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My feet land silently on the thick, pink carpet, and I tiptoe my way out of the empty room.
Silence prevails from the other side of the door as I press my ear to it. No Marcus walking around the house or talking over the phone to a colleague or a patient. Silence.
I peek out and hear the dull sound of music coming from his room. The stalker that I am, I know it means he’s either about to fall asleep or jerk off.
Both options excite me. Both turn me on.
Desire has me slipping out the room toward him. I wonder what songs he’s playing tonight. Whether he’s shirtless or not. If I’ll get to see streaks of silver moonbeams illuminating his corded arms. His sculpted chest. The sexy angles of his jaw.
What I don’t have to wonder about is the tattoo of Rylan’s birthdate. Marcus inked it to the arm closer to the window, sparing me from rubbing one—or many—out with the constant reminder of my best friend while I do.
I’ll only see him.
Only him.
CHAPTER TWO
Marcus
Those gentle, hushed footsteps always give her away.
It’s cute that she thinks I can’t hear her approaching my bedroom. So fucking cute when she does her best to creep up on me unnoticed.
I know she’s coming. I feel her even though I pretend to have my eyes closed. The new tattoo on my forearm stings, reminding me how mine she is.
My ears are trained on the sound of her feet padding outside my door. My nose picks up on the scent of her body mist—goddamn daisies—when she’s close.
Our hearts are connected. So much so, that if hers ever stops, I’ll drop dead right beside her.
I’m hard and possessive. Waiting. Impatient as hell, but I wait.
She’s here.
Sleep Token’s “Hypnosis” plays quietly over the speaker by my bed. Over the guitar and vocals, there’s the sweetest melody of Leighton’s inhales and exhales.
Over the last four plus years, I haven’t always jerked off when she peeked into my room. On the days when I brought my patients’ pain home with me from the clinic, I haven’t touched myself.
I’ve pretended to sleep. Shamelessly listened to the sounds of Leighton’s wet pussy as she touched herself. Reveled in her gasp when she orgasmed.
Tonight isn’t one of those nights. Tonight, I’m here to play. To fuck with her senses like she fucks with mine.
It’s a hardship to do it from my bed. Every cell in my body demands I fling my legs off the bed, chase Leighton, and take her the way I want.
Rough. Merciless. Painful.
Because there’s no denying that’s exactly what I want. The violence brimming inside me whenever I’m near Leighton is dangerous. The tools in my professional arsenal have done their job over the past four years. The monster’s been contained.
But it won’t last. I’ve done a lot of messed up crap to prove this point.
More of Sleep Token’s songs keep playing when Leighton finally touches herself. The small “Ahh” is her tell. It’s the sign that one or more of her fingers press to where she needs me the most.
Me.
At first, her breaths are long and languid. She’s getting used to the feel, warming herself up.
I’m assaulted by the images of her clit from years ago. Pink and beautiful between her slightly parted thighs. How it peeked from between her pussy lips, teasing me to touch it. Begging for me to take it into my mouth.
Suck on it. Make Leighton scream. Drive her insane until she had no choice but to pull on my hair.
