Page 199 of Love Me Stalk Me
"Only the best for you, pretty girl," I reply.
She snorts lightly, shaking her head, but I see the way her shoulders relax.
She's starting to enjoy herself. Good.
"Now, I want you to feel it against your skin."
She pauses and looks at the screen, as if the animated version of me is going to give her further instruction.
"Like, how?"
"Over your clothes to start. Just place it against your body, drag it along your thighs, your stomach. Get used to the feel of it."
She hesitates, then obeys, placing the toy against the curve of her thigh. Her fingers tighten around it as she drags it up slowly, across her stomach, tracing the shape of herself through the fabric of her pajamas.
I wait until she moves it higher—and then I turn it on.
She jolts. Lets out a startled gasp. "You didn't tell me you were going to do that!"
I chuckle. "You'll learn, pretty girl. I like the way surprises look on you."
She exhales shakily, dragging it up higher, getting used to the sensation.
I watch, enjoying every second of it. Her thighs press together. Her breathing gets heavier. She bites her lip.
Perfect.
I turn it off. She whimpers. I turn it back on. She gasps.
"You like that?" I ask.
She nods quickly, cheeks burning, her other hand clutching at the sheets.
"Say it," I murmur.
She hesitates.
Then soft, breathy, barely above a whisper—"I like it."
Fuck.
I grip the sheets tighter, holding onto something solid.
"Good girl," I murmur again, watching her melt like the words are made of heat.
"Now," I continue, my tone dropping into something dark and edged with hunger. "Take off your clothes."
She stills. Her fingers pause at the hem of her shirt, her brows furrowing slightly. "How secure is this?" she asks, voice quiet, uncertain.
I lean forward slightly, my own voice unwavering. "No one will ever seethis but me."
And that's the fucking truth. I'd burn the world down before I let anyone else see her like this.
She visibly relaxes. "You know, this is the second time in two days I'm getting naked for men." Her voice is laced with amusement.
I go still. My grip tightens. I bite down on the growl rising in my throat, forcing my tone to stay even.
"You mean me," I correct, but she's too drunk to realize what I've just admitted. She's still thinking of me—Caleb—as someone separate from Callahan. That she sees me as one of the only men she's trusted with her body.
