Page 47 of Riot’s Thorn (Sons of Erebus: Reno, NV #4)

CHAPTER THIRTY

RIOT

I ’m glad to see Roland doesn’t give Parker a ride home. It’s risky to leave her on the street alone, but I heard her call for a car service, and there are enough people around that she’ll be okay to wait. The biggest threat right now is the one I follow home.

Clearly, his daddy is supplementing his income because he lives in a brand-new house in one of those developments where your neighbors are up your ass. It’s a modern single-story with lots of windows, dark trim, and off-white stucco.

He parks in the garage while I stay further down the street.

The house is so new, the landscaping hasn’t been done, and I can tell there are some paint touch-ups and other miscellaneous work that still need to be finished, including an exposed panel where his doorbell camera will be installed. That works well for me.

Pulling my balaclava over my face, I walk right into the backyard, since the fence around the house has been erected but the gate hasn’t. It’s nothing but dirt now, but there’s a big ass hole where a pool’s being put in. Yeah, there’s no way his salary as a personal assistant is paying for this.

The back door is the same type we have at the clubhouse—all glass that opens like an accordion to make you feel like the backyard is an extension of your living area.

This works in my favor because I know exactly how to get in.

Pulling my lock-picking kit out, I jimmy the lock until I hear the telltale snick .

He really should look into reinforcing it.

The house is dark, save for one open door down the hall, his bedroom. I creep through the house, chancing a look into the room. It’s empty, which means he must be in the attached bathroom.

I lean against the wall behind the closed door and wait, taking stock of the items on the nightstands and dressers. Roland isn’t a knickknack kind of guy, but his nightstand has an accent lamp with what looks like a marble base. Hopefully, it’s not fake.

The door opens, and Roland steps out, using a hand towel to pat his damp face.

I jump him from behind, pushing the back of his head down and using my forward momentum to slam it into one of the posts on his headboard.

It dazes him enough for me to get him on his stomach and strap a zip tie to each of his ankles, another one running between the two to keep them together.

He gathers his wits enough to push onto his knees and take a swing.

His fist manages to land on the lower side of my back, and I wince but don’t let it slow me down.

I stand, straddling him and kicking him between the shoulders, forcing him to fall forward.

Pulling his left hand behind him, I loop a zip tie between the ones keeping his ankles together and secure his wrist.

With only one hand free, I lift him to his knees, careful to keep his free hand in sight. I’m a few inches taller than the man, but I don’t outweigh him by much, so I’m panting by the time I have him where I want him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I catch my breath while holding him in place.

“What do you want from me?” Roland asks, and spittle tinged red from the bloody wound on his head flies from his mouth.

“I want you to keep your hands to yourself.”

“What?”

“Parker has made it clear she doesn’t want to be with you, and you just keep putting the moves on her. It’s rude, so I’m here to remind you of your manners.”

“Wait, you’re here about Parker?” He chuckles. “You shouldn’t have said anything because now I know who you are.”

“If you know who I am, then you know who I belong to. So, unless you want to start something you can’t finish, I suggest you keep your trap shut.”

“You can’t hurt me. Do you know who my father is?”

“I do. I also know there have been insider trading allegations against him that, so far, haven’t been proven.

But my computer guy was able to do some digging and copy some files that might help get a conviction.

Are you willing to risk that?” Those are all lies, and I have no idea if there have been any such allegations.

It was just a guess, but judging by his pinched expression, I was spot on.

“So, what? You want me to quit? Done. She’s worthless to me now that she’s sold off her dad’s companies anyway.”

She did? Why? What’s her plan? Something brilliant, I’m certain. But he didn’t have to say it that way, so I stand and knee him in the face, breaking his nose. “Parker has never been and will never be worthless. Don’t talk shit about her.”

“Fine. You can let me go now. I said I’d quit.”

“I’m not letting you go. You haven’t been punished for touching her yet.”

“My nose and head beg to differ.”

“If you think that’s a punishment, you’re gonna really fuckin’ hate this next part.

” I grab his free hand and hold it on his nightstand.

Thankfully, the lamp is heavy marble and not some cheap imitation.

He struggles, but, bound the way he is, he can’t get away.

“I should cut your fingers off, but I’ll settle for breaking them. ”

I lift the lamp up and slam it down on his hand.

The scream he lets out is otherworldly. Let’s hope the cost of these homes includes some soundproofing.

Lifting the lamp back up, I slam it down on his fingers this time.

Over and over, I strike his hand until I’m certain I’ve crushed most of the bones.

It’ll be a bitch to realign, if not impossible.

“Okay, okay. Jesus, fuck. Stop,” Roland whimpers, sagging forward and losing some of his fancy dinner.

I release his hand, and he collapses onto the floor. “Don’t tell anyone what happened, and don’t go near Parker again. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes. Please, just cut me free,” he cries.

“Nah. I think I’ll let you figure out how to get free on your own. It’ll give you more time to come up with a story about how that happened to your hand.” I step over him and walk back out to the car. “Fuckin’ hate driving a cage.”

I don’t have time to go back to the clubhouse and switch vehicles, so I hop on the freeway and make the nearly hour-long drive to Parker’s mountain home. After a ten-minute hike through the dark forest, I set myself up next to, what I now call ‘my tree’, since I’m here more often than not.

The adrenaline from the night’s event drains once I get my eyes on my woman.

She’s kicked back on the sofa, a glass of wine in her hand, talking to one of her security guys.

If I hadn’t looked into them and discovered they’re all in a polyamorous relationship and completely devoted to each other, I’d be breaking more bones tonight, especially when Parker sets the wine down and gives the man a hug before heading to her bedroom.

Hold on, Little Thorn. Soon, it’ll be me comforting you after a long day . I just have to wait a little while longer.

She cheats on her nighttime routine. At this point, I have each product and the order she slathers it on her face memorized.

But sometimes, like tonight, she skips all the middle goopy stuff and goes right from washing her face to the white cream.

I hope she doesn’t make that a habit because soon, we’ll be doing our routines side by side, and if she doesn’t finish at the same time each night, how will I know how to time my own?

Thankfully, she allows the full cycle of her electric toothbrush to run before spitting.

I don’t think I could handle it if she rushed that.

Once that’s done, I pop the button of my jeans and get ready for my nightly show.

She strips her clothes off, leaving her in a nude bra and panty set.

The bra is sheer lace, giving me a view of her delicious nipples.

Piling her hair on her head, she turns the shower on and removes the last of her clothing. I pull out my hard cock and lazily stroke up and down. Like when she was brushing her teeth, she doesn’t rush this portion of the night either. She lathers up a loofa and runs it all over her body.

Suds cling to the tips of her nipples and sensually slide down her body. I send thanks to a god I don’t believe in when she reaches for the detachable shower head and sets one foot on the built-in bench, spreading her cunt wide for me to see.

Her hair is growing back, reminding me of the day I shaved her. Seems like so long ago. The first thing I want to do in our new shower is recreate that moment. Then I’ll shave her bare every day after that.

Before I chafe, I spit on my cock and stroke faster, wanting to come when she does.

With one hand massaging her breast and the other holding the shower head in place, she gets herself off.

Her hips move back and forth on instinct, and she throws her head back when she finds just the right spot.

Fuck me, she’s the sexiest person alive.

No one has ever done it for me the way she does, and I guaran-fuckin-tee no one else ever will.

Her lips part, and I can practically hear the soft moan she lets out with her hips still thrusting with small movements.

She leans back against the wall and pinches her nipple, giving it a sharp tug that stretches it beautifully.

Goddamn, I wish it were my teeth doing that.

Then she’s coming hard. I come right along with her, my balls drawing up tight, every muscle in my body tightening as I bend over and shoot my load in the same spot I do every night.

It’s not the same as being with her, but it’s my way of keeping the intimacy alive between us. That, and my nightly visits.

After flipping off the shower, she pulls on a fluffy robe and saturates her skin in a lotion I know smells like sweet almonds.

Scents are tricky for me. If they’re too intense, it’s annoying, but Parker’s lotion is mild and natural enough not to bother me.

Once she’s lubed up, she drops the towel and slips into bed.

It takes her a while to relax enough to drift off tonight.

A lot happened today, and I’m sure her mind is reeling.

But eventually, exhaustion wins out, and I can see her chest moving in a slow and steady pattern.

Only then do I sneak through the security camera’s blind spot and climb up to the second-floor roof.

They made it easy for me, with all the modern angled trim that’s no worse than a rock-climbing wall.

It was pure coincidence I found the roof door installed between the rafter bays when the house was constructed.

Whoever built the house had plans to make a rooftop hang-out or garden or fuck knows what, but it never happened, so now there’s just this walk-out access that’s made it easy for me to get in.

I’m honestly surprised her team hasn’t locked it up for good. It makes me think she only told them about me getting in the first time. After that, it became our little secret.

Silently, I lower the attic stairs, and boom, I’m in the house.

The security guys only monitor the front and back doors from the inside and the perimeter of the house on the outside, so slipping down the stairs to Parker’s room is so fucking easy, it feels illegal.

But no crimes have been committed here, since she belongs to me.

Tonight, the present I brought her requires her participation. In my pocket are two necklaces, one for her and one for me. I pull them out and set them on the bed. On each silver chain is a mini glass vial closed with a cork stopper.

In the bathroom, I find a pair of small scissors Parker uses when she wears those fake eyelashes. I wish she wouldn’t do it, but I want her to always feel confident, and if she needs spider legs clinging to her eyes in order to do that, then I support her.

Thankfully, Parker sleeps nude. It makes it easier for me to clip a good section of regrowth from her pelvic area. The hairs are so cute, pure blonde and just starting to curl. It’s hard to see what I’m doing, but I’m pretty certain I get some inside the little bottle before I cork it.

Having pubic hair has been something I’ve battled with over the years.

Sometimes, it feels annoying, like it’s not a part of me and shouldn’t be there.

When that happens, I keep myself clean-shaven.

But other times, a simple trim is fine. Ever since I came up with this plan, I’ve been forcing myself to grow the hair out a bit.

I unzip my fly, take a sample of my own hair, and drop them in Parker’s jar.

Once both are corked, I leave hers on her dresser and place mine around my neck.

There’s only one kind of chain I can stand touching my skin all day, every day, and that’s a ball clasp style.

The small balls feel good when I roll them between my fingers, so I’m able to tolerate the weight of them.

But Parker’s is a dainty white gold chain.

I’m exhausted, and all I want is to climb into bed with her, but it’s not time.

So I kiss her forehead and head out the way I came.

Without Roland to pick her up tomorrow, she’ll be scrambling to figure out her transportation issue for a while, which means I can sleep in a little. God knows I need it.

It’s exhausting being a stalker.