the new vibrator in. I tense, not breathing. Will she notice the color difference?
She pauses. Brings the toy closer to her face to inspect. Narrows her eyes. Tilts her head to the window. She runs her thumb over the button in a slow, taunting circle. Her smile shifts into something sharp and knowing. The kind of smile that knows where this fairy godfather parked his broody ass. She disappears into the bathroom for a moment, I’m assuming to clean the toy. When she emerges, she licks and sucks it.
Oh, fuck. I’m the fly in this vixen’s sticky web.
She reclines on the bed, parts her legs and trails the tip up her thighs. Palms sail up her side. Her hips sway to a beat only she hears. Fingers tangle in her hair. Her body moves like it knows she has me on my knees. She moans, and my cock turns into a lightning rod. He wants out. Wants in her.
I could try and pretend this is about being sex-starved, but that’s a lie. This sparkling sex kitten commands every square inch of my brain. Rewires my neurons. Short-circuits my resolve.
Goddamn. I’m toast. Hot pink lingerie. Full breasts. Bare skin.
My brain urges me to abandon ship, climb down from her roof, grab my keys, and break every speed limit until I reach my loft. Never turn back. Never think of her again.
When she cups her breasts and one almost spills out, the last vestiges of my restraint splinters. Is she fantasizing about me? Does she want more? What does she like when she’s alone and teasing herself?
Rules of engagement suggest I should look away. This is private and intimate. But just like nights ago, I can’t. I’m not a good man and don’t pretend to be. Nor does she want one. Glitter Bomb made her desire sound sexy and playful. Stalker buddy with benefits. That’s why I’m up here. I’m not playing anymore. I want to give it to her.
My need turns feral when she guides the pink demon between her legs. I’m seconds away from going full caveman, busting into her bedroom, hauling her off the bed, and making her scream my name.
And then she does. “Grumpy Daddy!”
“Yes, right there!” She sinks the long end of the toy into her pussy, and I’m gone.
Thank you, God.
I text Grayson.
Me: Going in. Listen to the police scanner. Call me if you hear anything.
I don’t entirely trust that this isn’t a set-up and won’t need backup.
I don’t wait for his reply. My hands are already on her windowsill. Unlocked. Naughty, little Glitter Bomb is going to go over my lap for that mistake. I ease it open and climb inside.
She scrambles back into the headboard, then relaxes the second she realizes it's me.
“Ah, so you weren’t far.” That smug smile. I want to kiss it off. Then bite her for good measure. “Where were you hiding? The tree? Bushes? My roof?”
Information she won’t pry out of me.
“You left your window open.” I wag a gloved finger at her. “You invited your stalker in. Spread those legs, and I’ll give you that home invasion fantasy.”
Her eyes hood with lust. “Yes, Grumpy Daddy.”
She obeys like she was born for it, settling back into her reclined position like sin incarnate. I stalk toward her slowly and deliberately, a predator who knows his prey wants to be caught.
Crouched at the foot of the bed, I drag her to the edge, her legs draped over the sides. Wildflowers and candy, her natural scent, drags me back to every night I’ve spent trying to forget her. She was always going to ruin me. I never expected her to beg me for it. I nudge her legs wider. Her scent? Divine. I hook her pink panties and tug them down inch by inch, savoring the reveal. I stuff them into my jacket for a trophy.
“Fuck, baby, you’re soaked for me.” I run my gloved hand along the outside of her thighs, enjoying her shiver of anticipation. “Do you touch this pussy and think of me?”
She bites her lip and nods furiously.
