Page 14 of Protecting Player #73 (Portland, Settlers #1 | Gridiron Warriors)
T.K
A fter spending most of the night watching Brea sleep, I got up earlier than usual because I couldn’t get the question she asked in the shower out of my head.
Could I stalk her? It makes me wonder about what she’s looking for in a sexual relationship.
Especially with us not consummating anything yet.
Would she like it if I took her while she was sleeping?
How about blindfolded and tied to the bed?
Does she want to imagine me taking her against her will?
What about if I kidnap her and take her away?
All things we’ll have a conversation about, but the possibilities are endless and have me more excited than the first time I entered a pussy.
Holding Brea without the expectation of sex was an experience I’d never understood or cared about before. Now, though, now…I could do it every night for the rest of my life. She stayed wrapped up in my arms, snoring peacefully on my chest, with her trust on display in how soundly she slept.
Working out in the condo building's gym has taken the edge off my sexual tension since Brea said yes to moving in with me yesterday. Now, I’m debating ways to follow her around town.
Her phone calendar shows that she has errands to run this morning, as well as a planned lunch date with her best girlfriend, Adeline Strand.
They’ve known each other for years, and even though Brea is close with Thor, Adeline is like her platonic soulmate–from what I’ve read in her old diaries, anyway.
The two are close, and I won’t do anything to jeopardize that.
After a quick shower in the gym, I get dressed, then check my phone to see if Brea’s awake and moving yet.
The cameras in my condo show her in the kitchen mixing the protein shake I left for her as she reads my note.
The cute smile on her face makes my dick twitch and need ravages my blood.
Watching her move around her new home fills me with pride.
One day, I’ll buy her the house of her dreams. For now, we’ll make this work.
Once she enters the bedroom, I stop watching. Even with her excited expression towards my obsession and desire to surveil her, I’m still sane enough to know she needs privacy. Though she has no idea that I have cameras in every room of the house.
Gathering my stuff, I enter the lobby, leave my bag with the doorman after a friendly greeting, and head across the street to the coffee shop, which I’ve frequented every morning since its opening.
Waiting for Brea is torture in its purest form.
I’m anxious to lay eyes on her again, but the anticipation is all worth it.
After ordering, I sit outside, the overcast day typical for the beginning of fall in Portland, waiting until she emerges from my building.
With the color of the sky, I half expect it to start drizzling, but when Brea finally walks through the glass doors across the street, I swear the rain clouds part and allow the sun to shine properly.
Rays of light cast down on her like a beacon.
She checks her phone. I imagine she’s looking for a text from me but will find none before she begins walking in the direction of the downtown core. We’re minutes from some of the most popular shopping centers in the city.
Her calendar indicates that she has to stop at the post office to pick up some filming equipment.
She’s also been looking at trading in her cell phone for a newer model; little does she know, I’ve already ordered one for her.
And if I had to guess, she won’t resist going into this new dress shop near the café where she’s having lunch with her friend.
Brea might not realize it, but to me, she’s predictable. Knowing her actions before she does gives me an incomparable high.
She takes a leisurely stroll, and I discover she enjoys window shopping. When she stops to admire a tennis bracelet in the window of a jewelry store, I take note of which one and store it away for later.
As she continues her walk, kittens in the window of a pet store catch her attention, and I half expect her to go in and come out with one, but she simply draws little circles on the glass, allowing the felines to chase her movements before carrying on.
With the post office in sight, she’s no longer distracted and enters, returning a few minutes later with a bag in her hand containing a small box. She steps to the side, so she doesn’t block the sidewalk, and I watch as she reads something on her phone that dampens her happiness.
Anger consumes me at whoever has ruined her day. My bet is on Thor. He wasn’t pleased when she left last night, and now that he’s had time to get used to it, he’s probably decided to become a keyboard warrior and harass her.
Grabbing my phone, I send her my own message. I had planned to remain silent today so I could bask in watching her go through her day, but not when she’s upset.
Me: Morning pup, have you headed out yet?
It takes me only seconds to get a response.
Pup: Yes. Running errands now before meeting Adeline. Just saw the cutest kittens.
Me: Yours is cuter.
Watching closely for her response, I’m not disappointed when she flames red. If I were closer, I bet I’d see her pupils dilate with lust, too.
Pup: Tate! You can’t say things like that.
Me: Why? Someone reading your messages?
Pup: No…
Me: Then it’s perfectly acceptable for me to tell you your pussy is the cutest, hottest, most delicious little kitten this side of the continent.
Pup: OML!
Me: You like it
Pup: I have to go now…
Me: Bet you're wet. Imagining my tongue sliding slowly through your lips, flicking my tongue across that tiny pearled clit before sucking until you’re screaming my name.
Keeping my eye on her, I analyze how her thighs rub together, the way she places a hand on her lower stomach. Notice the fluttering pulse in her throat, even from a distance.
Me: You’re turned on.
There’s no doubt about it.
Pup: There is something wrong with you.
Me: Yeah, I’m fevered, dying with anticipation of what it’s going to feel like when I’m balls deep inside that virgin pussy. Blood soaking my cock as I glide slowly in and out of your tight sheath until we’re both blinded by ecstasy.
I imagine the whimper trapped in her throat right now, and my cock is eager to feel that vibration with her mouth wrapped around it. I’m torturing myself now.
She struggles to respond, so I let her off the hook.
Me: Enjoy your lunch. Call me after.
Pup: I will!
Her audible sigh of relief is nearly loud enough for me to hear as she blows out a breath and tilts her head back up to the sunshine. A fiercely passionate woman lies locked inside her body, and unraveling her will be a joy.
As she approaches the café, Adeline has already arrived, waving from a small patio table crowded with succulents and scratched menus. Brea lights up when she sees her. After they hug, Brea sits, legs crossed elegantly at the ankle, lavender dress folding neatly beneath her.
Adeline speaks with a smile on her lips and glee in her eyes as Brea ties her hair back, laughing at whatever was said. The sound doesn’t carry to where I stand across the street under a bookstore awning.
While the girls talk, laugh, and eat, I observe. I study Brea’s every movement. Breathe her in from the short distance and memorize the sight of her happiness, the way she animatedly speaks with her gesturing hands.
She has no idea I’m here. No clue that I’m doing exactly as she asked, because she lives in a safe bubble with the knowledge that I’ll always protect her. She doesn’t see my obsession as a threat, but I would have no problem locking her away from the world just to claim all her attention.
I’ve never been good with sharing, just ask my brothers.
T.C. and T.J. have put up with my shit our entire lives.
Everything has been a competition for me.
They became cops, pleased to help the citizens of Portland, while I reached for the stars.
To do and be better than anyone else. Those selfish dreams have gotten me to where I am today–a playboy football star without a care in the world about women.
Maybe not the image I wanted.
But it brought me to Brea, so can I really complain?