Page 8 of Marked by my Stalker (Inked and Possessive. Rugged Mountain Ink #1)
Jack
She walks around the edge of the tree line, camera in hand, stalking the side of the mountain for the perfect shot. Slowly, she bends to frame the ridge, angling low as to let the viewfinder swallow the peaks and clouds while not forgetting the soft blur of wildflowers on the slope.
She snaps a few photos, adjusting the settings like she knows what she’s doing. The shutter clicks softly.
“You’re in your element,” I say, voice low and hungry.
The call from her mother was startling. The fact that she’s here, even more so.
I don’t know how to make this right, how to explain what I feel or if I even do.
Either way, my body won’t stop aching for that sweet little girl with the camera in her hand.
The one that’s just turned back in the afternoon light with a smile.
The one that makes me want to be better than I ever fucking have.
Apparently, this is what happy feels like. It’s not loud, and it doesn’t slap you in the face. It’s slow and creeping, seeping into the cracks without notice.
I linger in it for a breath. In the quiet joy, in the unexpected shift… it’s nice. It’s so damn nice.
Kera snaps another photo of the valley then turns back, camera strap slung over her shoulder, her gaze on me.
For the first time in a while, I’m not sure what the rules are anymore. On one hand, we’ve already crossed a line, what are a few more? On the other, every fucking line I cross is another I’ve got to carry for the rest of my life. Another I have to explain to her mother.
Whatever the case, the way she looks at me has my pulse thumping loudly in my ears, and I’ve suddenly forgotten what I’m supposed to want in favor of feeling what’s right in front of me.
I don’t look away. I can’t.
“You get all the photos you wanted?”
“No,” she smiles, “I think you’ll have to bring me back again.”
My chest tightens because as good as that sounds, I don’t know what the future holds for us.
“Jack,” her gaze meets mine through long dark lashes, “I don’t want this to end.”
I pull her close to my chest, holding her fragile little frame against my own. She fits there too easily, too damn perfectly.
“I don’t know what this is,” I mutter, my voice low, “but it’s messing me up.”
Her fingers curl into my shirt, and I feel the tremble in her breath against my neck.
“I’m not good at soft,” I say. “Never have been. I break things. I bury things. I don’t know how to keep something like you happy and fulfilled.” I pause, jaw clenched so tight it aches. “Hell, I’m not even supposed to want you and I’ve fucked that up terribly.”
She doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch. She just keeps her eyes on mine like she already knows.
“I was hired to be here,” I growl. “Your dad’s friend. His shadow. I’m supposed to keep you safe, not—” I stop myself before the truth slips out.
She lifts her chin, eyes steady but soft. “Jack,” she says, almost a whisper, “if this is the only night we get… I don’t want to leave with regrets.”
I feel the words settle deep in my chest. She’s not asking for romance. Not asking for promises. She needs something real. Something we can both remember despite the fallout that’ll happen with her mother, with life, with the reality that two people our age don’t belong together.
“I want it to be you,” she says, eyes glancing down, then back up. “I trust you.”
God help me!
I look away, jaw tight, heart thudding. I was never meant to be part of her story, not like this.
“I don’t deserve that,” I say. “You should save it for someone special. It’s something you’ll remember forever.”
She nods, and a soft breeze carries the scent of pine between us. “You are special, and I want to remember this moment right here, forever.”
I swallow hard, eyes fixed on the horizon like it might offer me a way out. “You don’t know what you’re giving,” I say, voice rough, “and I’m not the kind of man who should take it. I’m not gentle, sweetheart. I wouldn’t even know where to start with an angel like you.”
She steps closer, her hand finding mine, small fingers curling around my knuckles like she’s anchoring me to the moment.
“I know who you are, Jack, and I want you.” Her words hit like a slow burn, crawling under my skin, lighting up every part of me I’ve tried to keep buried.
“I’m too old for you,” I mutter. “You deserve someone your age. Someone who can keep up with you.”
She doesn’t argue. Instead, she rises onto her toes and presses her lips to mine. Soft, sure, and heartbreakingly gentle… and that’s what shatters me. Not the kiss itself, but the way she gives it, like she’s not asking for anything but this one truth between us.
I turn to stone, my body doing as it’s been trained to do when difficult emotions arise. Then all at once, my hand finds her waist, I feel her breath catch, and I’m about to ruin this pretty little girl for good.
She kisses me harder, deeper, a tiny moan in her throat as her hand dances over my hard cock.
I’m not sure what part of the moment I lose it in, but I’m gone. Every bit of restraint turns to dust, like it was a barrier built on lies. I kiss her lips and scrape my teeth down over her neck, then onto her shoulder, where I bite hard with a growl.
She jumps as my teeth sink in, a soft moan in her throat as I release the pressure, leaving dark red marks behind.
“You like my marks on your skin, little girl?”
“More,” she pants. “I want more.”
I bite her again, this time on the side of her neck, sucking with pressure as I slide down her neck and up again. “I should take you down the mountain. We can get a room at the inn.”
“Or,” there’s desperation in her tone, “you could take me right here in the open air overlooking the valley. I know I’d never forget that. This is our spot now.”
My fingers slide down the curve of her neck, tracing the line where skin meets the edge of her collarbone, then back up again, slow and deliberate. She shivers beneath my touch, and I feel it like a spark jumping skin to skin. “You sure?”
She nods, and I see the wild clarity in her hazel eyes.
I kiss her again, slower this time, letting the moment stretch and settle.
My hands find her waist, then her hips, as the wind moves through the trees like it’s listening.
I haven’t seen a car drive by in a while, but this road is still traveled quite frequently.
Another reason I should stop, but at this point, I’ll bury whoever tries pulling over.
Her small hand lands against my cock as I lift her up onto the bench seat of my truck. Thick thighs spread and her legs dangle down, reminding me how small and delicate she is. For some reason, the thought of breaking in her tiny little body sends an ache straight through me.
Breeze behind me, I lift off her pumpkin sweater and lean her back onto the seat with a groan.
Heavy tits spill out, nipples hard and dark, skin taut and supple.
I lean in, suckling up with pressure as she moans and squirms beneath me.
Mark after mark left red against her skin with worship and privilege.
I should probably try to hide the evidence of my claim but the urge to leave my print is too strong.
“I need to feel you, Jack.” Her soaking pussy scrubs up against my hips as she begs, and though I know there’s a version of me that will second guess this moment, there’s another version that needs it more. Needs her more. Needs this memory to feed lifetimes to come.
“Put your pretty little hand on your pussy, sweetheart. Touch it for me.” Birds sing as the sun sets lower behind the mountains.
She does as I’ve asked, sliding her finger between her slick folds as I unbuckle my jeans then shove them to the ground, my boots still in place. It’s not ideal, but as my hips start to buck, I know there’s no other way.
I grip her tight and pull her to the edge of the seat, watching her long blonde hair cascade off the edge as I sink into her tight, tight little pussy.
Fuck!
Her hand still rests between us, her finger circling her clit as I attempt to work myself in deeper.
“Tell me your mine and spread your thighs a little wider.” I press them as wide as they go and push into her deeper, but there’s still resistance. Resistance that wakes every archaic bone in my body. Resistance that dares me to get closer.