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How has it only been three hours? I feel like I was with Andreas all day.
I exit my car right as Andreas pulls in next to me on the opposite side. He opens his door but doesn’t bother turning his engine off. I’m a little disappointed, as this means he’s not staying.
We walk through the main entrance and he scoffs at the broken security latch.
“No wonder someone broke into your apartment.”
I ignore him and lead him through the door and up the stairs to my apartment. After I unlock the door, I turn around and say, “Thanks for following me home and walking me in. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I wanted to make sure you got home safely. I’m a gentleman.”
He smiles as he leans forward and gives me a gentle kiss on the lips, quickly pulling away before it can deepen.
“Goodnight, I’ll dream of you.”
With that, he walks back down the stairs and leaves me with one foot in my apartment.
“Goodnight,” I call after him. “Text me when you make it home.”
I enter my apartment and lock the door behind me. The first thing I do is strip out of my going out outfit. I’m a pajama girl above all, and it’s time to be comfortable. The skirt goes first, then the shirt, and finally my bra. I stand in my living room naked, thinking about Andreas. Before I can chicken out, I shoot him a text:
ALANA MEYER:
I should’ve invited you in for a glass of wine.
While I wait for his response, I tidy up the living room and the kitchen. Discarded clothes lie forgotten on the living room floor. I left them lying around when I was trying to decide what to wear earlier, so I pick them up and walk into my bedroom to throw them in the hamper. As soon as I flip the switch to illuminate the room, a gasp flies from my mouth. My dresser drawers are hanging open and the top two drawers are empty. Every bra and every pair of panties are gone.
31
Chapter Thirty One
HIM
The past three weeks with my pet have felt like a fever dream. How did I get lucky enough to find someone as perfect as Alana? I haven’t ever been the romantic type, and never in my wildest dreams did I figure I would find a woman who met all of my criteria. I’ve been visiting and watching Alana as much as possible, and soon I’ll be able to prove to her how good we’ll be together.
I hope she enjoyed the message I left for her at work. I almost worked up the courage to tell her how I felt about her in person, but she was so busy with the rush of people she was tending to, I went into the parking lot and let her know the flowers were from me. I should’ve gone in and choked the cashier who took the message, though. She had a snotty attitude, and I’m not sure she even wrote what I said. Stupid cunt.
As I watch Alana walk into the ritzy bar in the art district of Carmel, I think about some of the other recent visits Alana and I have had. I went into her apartment when she left the other day, and spending time surrounded by her things is quickly becoming my favorite pastime. She had a friend with her, so I knew they’d be gone for a while. I looked through and smelled all of her dirty laundry, read through mail, and snooped through her computer. She really should make sure it’s password protected. After I scrolled through her social media accounts, I started looking through her drawers to find my favorite personal items, her vibrators.
One vibrator is silicone and U-shaped. There is gentle suction that sits directly over her clit while the other half goes inside to stimulate her G-spot. I guarantee Alana’s pussy creams so nicely when she uses it. The others are standard wands and a rose vibrator. I jerked my dick while I sucked on the toys. Right before I was about to come, I laid them down and unloaded all over them. I wiped them off with one of Alana’s dirty shirts, but I didn’t wash them. It’s enough to have me constantly hard knowing there could be traces of my DNA on a toy Alana is going to put inside her. I left her apartment in the best mood I’ve been in for a long time.
Alana looks gorgeous today in a black long-sleeve shirt with a deep plunge that exposes her breasts. The gray skirt elongates her legs and the heels she’s wearing add height to her short stature. The bench across from the bar gives me a great vantage point, and I’m thankful I can see her sitting at the bar rail. I could go inside, but I’m not ready to be that bold. I don’t think Alana has realized who I am, and I don’t want her to until I’m ready. There’s still so much to be done before then. I open my phone and pull up one of Alana’s social media profiles. I click on the YMCA picture she posted. She’s wearing the bathing suit from her car, and I sit and reflect on the incredible orgasm I had while stroking myself sitting in her car. Did she wash the suit, or did she wear it covered in my spunk? I feel my blood rush to my cock at the thought of the jizz covered bathing suit sitting against her snatch. I scroll through her other recent posts and glance back up to see that someone has joined her at the bar rail.
I stand and approach the bar, hoping to get a closer look. I can tell it’s a man, and that surprises me. He has dark hair and tan skin. I can tell he has tattoos on his forearms, and he seems tall and athletic. Alana obstructs his face, so it’s difficult to see his features. Alana isn’t dating anyone. She’s been single since she broke it off with the guy from her hometown. The man leans in close to Alana as I walk past the windows, and now that I’m closer, I know that I’ve seen him somewhere before.
Needing to be closer to them, I enter the restaurant and request a table for one in the dining room area. The vapid blonde bimbo of a hostess seats me with a bird’s-eye view of Alana and her friend. I pull my baseball cap down over my eyes and hold a menu up but keep my eyes trained on them. Every time Alana laughs, my anger climbs.
When the man places his hand on Alana’s thigh, it takes everything in me not to stand up and physically remove it. My hand flies to my pocket, stroking the knife I’ve carried since I was a teenager. I can’t sit here and watch Alana whore herself out to this piece of shit. This is unacceptable. I stand up and walk back the way I entered the bar, as far away from Alana as possible. I exit the front door and push through the crowd of people gathered outside the front door before I take off in a jog toward the parking lot. I have to get the fuck out of here before I do something stupid.
Alana has to be punished. She can’t treat me like this. Who the fuck does she think she is? Doesn’t she know I’d fucking do anything for her? Can’t she feel how much I need her? I unlock my car, jump behind the steering wheel, and start the engine. Violently, I back out of the spot and almost run over a pedestrian. I honk, startling the man. He leaps out of my way, and I peel out onto the street. I’m not even sure where I’m driving until I pull into the parking lot of Alana’s apartment complex.
I sit in my car and take in my surroundings. The family that lives below Alana is walking out to their beat-up Tahoe, and there are a few people outside walking their dogs. It’s risky to be here during the day like this, but I need to send Alana a message. I wait until everyone seems distracted, and I quickly make my way into the building, up the stairs, and make quick work of unlocking Alana’s apartment.
These old locks aren’t safe and are very easy to pick. I enter Alana’s apartment and can smell the Bath and Body Works candle she was burning earlier. There are clothes and makeup strewn about in the living room, and the bedroom door is open. I walk into the bedroom and collapse onto her bed, contemplating what I should do next. I inhale deeply and enjoy the sensation of having Alana’s scent overwhelming my senses.
I pull my phone out and open the texting app, quickly typing Alana’s phone number from memory. Thank God her idiot friend posted a screenshot on Instagram that had Alana’s phone number on it, or I would have had to work harder to get it. The first message I draft is too angry, too violent. So I erase it and start over. Still, it reads like a serial killer’s diary, and I can’t send it without her going directly to the cops. I stand and walk over to a pile of dirty clothes, grab a pair of underwear from the top, and begin sucking on the crotch of them. I can taste the musk of Alana’s pussy in my mouth, and my cock springs to life.
I make quick work of pulling my pants down and squeezing my thick cock, jerking angrily. I come quickly onto Alana’s bedroom floor. Just like I knew it would, the orgasm calms me. I slide the dirty panties into my pocket for safekeeping and pull my phone out again. I erase the text I had written minutes before, calling her a cheating fucking bitch, and type something calmer before I hit send.
