Sunshine and The Stalker

We’re at a standoff. He wants me to give in. I don’t want to. But I don’t want him to stop. I spread my legs farther, my hips rolling against his fingers.

“You’re so filthy, Alice.” He chuckles wolfishly. “Come for me. Use my fingers for your pleasure, little girl,” he growls, his body rigid. He’s barely holding onto his restraint. He teases my clit with his thumb while his other fingers slide against my opening, but never fully entering me. I cry out loudly, lost in the moment, as my body writhes in pleasure.

He doesn’t stop.

“Please,” I beg.

He rubs me harder, faster, pressing against my clit, causing my toes to curl. I see stars as my body convulses, the slick juices of my orgasm leaking from me and drenching his fingers.

“That’s it, my dirty girl. Come for me. Come for your filthy stalker.” His words wash over me as I leap from the edge into the darkness, and I cry out his name.

James. James. James.

5

James

“James. James. James.” My name rolls off her sweet tongue like a chanted prayer. As though she’s a forest nymph praying for the gods to shower their blessings upon her.

I’ll be her god.

I’ll shower her with pleasure until she’s soaked to the bone and shivering for a reprieve.

“Ahh,” she cries out, her body jolting when a cute-as-fuck orgasm steals her from me. Her eyes roll back, and her back arches, a sultry moan tumbling past her lips. I rub her slowly and let her find her way back to reality one breath at a time.

I take a step back from her and bring my fingertips to my nose. Her scent is clean and sweet and fucking unlike anything I’ve smelled before. It makes my cock strain in my slacks. I need this woman like I need my next breath.

“Coat. Shoes. Now,” I bark out. “We’re leaving.”

She blinks at me in confusion, still drunk from her orgasm. “Where will we go?”

On a slow ride to hell where I will taint every pure cell of your body with the evil sexual darkness that is me.

“My place.”

Her answer is given to me by her amber eyes. A flaming desire burning like fire rages there, desperate for the hell my body promises hers. We don’t need words. Stories can be told in silence.

Ours is steady breathing.

Narrowed, challenging eyes.

A fisting of my hand and a biting of her lip.

Silent yet powerful and predicting a future of unfiltered pleasure. I’ll give it to her raw. Show her what it feels like to lose your mind and control together at once.

She flitters past me and disappears deeper into the apartment. I throw on my coat and wait impatiently at the door. Her farewell party waits with me, circling my feet like four demons supporting the devil in his nefarious plans for an angel.

And fuck . . . she is an angel.

Even in her stupid yellow coat.

Sunshine and warmth and youth and mine.

I hold my hand out to her, and she walks over to me, curious but wary. As she should be. I clasp her hand into mine and all but drag her through the building. We trek through the snow outside that’s falling heavily now, but the flats she threw on are no match for the depth.

Too slow.

I need her to hurry the fuck up.

Bending down, I grab her by her waist and hoist the tiny thing over my shoulder. She lets out a loud, happy squeal that makes my black heart thrum to life. A devil has feelings, it would seem. She’s cracked me right open and dug deep inside. I like her there.

I give her thighs a squeeze before I storm through the blistering wind and relentless snow. When I walk into my hotel, I bypass the front desk, ignoring all the stares, and head straight down the hall to my private elevator.

“It stopped snowing,” she sasses. “Since we’re inside and all. You can put me down.”

Ignoring her, I enter the code to the elevator and step inside when it opens, my haul secured over my shoulder.

“Is this a normal thing for you?” she asks, her tone mildly irritated.

“What? Kidnapping bratty, beautiful girls who make poor fashion choices?” I ask and slap the back of her thighs with my palm. “Nope. First time, I must say.”

“You’re, like, the biggest freak I’ve ever met, and, like, I can’t even be mad at you,” she grumbles. “Believe me. I’m trying. But it’s hard when you smell so good.”

The doors open to my private suite, and my lips part too. A smile. She makes me fucking smile. I pack that thought away for later. Not much in this life brings me joy. Pleasure? Yes. Joy? Never.

But Cerys Youngblood, crazy girl with crazy hair and an abhorrent affection for disgusting liquor and demon cats?

Most definitely.

“The floors are amazing,” she says in a dry tone. “Prettiest floors I’ve ever seen. I wonder what the rest of the place looks like.”