Page 1 of Freaks Of Nature

Emily

I fell into their trap,

and now I’m caught in the crossfire of their rivalry.

What I wanted was excitement, but what I got was twice as much as I expected… and almost too much for me to take.

Almost.

It’s wrong. I know it is. He’s crazy, dangerous,

and he’s been terrorizing me for his sheer entertainment…

The old me would’ve been appalled by the idea,

but I wanted to break out of that shell, didn’t I?

That’s why I left.

I should grab the bull by its horns and ride him,

or however that saying goes.

Thenight I caught her scent . . .

It’s 2:36 am. Scrolling through my phone, I sit on my bike in the same spot across the diner where I park every night. I know it’s late, but I don’t want to go home. I’m itching for a fix.

Not drugs. I don’t fuck with that shit, or drink for that matter. My itch is of a darker, more depraved sort, and it’s one I can’t satisfy alone.

I glance up from the screen right when she comes out of the alley. The sidewalk is busy, and she doesn’t look my way, but my eyes rivet to her silhouette in those second-skin jeans and that black tank top.

My cock twitches.

Fuck, she’s fine. Her tits bounce with her steps, and her shirt is low-cut, giving me a raging hard-on as I imagine sliding my shaft in between them.

A breeze plays in her dark hair. My breath stalls when she sweeps a strand behind her ear, and I get a clear view of her face.

The city noise disappears.

Her lips strike me stupid. They’re full and lush, and I know I won’t rest until I hear them moan my name.

My throat goes dry before I notice my mouth is hanging open. I run my tongue across my own lips on reflex and swallow.

I want her.

My free hand slides to my crotch, urging patience into the growing ache.

And Iwillhave her, too.

Her eyes flick around, but they never cross the street to where I sit. She keeps walking, utterly oblivious to the sick desire she has woken in me. She’s mine. My obsession. My poison. All fucking mine.

When she moves past my line of sight, my stare drops to her ass, and that’s my cue. Fixated on her backside, I dismount to pick up pursuit.

I pull my hood down to hide my face; it’s part of the game.

Weaving through the crowd, I stay on her tail. Every now and then she throws a glance over her shoulder like she can feel me following her, but I make sure not to attract her attention. I know how to blend in. She won’t see me until I want her to.

She turns down another alley—one I know is dark and gets little foot traffic.