Page 6 of Marked by my Stalker (Inked and Possessive. Rugged Mountain Ink #1)

Jack

I shift in the seat, pretending it’s just the upholstery sticking to my skin. It’s not. It’s her. The way she climbed into the truck all quiet, trembling, holding herself together.

Why does that do something to me? Why am I thinking of holding her close until all the pain goes away? About keeping her safe from assholes like Brick? About stripping that cute, little, pumpkin sweater straight off her and suckling those firm tits?

I grip the steering wheel harder than I need to, telling myself it’s just adrenaline, just the fallout from laying Brick out on the pavement, but my heartbeat hasn’t settled, and deep down I know it’s not about the punch.

It’s everything else. Her curved frame, her smooth skin, all that pretty hair…

the fact that she’s saving herself like an innocent little prize.

She’s sitting inches away and I can feel the air vibrating between us. I try not to look, but my gaze drifts anyway. Her knees are pulled up, her fingers knotted together like she’s afraid of unraveling.

I want to say something, anything, but I don’t trust my voice right now, and that picture of her and her dad in the hospital at birth didn’t help matters any. I’m pretty sure that had to have been the year after we met. He was probably home on leave.

Jesus, what’s wrong with me?

I breathe in, out, repeat, and I keep driving. I know what I did. I jerked off last night. I got it all out of my system. In reality, though, all that did was fuel the fire, and probably taught my brain and my cock that thoughts of her mean pleasure.

Fuck!

She clears her throat, and I figure I need to speak before this gets more awkward. “Sorry about the punch.” I drag in a heavy breath. “I probably could’ve been more civilized.”

“Oh,” she sighs, “you don’t have to be sorry for punching him. He deserved it. I caught him sneaking out of some girl’s room on my way down.”

“What?” My head turns sharply toward her.

I don’t feel as bad now.

“Yeah, apparently, he was getting homework ,” she laughs under her breath, “whatever that means.”

“You okay?” I try to keep my tone as soft as possible, but I’m ragged with anger. “You sure you feel up to going out? You’ve been through a lot today and its only noon.”

“Oh yeah,” she smiles softly, “I’m glad we’re going out. Otherwise, I’d just sit around all afternoon feeling sorry for myself. I mean… if you still feel like going.” There’s anxiety in her voice. She’s probably still shaken.

“I still want to go.” I straighten “Thought about this trip all night.” What am I saying? “I mean… about the places to get the best shots. I like this place a local told me about called Echo Ridge. I’ll take you there first.”

She twists toward me, tone bright, her hand on the console with mine, nearly brushing against me as she says, “What’s so special about it?”

“On a clear day like today, you get views of the peaks, a stream, and the ranches that have settled in the valley. Sometimes, you’ll even see wild horses running across the field.”

“Wild horses!” Her face lights. “There are wild horses up here?”

“Not always, but if you’re lucky,” I tap the steering wheel, grinning into the sunlight, “you’ll hear their hooves before you see them. Sounds like thunder rolling across the grass.”

She leans against the window, eyes lighting up with what looks like hope. “I’ve never seen wild horses before. Nebraska is one hundred percent flat plains and a lack of inspiration.”

“Well, we’ll find them today.” I say it like it’s a promise to see her smile, and now I know I’ll be searching all day for them. I can’t let her down.

She smiles and leans in, her arm brushing mine.

“When I was little, my dad used to take us out to the dump to see the bears. We’d sit in the car, window down, ice cream in hand watching as they pawed through the trash.

They’d let out these low grunts, and every once in a while, they’d get curious, and we’d have to roll up the windows really fast as they lumbered up the trail toward the car.

It’s one of my favorite memories. There’s something so different about seeing a truly wild animal. ”

“There is. They’re alive in a way we forget we’re supposed to be.”

She leans forward and smiles. “Yes! Exactly! I think about that all the time. I don’t want to be stuffed in some court room or law office, searching through documents all day. I want to be out here, wild like horses and the bears, free and alive, ya know? Is that why you loved the military?”

“It was part of it,” I admit, fingers tightening around the gear shift.

“There’s this brutal kind of clarity out there.

When everything’s stripped away and all that’s left is you, the dirt, and a task.

I was out on this one mission… we had to extract a hostage from a mountain compound,” I say quietly.

“No backup, just your dad and I. Got the guy out, but that was the day your dad saved me. I leaned on him as I hobbled three miles through freezing terrain that night. I’d have froze without his help. That kind of stuff changes a person.”

I glance over, and the way she listens makes me forget how dry my throat feels. No one ever listens to me like this.

“When I joined, I didn’t know who I was. And out there, in the middle of nowhere with nothing but heat and silence, I started figuring I didn’t want a life I had to survive. I wanted one that wakes me up every morning.”

“I love that.” She smiles sweetly. “That’s exactly why I want to live up here, find a little cabin, travel around the mountain, take pictures, fall in love, have a family, take more pictures… it sounds peaceful.”

I swallow hard and glance toward her as we climb higher, past fences twisted with wildflowers and old cattle gates. “A family, huh? Already thinkin’ about that?”

“Yeah. I mean,” she grins, “I know it’s a few years away but …

I think about it a lot. Not the perfect Christmas-card kind of a family, but the messy breakfasts, sleepy drives to school, late night science fair project kind of stuff.

I want to take all that on with someone I love, ya know?

” she says, her voice dipping into something tender, uncertain.

“What about you? Were you ever married or have any kids?”

I keep my eyes on the road, but I feel her words settle in my chest. “No. Never.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.” I grip the wheel tighter as I talk, afraid I’ll say the wrong thing. “I guess I thought I wasn’t that kind of guy. I’m not great with emotional stuff and my own father wasn’t really around. I just… let life keep happening and now, I reckon it’s too late.”

She smiles softly. The kind that slips past a man’s defenses. “ Seriously? You’re not that old. You could totally have a family. I see guys all the time that do all this family stuff later in life.”

I chuckle low and hollow. “Yeah, well, maybe those guys aren’t as tired. I can’t imagine chasing after little kids anymore.”

She laughs. “You say that now, but I bet if you had one crawling into your lap, babbling about dinosaurs, you’d forget you were tired.”

I glance at her, and for the first time all day, I let myself smile without overthinking it.

“Maybe,” I say. “Or maybe, I’d just become one of those grumpy dads who sits on the porch making threats with a garden hose.”

Her eyes light up, her voice teasing as she says, “Oh, no. I’m getting strong ‘ reluctant softie’ vibes. I bet you’d say stuff like ‘don’t touch that’ and then secretly build a pillow fort when no one’s looking.”

I chuckle under my breath. “You’d be wrong.”

“I don’t think so.” She sighs and rests her head against the window, watching the horizon blur into gold and blue.

“I just want love to be quiet, ya know? Not easy, but soft. Not mind games and drama, just… the kind where someone waits for you before they start the movie. The kind where I feel desired.”

There’s a lump in my throat I didn’t invite. So, I just drive, wind humming through the open windows as I pull into the grassy patch that leads to the overlook I’ve been searching for. “There it is. The prettiest spot on Rugged Mountain.”

“It’s gorgeous,” she says, staring out at the view.

I glance toward her, freckles on her cheeks, hair falling onto her shoulders, a soft smile on her face as those thick thighs sit within reach. “It really is.”

I kill the engine of the truck, and she turns to me slowly, that smile fading into something quieter, more uncertain. The air shifts and it’s thicker now, charged with something new. Her eyes flick to my mouth, just for a second, and I feel it like a spark down my spine.

Permission.

I lean in, slow enough to give her time to pull away, fast enough to ignore how wrong this is. Her breath catches, her lips parting slightly, and then she meets me halfway.

My hand finds her throat, and the kiss deepens, like we’ve both been holding back something we don’t know how to name.

Her pulse flutters beneath my fingertips, wild and uneven, like it’s trying to outrun the moment.

My thumb brushes her jaw, and her thighs squeeze together as an aching moan echoes from her mouth into mine.

It’s poison. Poison I gladly drink as I slide my hand between her soft thighs and onto her soaking panties.

A truck drives by the lookout, and though I know the driver can’t see us, I imagine the horrid things he’d think if he could. Me, some old asshole, touching the tight, little pussy of some nineteen-year-old girl. He’d call me a pervert, a fucking monster for betraying my friend.

Heat passes between us as my fingers scrub her clit through her soaking panties. I’m not technically touching her if there’s fabric between us, right?

She moans all the same, folding into my arms with fevered whines that send shocks of desperation into my hard cock. Her small hand rolls over my bulge and I growl, biting back every urge I have to toss her into the truck bed and ruin her for everyone else.

She pushes the truck seat back and pulls me in, tugging her leggings down, spreading her thighs wide.

“Fuck, little girl. What the hell are you doing to me?”

I press two fingers against the sopping fabric at her entrance and thrust as far as the material stretches.

I should stop. I know this is wrong in every fucking way, but I can’t. I can’t stop. I can’t fucking stop!

I will the fabric of her panties to slip to the side for a brief second, but they don’t. They fucking don’t.

She sighs as I continue to work over the top of them. “Right there. Please… oh my God, I need it.”

“Oh baby, you know I can’t. We have to stop.”

“No,” she begs. “Please. Please…” Her hips grind against my hand, and though I’d give anything to sink my teeth into her perfectly smooth skin and mark her up so everyone knows she’s mine, I can’t. Not now, not ever. This has to stop.

Fucking hell, why can’t I resist? The scent of her excitement…

it’s too fucking much. Growling low, I pull her to the side, tuck her legs behind my head, and press my face against her cotton covered pussy.

My nose presses in first, then my jaw. I breathe her in, grip her hips, and let the weight of her touch press up against my face as I scrub my tongue against the sopping fabric.

I intend to stay here, shielded by the sheath of cloth, protected from the reality of what we’re doing by cotton, but the effort is hopeless. I tear her panties to the side and sink my face deep in against her soft core, lapping at her sweet juices as she bucks up beneath me.

“Yes! Oh my God, yes!” She pants and writhes, desperation taking over as she moves. “Right there.”

I slide one finger, then two inside of her, tempting the way her sweet body grips me. She’s so fucking tight. So tight and so ready.

Her hips press against my hand, and I continue eating my meal, lapping at her clit, suckling, scraping my teeth, growling against her with pressure. “Come on, baby girl. I need you to come for me.”

She sighs sporadically, grinding her hips up against my face as I maneuver in the tight cabin of the truck. Jesus, I hope she stains the air with her scent. I want it lingering forever. I want to smell her every time I climb up in this thing.

I drive in deeper, scooping a come-hither motion into her tight little slit, desperate to watch her come, when my phone starts to ring on the dash.

It’s loud and staring us right in the face. I couldn’t ignore it if I wanted to.

Kera glances toward me, panting. “She’ll call back.”

I know she’ll call back. That’s the problem. Linda is relentless, overbearing, and insanely protective of her daughter… as she should be.

“We have to answer.” I lean up from her sweet, pink pussy with a groan of impatience in my throat as guilt settles heavily on my chest. I don’t want to stop.

I want to sit here all night and fuck this girl until she’s bruised and marked.

I want to fill her up, empty myself inside of her, make her mine.

But if I listen to that animal, who knows what more damage I’ll do. Kera only has her mother, and I can’t fuck that up for them.

Trouble is, I might have crossed that line already.