Page 77 of Make You Mine

Once I have evidence, the police won’t be able to say they can’t do anything about it.

Once there’s proof, things are different.

Now, step two. I pick up a pen from my desk, and open one of the new notebooks that’ll perform as my new diary.

I make sure to scratch on the front, Maddy’s new diary. Keep out, or there’ll be consequences.

With a title like that, the bastard won’t be able to resist.

On the first page, I write down the dirtiest, darkest, and most explicit fantasy I came up with, just for him.

A little somno play I always wanted to try.

The possibility of it happening turns me on. If he goes along with it, it would be a win-win.

I’m not opposed to an orgasm.

I close the diary with the pen stuck between the pages I want him to see, and leave it on the desk.

He’ll take the bait. And tomorrow I’ll celebrate.

I throw myself into bed, ready to get a good night’s sleep, knowing justice will be served soon.

After thirty minutes of tossing and turning, I give up. I’m too energized and fueled by my plan about to come to fruition that I can’t seem to relax. Waiting for the moment things happen, to catch my stalker red-handed.

Besides…my fantasy isn’t fake. I’m sick for even coming up with it, for wanting it—but I’m giving into my deepest desires with it.

Kayden letting me ride his thigh was great, but it wasn’t nearly enough. I need more to satiate my thirst.

Maybe it’s the stress of the situation and everything. But I’m suddenly overpowered with need.

My whole body’s ignited.

I should try to sleep, keep lying in bed, and surrender until I doze off.

Instead, I find myself reaching into the drawer of my nightstand for my Kindle.

Maybe reading will soothe me, satisfy my hunger with words and lull me to sleep.

Nope. Even reading about a girl being double penetrated by two masked former hockey players in the woods won’t cut it for me tonight. It only gets me more in the mood. I’m fully awake.

There’s one way I know to get rid of all this tension and energy. The easiest way, really.

The way my body wants me to.

The tingling sensation between my legs is asking for it.

But my fucking vibrator is out of battery.

I huff as I push it deep into my drawer, along with my Kindle, which is surprisingly at ninety percent, despite not having charged it in weeks.

“Dammit.”

What does a girl need to do to get some kind of relief?

Maybe I should just wait it out? Let my stalker come in? Fake sleep?

No. He won’t come in if I’m awake, he’ll know. He’s watching me.