My Best Friend, My Stalker by Jessa Kane

Author:Jessa Kane [Kane, Jessa]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2021-02-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Granger

I pace back and forth in front of the bed.

My stomach is in fucking knots. A lot like the ones I used to tie Peyton to my headboard. This is bad. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I told myself as soon as we were in a real relationship, I would stop following her, watching her at work, during the night, following her everywhere she goes. But she found out about my extra-curricular activities before I could make myself stop and now I could lose her.

There’s a logical part of me that knows I never would have stopped, though. Twenty years into our marriage, I’d be stalking her. Until the end of my life, I’d be watching from the edges of her awareness, making sure no other man tries to claim what’s mine. Making sure she’s safe and happy. What else am I supposed to do when Peyton walking the earth is the equivalent of having my heart walking around outside my body?

I stop pacing long enough to take stock of her pale face, her chattering teeth. She’s scared. Might as well rip out my insides. Peyton experiencing fear is the last thing I want. It’s worse torture than the cock cage.

“Granger, you can’t keep me tied up forever,” she says, pulling on the restraints. “Please. I’m scared.”

“Scared?” I rip my fingers through my hair, frustration clawing at my throat. “Don’t you know I’d put a bullet between my own eyes before I hurt you?”

Processing that, she wets her lips. “I won’t call the police.”

“Peyton, the police are the last thing I’m concerned about.” My voice is threadbare, raw. “I just can’t have you running away from me. I’ll go insane.”

She goes limp on the bed and I can’t help it, her surrender turns my dick hard. I’ve never seen anything more luscious in my life than Peyton tied to my bed with her blouse unbuttoned to her navel, the skirt rucked up from struggling. Maybe I am sick. Maybe I’m a psychopath. Her fear horrifies me, but this…this offering she represents has a very different effect on my body.

A voice in the back of my head urges me to kiss her, fuck her until she gives in and understands this relationship is inevitable. Until she wants me back again. But my refusal to do that is what separates me from her stepbrother. I need her to need me back. I need her to look at me like she did when I showed up at the school. As if I was her savior. As if she couldn’t live without me.

“How long have you been following me?” She watches me carefully. “Did it start b-before that night on the road?”

“No.” I shake my head. “No, we met by chance. I turned the corner and there you were. A beautiful fairy. Mine to love, mine to keep safe.”

Her lips part on the word love. And I want to say more. Want to tell her exactly how deep my feelings run. Love? Love is only the tip of the iceberg.

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