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My entire life was devoted to caring for others. I wanted someone to take care of me for once. I wanted someone to want me. No, need me. I wanted a man so obsessed that he hacked into cameras to watch me when he couldn't sleep. I wanted him to monitor my location data, order me a home security system so no one else could break into my house, and threaten to murder anyone who hurt me. I didn’t want him morally grey. I wanted someone with a soul as black as night. Someone who would burn the world down for me and not lose a single minute of sleep over it.
Maybe I should be worried that she was smart enough to figure out who I was, but it only excited me. It felt like a game we played, with me constantly staying three steps ahead of her to avoid getting caught. The challenge was thrilling.
“You put my seat heater on for me,” she said. I nodded. For whatever reason, empathy was starting to come easy for me with her.
I was trying to be a gentleman, had promised myself that tonight and this ride home was about reassuring her that she could trust me with her safety – after all, it was a big ask to get someone to agree to sex with a knife-wielding stranger – but if she kept looking at me like that, I didn’t know if I could keep myself in check for much longer.
“Did you think you were being funny by posting such a sappy thirst trap after what you did to me?” I nodded vigorously this time, glad she couldn’t see my shit-eating grin. She huffed out a breath and looked away, but not before I caught the edge of her lips tilting up.
Why did it feel so good to care for her, even on such a micro level? Was it because I’d never had anyone to call my own before? Or was this some inborn instinct all men had that, up until now, was suppressed by the cocktail of prescription drugs I’d been on since puberty? Either way, I wasn’t questioning it. Taking care of her felt good.
She should be wifed up by now, spoiled and cherished like the queen she was. Men were idiots. That was the only explanation.
I love him
“You’re gonna have to do better than one sappy video if you want me to forgive you for watching me without my consent,” Aly said between bites. I nodded to show I understood. Was I sorry for what I’d done? No, not at all, but I wouldn’t deny her right to be angry, and if there were a chance she’d forgive me for it, I’d find a million ways to apologize for upsetting her until she gave in.
I smiled and started to reach out to pat her knee as a way to say, “You’re welcome,” but the gun jammed back into my ribs, and I stalled out halfway there. “No touchy. Still angry.”
Feisty Aly was hot. I couldn’t wait until she forgave me so I could start finding ways to piss her off again. Masochistic? Maybe.
I’d downloaded her user data off the app, and she’d spent a staggering 200 hours staring at me. When you looked at it that way, I seemed like a saint. I’d watched her less than 40 so far.
What was it she’d said about my forearms in that one comment? That she wanted to trace each vein with her tongue? Testing my hypothesis, I gripped the steering wheel tighter, making them pop. Aly made a small, helpless sound and yanked her gaze away, dropping it back to her dwindling baggie of trail mix. I tried to stifle my smugness and failed spectacularly. She wanted me. Bad. Maybe more than I wanted her, which was saying something.
Forearms!!!
Did they just say something rude to her? The truck honked, and I heard the obvious sound of a catcall. Oh, hell no.
I lifted the knife with one hand and twiddled my fingers hello with the other. Boo, motherfuckers. The driver gunned the gas, running the red light as he took off into the night. I grinned and got back in the car, flipping the knife and catching it by the tip before offering it to Aly hilt-first. She eyed me for a long moment before setting the gun down to take it. “You’re deranged. You know that?”
I shrugged. Deranged. Protective. Same thing.
“I want to see it,” she said. No, she didn’t, fuckwit, I told myself.
“All this time, you’ve been trying to reassure me that I’m safe with you,” she said, sliding the blunted side of the blade higher. “But did you ever stop to consider whether or not you were safe with me?” I nearly groaned. Aly in her villain era? I would bankrupt myself for front-row tickets to that show.
“I won’t do it if you don’t promise to be a good boy,” she crooned. Praise kink: unlocked.
“I see the knife kink goes both ways.” I guess it fucking did.
“I’m still mad,” she said. “This isn’t for you.” Okay, but it felt a little like it was for me. Her hand was stroking up my dick, after all. “This is something I’ve dreamed about for months, and I’m not going to deny myself a chance to touch you just because we’re in a fight.” Awww. Our first official fight.
“Make a U-turn at the next stoplight,” the British woman told me. Aly froze. Uh-oh. Her lips popped free – no, no, no – and she sat up, knife fully rotated now, blade hovering over my skin. “Did you just deviate from the directions?” she asked. I whimpered in response. I fucking whimpered.
“Bad boys don’t get rewarded,” she said. No. Goddamnit. I did not need a brat kink on top of my newly awakened praise kink. The two were supposed to cancel each other out, not act as amplifiers.
Or maybe I just had an Aly kink, and everything she said triggered this kind of response in me. Maybe being together meant that all her desires were about to become mine, too. Please, God. Don’t let her have a fisting kink, I thought.
How can I be turned on and laugh so much at this man?!?
This time, she started on my stomach, planting hot, drugging kisses on my abs before she parted her lips and nipped at my skin hard enough to pinch. Was a biting kink a thing? It must be because I was rock-hard for it.
I was going to come. Hard. I tapped her shoulder, trying to get her attention. She swatted me away like she didn’t need the distraction right now. Fuck. Oh, fuck. Her mouth. I tapped her again, more insistent this time. A pop sounded as she pulled herself off my dick. “If you keep interrupting me, I’ll never find out what you taste like when you come.”
She moaned like she welcomed it, so I thrust harder. A sharp stab of pain shot through my right hand. What the fuck? I glanced down, and my eyes flashed wide. Aly had just accidentally stabbed me. I jerked my hand away from the knife to see how bad it was, but Aly did that thing with her mouth again, and between the resulting spike of pleasure and the searing pain, I fell over the edge, spine bowing forward, losing all control as I came inside her welcoming, perfect mouth.
“What the fuck did you do?” she said, grabbing it to assess the damage. “Oh, Jesus, I think you need stitches.” Was there a nice way to tell her that I, in fact, had done nothing, and it was her who had done the maiming?
I’d stabbed him. Jesus take me now, I had stabbed a man while giving him head. There was no coming back from this. My days ended here. Any second now, I would spontaneously combust from the humiliation.
This man had watched me at work, decided he needed to play white knight, and then broke into my car to give me a ride home. And what had I done? Oh, you know, waited all of five minutes before face-diving onto his dick.
Fred had jumped into the Faceless Man’s lap the second he sat down at the table, and now he lay there curled up and purring like my stalker was his new favorite human in the world. My life had gotten really weird lately.
What was it about smartass men that was so attractive? Was it because they never seemed to take life or themselves too seriously?
He pointed at me, then toward my bedroom. Then he clapped his hands together, tilted them sideways, and rested his head against them, miming sleep. I nearly kicked at the floor like a petulant child. But I don’t wanna go to bed! I want to stay up late and get railed!
He made deranged look more adorable than concerning, which was why he was so dangerous.
I really hoped he wasn’t planning to murder me because I’d feel real dumb when it happened.
There had been many times I’d felt like stabbing men in my life. It was just my luck that the one time I actually did was accidental.
Sometime while I’d slept, someone had broken into my house and put their leftovers in my fridge. Gee, I wonder who could have done such a dastardly thing?
Have you ever heard of the word boundaries? I texted the Faceless Man. Doesn’t sound familiar, he wrote back. Can you use it in a sentence?
Did you do any other nefarious things besides shovel and stock my fridge that I should know about? I asked. Watched me while I slept? Placed more hidden cameras? He sent a thinking emoji. Nothing comes to mind. But you do snore real cute. My eyes flashed wide. I do NOT snore. Like a chipmunk with a cold. Wheeze, wheeze, siiiiigh. Keep making fun of me, and I might stab you again. And do not say “kinky”! Kink- uh, I mean…
Aly? You still there? Or are you off somewhere plotting my demise? How did he know me so well already? Oh, right. The stalking.
Tyler liked to leave his socks lying around, but he’d been doing it less and less. He complained the other day that he was running out of them and the dryer must be eating them somehow. It wasn’t. I was throwing them away to try and break his bad habit. Mean? Maybe. But according to the whiteboard hanging by my desk, it had been five days since the last sock was left on the living room floor – a new record! – so I wasn’t about to stop.
The way he shows he cares is so fucked up but special at the same time
Was Aly turned on right now? Did she find me attractive? I felt both elated and slightly betrayed. Well, this was a weird feeling. I was jealous of myself. Why? It wasn’t like the masked version of me had any claim on her.
Her ex-hookup’s roommate was flirting with her, and she did not know what to do about it. Inside, I was cackling.
Mwah ha ha ha ha. My evil plan was working. Step one: get Aly to drop her guard. Step two: fuck her on this couch. Oh, wait, no. I’d skipped a few steps somewhere.
“Would you rather ejaculate one tadpole-sized sperm every time you come or a hundred regular-sized ones that can all talk?” I sucked in a breath full of coffee and immediately started choking. Aly patted me on the back while I leaned forward, hacking as my lungs tried to expel the liquid invasion.
Josh was the Faceless Man. I didn’t know how I knew it, but I did.
“Let go, Aly,” he rumbled. “I’ll catch you when you fall.”
On a scale of 1-10, how mad are you about the tracker? he asked. One being you need a day or two to cool off, and ten being we need to start drafting a joint custody agreement for Fred.
I had no idea how he kept doing this to me: pissing me off one second and making me want to burst out laughing the next. I’d never met anyone quite like him, and his personality was addicting because of it.
I’m only willing to allow you a few days. After that, I’m coming for you, baby, whether you’re ready or not. And until then, I’ll be watching.
“I hope you like the sound of ringing, too, because I’m getting you a collar with a bell on it so you can’t sneak up on me again.” Despite my pain, I grinned. “Kinky.” “Goddamn it,” Aly muttered.
