Page 7

Olivia

Bad by Royal Deluxe

T he rain is really starting to come down now. The fucking humidity better not mess up my hair. I run my hands anxiously over my soft hot pink curls to smooth them down. I spent a long time, probably too long, getting ready for tonight. I made sure to shower very thoroughly and shave from top to bottom. I am smooth and slick and ready for him should this date go well tonight. It’s been far too long since I’ve had a real nice cock spoiling my pussy. I thought I’d get laid the other night after the club but my stalker showed up and put a damper on that plan. He seems to be ruining a lot of my nights lately. Maybe that’s his plan—slowly drive me insane by spoiling all my fun.

I’m not letting him ruin tonight though. Not a fucking chance.

It took hours to do my hair and makeup. Then I tried on an unreasonable number of outfits. I decided on the tightest little black dress I could find. Thankfully, none of my clothes have had the same stains as last week. It must have been something weird with my washing machine that my landlord was able to fix when he came and checked it out.

I’m usually never this nervous for dates. Well, I also don’t usually go out on a lot of nice dates. I usually meet my partners at the tattoo shop, or one of the surrounding bars, then enjoy a few drinks and a quick fuck before never seeing them again. I mean, that is originally how I met Luke too, but there’s just something about this guy. He’s smooth, smart, and slightly uptight. I want to ruffle his feathers and ride his cock. And, for the first time in a long time, I found myself thinking about him after we hooked up. I’m terrified that I might actually really like him.

But in the back of my mind I can’t stop thinking about my masked savior—stalker, wherever the hell he is. I can’t quite figure out what to make of what happened the other night. I should have been terrified of him, he’s my literal stalker, and I’m fairly certain he knows where Celeste is. I can’t shake the feeling that this is all somehow connected. In some sort of delusional state of hopefulness, I texted Celeste earlier telling her I was going on a date with the man I met on Halloween. She’d seemed jealous when I told her about him before she ghosted me, or disappeared, or whatever the fuck is going on. I was hopeful that if this was just some big misunderstanding and she’d be jealous enough when she learned I was seeing him again that she’d finally stop ignoring me. It didn’t work. She didn’t respond.

I’ve replayed the other night in my head over and over again for the past few days, trying to figure out what it all means. I let that monster guide me as I slashed someone wide open. I literally stabbed someone and left them a bleeding mess outside a bar bathroom while my panties were soaked through thinking about my stalker. What is wrong with me? This is all so fucked up. That’s why I need tonight to go well. I need a nice night with a nice guy to take my mind off everything.

The wind whips around my exposed legs and sends a shiver through my entire body. I probably should have worn a jacket. Right as I’m debating turning around to get one, a bright red sports car comes flying down the street, stopping in front of my house.

The driver’s side door swings open and the most attractive man I have ever seen steps out. He’s tall and muscular but not in a bulky way. He’s lean but definitely looks strong enough to throw me around in the way I like. He’s dressed in black slacks and a black button down. The sleeves of the button down are rolled up, exposing his corded forearms and the expensive looking watch glimmering on his wrist. It draws the attention to his large hands. Those fucking hands. It’s probably weird as hell to be attracted to a man’s hands but I’m desperate to see how his hands feel wrapped around my throat.

A vision of being naked and pinned against the wall with his large hands wrapped around my throat flashes across my mind and I feel my pussy dampen beneath my panties. What I wouldn’t give to be able to be outside myself, watching him wrap his hands around my throat while his cock pounds into me at a punishing pace. My tight little pussy stretched around his thick length. Fuck , that’d be hot.

As Luke approaches me on my porch with an umbrella shielding him from the rain, his heated gaze devours me, leaving me squirming and clenching my thighs. He has on mirrored sunglasses so I can’t actually see his eyes but I can sense him slowly taking in all of me. The bandeau dress I’m wearing is tight and short, not completely whorish, but it shows enough that I figured it would grab his attention. I can’t help but squirm under his assessment. He’s hot, successful, and smart. He’s a real fucking catch.

“You look almost too good to take out. I’m half tempted to take you inside and skip dinner.” His voice is deeply masculine and flows like smooth smoke rolling across the warmed ground.

“I believe you promised me a nice dinner first.” I do my best to sound sultry, trying to hide just how deeply unnerved I am.

He comes to a stop at the bottom of my steps, the rain rolling in thick rivulets down the black umbrella he carries. It hides the top half of his face from me at this angle, but I can see his smirk. His tongue slides across his canines, reminding me of a predator assessing its prey.

This man is delicious. And I can’t fucking get enough of him. I’m usually a dine and dash type of girl when it comes to guys. I love a good dick but usually there’s an asshole attached to it that I eagerly run away from, but something about this man seems nice and responsible. The type of guy that I should want to date.

Holding out a hand to me, he beckons me to him. “We better get going then.”

Graciously, I allow him to guide me down the steps and walkway as he holds the umbrella above me. Who is this guy? I didn’t think actual gentlemen still existed in this world. Opening the passenger door to his flashy red Audi, he takes my hand to guide me in before rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Nice car,” I tell him as the loud engine purrs to life. I don’t know anything about cars other than how to use mine to get from point A to point B, but even I can tell that this car seems expensive. The smell of fine leather hangs in the air, a reminder that this man is not your average hook up type.

“I grew up dirt poor. Like barely enough money to survive—poor. I always promised myself that when I grew up I’d make enough money to buy myself a stupid expensive car. I know it sounds silly,” he maneuvers the car effortlessly out of my neighborhood and towards downtown, “but when I bought this car, it felt like a promise I had to keep. Like I could look back and let that poor, hungry little kid know that he didn’t need to worry anymore.”

His words hit me like a freight train. Not only am I shocked that he’d be so open on a first date, but that he can talk about shitty things with such openness; not many people are that self assured. I realize I’m just sitting and staring at him as he awkwardly flicks his face back and forth between me and the road. His sunglasses still cover his eyes but I can sense the discomfort leaking out of him and tainting the vibe.

“Shit. Sorry. Maybe that was an overshare for a first date.” A slight blush creeps up under the collar of his pristine black shirt.

“No! Shit,” I stumble over my words, trying to make up for my momentary brain glitch. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to people being so open and vulnerable.” I reach out for his free hand which is resting on the center console and lace my fingers with his, offering a reassuring squeeze. “It’s nice. I grew up with just my dad. And, he’s great, don’t get me wrong, but things weren’t always easy. I know what it’s like to just want to grow up and be able to do better.”

Bringing our intertwined hands to his lips, Luke presses a sweet kiss to my fingers. “Two broken souls looking for a brighter tomorrow, huh?”

I can’t help the smile that pulls at the corner of my lips. “Yeah, something like that I guess.”

Something about his words causes a small discomfort to curl around my core, but I’m not quite sure what it is. On the surface, his words are sweet. I’m probably just so used to dating assholes.

We zip through the rest of the drive making comfortable small talk. We talk about his job as a lawyer, about how he lives outside of town, and that he likes hunting in his free time. The last part about hunting makes me slightly uncomfortable. I’m not really a hanging dead animal heads on the walls as artwork, kind of girl. It’s the eyes I think. The black, unseeing, unblinking pits of empty darkness, freak me the fuck out. Hopefully he doesn’t have a bunch in his house.

He parks close to the restaurant and we walk side by side to the building. He doesn’t slink his fingers into mine or throw a possessive arm around me, he just walks next to me—keeping a respectable distance. It’s nice.

He brought me to a charming little Italian restaurant downtown. It seems nice but not overly pretentious and it smells fucking amazing. Pulling on the large bronzed door handle, he ushers me in with his hand on the small of my back. The touch is small but enough to send tingles skittering across my flesh.

The hostess leads us to a cute little round table in a darkened back corner. There’s a candle and a small vase with a rose on top of the crisp white table cloth. We get settled in our seats and wait for our server while making small talk.

“So, what is it you do for a living then?” my date asks as we sip iced water and peruse the menu.

“I work at a tattoo shop. I’m the piercing girl.”

His eyes snap to mine immediately. A hint of amusement dances in them. I can’t read him exactly. I know men like this, like him, have probably never stepped foot in a place like where I work, but he doesn’t seem judgmental. If anything, he looks excited.

“Really? You put holes in people for a living?” he says through a smirk.

I can’t help but laugh at that. He’s cute. A witty response is right on the tip of my tongue but at that exact moment our waitress comes to the table. She’s skinny, tanned, and blonde with legs that are longer than I am tall and a skirt that barely covers her tight bubble butt. She introduces herself, never once bothering to look in my direction. Instead, she eye fucks my date.

Bitch.

I’m not really an insecure girl but sometimes you just feel small, you know? Like other people are bigger and brighter than you. Her vibe immediately makes me uncomfortable.

I look down at my lap to avoid watching them flirt. Absentmindedly, I pick the skin on the corners of my nails. I used to pick them so much they’d bleed until I had ugly, bloody fingers. Fingers no one would want touch. I’ve gotten past that though … most of the time.

“I’m usually a fan of red, but I’m just here to impress you, Flower, so what do you want?” I look up from my lap to see Luke’s eyes staring straight at me, completely ignoring our waitress.

“What?” I was so lost in my own mind that I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“The girl asked if we want wine.” His eyes never leave mine. He’s completely focused on me and only me. “So what do you want, red or white?”

I glance up to see our waitress is not amused by my date calling her a girl and essentially ignoring her advances. I can’t help the smile that pulls at my lips.

“I like red,” I state with a smirk.

I don’t really. I’m not much of a wine drinker, honestly. I’m more of a vodka Red Bull type of girl, but this doesn’t seem like that type of place.

“Merlot it is then,” he says, dismissing our waitress without so much as a glance in her direction. He returns my smile. Butterflies erupt in my core, and I clear my throat to try and settle my nerves.

Once little miss priss returns with the wine and takes our orders quickly before scurrying away, he places his elbows on the crisp white linen covering the table. His fingers steepled with his chin resting on his hands. His eyes scan my face slowly, as if he’s looking for something. His irises are so dark they almost blend with his pupils, giving the impression that his eyes are endless seas of darkness.

“Flower?” I finally ask him.

“You don’t like it?” he questions while sipping the wine from his glass and finally pulling his gaze from me.

“I do. But why?”

He seems to think for a moment; his dark eyes look at me with such intensity that I swear he’s staring into my soul.

“You’re sweet, colorful, and pretty.”

That’s … fucking shallow .

“But I get the feeling you also have thorns.”

It’s cheesy as hell but he’s not wrong. I have no idea how this man got a read on me so quickly. He must be good at assessing people. Good to know .

“I like it.” I take another sip of wine. “And I like you.”

A bright smile spreads across his face again and my stomach flips at his simple gesture. Damn, at this point I’m going to be a whore for a simple grin from this man.

“I like you too, Flower. In fact, this is the first date I’ve been on in, oh, I don’t even know how long.”

“More of a fuck ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy?” I quip.

He shrugs noncommittally. “Something like that.”

The waitress brings out my angel hair pasta and his veal parmigiana, making sure to bend all the way over and flash her goods in my date’s face as she does. I can’t help the eye roll I send her way. I’m over her shit. Luckily, when Luke catches my sass he simply smirks at me. Thank god he doesn’t seem to mind a girl with a little sass.

I swirl my pasta on my fork and take a large bite. I’m starving. The lemon sauce is heavenly and a satisfied moan escapes my mouth.

“If you keep making noises like that, Flower, we will have to take our food to go,” he whispers barely loud enough for me to hear.

Heat immediately rises in my cheeks. When I look up again, expecting to see him giving me a heated glare, I’m instead met with his face buried in his phone. His eyes zip back and forth, taking in something on the screen. He’s clearly displeased by whatever he sees, his face pulls into a scowl. The mask falls and the man underneath is finally sitting across from me. His cold, hard scowl glaring down at the screen.

That’s fucking rude.

Clearing my throat, I try to bring his attention back to our date. “So you get to call me Flower. What do I get to call you then?”

His eyes slowly drag from whatever is seemingly more important and up to meet mine. “Sorry, what?”

“Nevermind,” I mumble as I shove more pasta into my mouth.

We continue our dinner in a comfortable yet slightly tense silence. It’s not that anything is wrong or unpleasant. I probably shouldn’t be so upset that he was on his phone. He’s a successful lawyer. They’re busy, but things are now just off, and I can’t quite place my finger on what my hesitancy is. The mood has clearly shifted and I’m not sure why. We both pick at our meals, taking small bites and occasionally making polite small talk before the waitress comes back to box up our food.

“And will you be needing anything else this evening, sir?” she asks my date, giving me her back and completely ignoring my presence. “My number maybe? I get off in an hour and could use a drink.”

The fucking nerve of this bitch.

“Jessica, is it?” Luke’s deep timbre asks with a hint of amusement.

“Yes, sir,” she croons as her lithe fingers dance up the seam of his button down and her long blonde hair cascades around his shoulders.

“What I need from you is an apology.” My eyes shoot straight up at Luke’s words only to be met with his heated gaze watching me. His dark eyes bore into me with a fire I haven’t seen so far tonight. “You were exceptionally rude to my beautiful date. So you can either apologize to her and get the fuck out of my sight, or I can speak to your manager, who happens to be a good friend of mine, and inform him about your abysmal customer service abilities.”

I can’t stop the snort from leaving my mouth at his remark. Did he really just fucking say that to her? A small smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. Bleach-blonde bimbo Barbie turns slowly to face me, looking thoroughly disgusted. She refuses to make eye contact as I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms and looking thoroughly smug.

“Well?” I ask her. “I’m waiting for my apology.”

“Sorry,” she quickly mumbles before flipping her hair over her shoulder and storming off towards the kitchen.

Giggles bubble from my chest. I’m not usually one to laugh at another’s pain, but she fucking deserved that. Luke joins me, his face lighting up as he laughs.

“Let’s get out of here. What do you say?” he asks, pushing back from the table.

“I’d like that,” I say as I stand.

He leads me out of the restaurant and back to his car. This time his hand never leaves my lower back. His warm fingers against me feel safe and comforting. After guiding me into the low seat of his Audi, he leans across me to buckle my seat belt.

“I can manage myself,” I snark at him as he straightens.

He leans one arm across the open door of the car and looks down at me. “I know. But I want to take care of you, Flower. I get the sense that you don’t really have anyone taking care of you, maybe that needs to change.”

His words are sweet, but as they settle in, there’s something unnerving about them. He barely knows me at all, how the hell has he pegged me so well and so quickly?

We cruise back through town as pop punk blasts from his speakers. Not the genre I would have guessed for a man like him. He’s a contradiction. On the one hand he’s so polite and put together. But on the other hand, there’s a side of him that seems to be holding back. I’m curious about what lies beneath the smooth exterior he so readily portrays to the outside world.

As we come to a stop in front of my house, I unclip my seatbelt and pause. I’m about to ask him if he would like to come in when my phone buzzes within my purse. I’m tempted to ignore it but something tells me I need to check it. Opening my bag and grabbing my phone out I see a message flash across the screen.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: If you want to know where Celeste is, you’ll be my good girl and do as I say.

“I have to go. Emergency. Sorry,” I mumble to Luke before stumbling out of the car. I slam the door before he can even respond. Running to my door, I close and lock it before staring down at the illuminated screen. After taking a few deep breaths, I calm my nerves enough to type out a response.

Me: What do you want?

The reply comes back almost instantly and my stomach sinks.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: YOU.

I close my eyes and take another deep breath. The phone vibrates in my hand, signaling another message coming in. When I look down I see that the unknown number has attached a media message. Staring back at me from my screen is me. He sent me a picture of myself standing outside my door earlier this evening. It’s very clear now—whoever this is, they’ve definitely been stalking me.