Page 129 of Love Me Stalk Me
CAL
This is a mistake.
I know that.
And still, I can't stop myself.
The moment she sends that picture—her body, bare, stretched across her navy blue sheets like a fucking dream—I'm gone. The warm glow of her bedside lamp casting shadows across the gentle curves of her hips, the fullness of her thighs, the soft swell of her breasts.
I want to hear her.
I need to hear her.
I want to listen to her fall apart in my ear.
I want to stroke my cock while she does it, chasing my own release in time with hers.
I want to think about her lips on mine when I let go.
Fuck.
I quickly flip through my phone, making sure the voice modulator is active.
This is so fucking risky.
Texting is one thing. A call is another.
A call is dangerous.
But she's been drinking, and she wants this.
Wants me.
No one's ever taken an interest in her like this before—that much is obvious. She's so pent up, frisky with need, weighed down by so much shame about her body, about her desires.
And I should be building her upthe right way.
She trusts me. That much was clear tonight.
And instead of treating that trust like it's fucking sacred?—
I press Call.
There's a pause.
"H-hello?"
Her voice is soft, with the faint huskiness that comes from drinking wine.
I close my eyes, fisting my cock at the sound.
Fuck.
"Hi, pretty girl."
She inhales sharply.
"Oh my God."
