The Unsettled Series

HIM

I need her. I crave her. She’s all I think about, day in and day out. She’s everything to me.

I’m sure she thinks that I watch her to scare her. However, even three months ago when she first moved in, that was as far from the truth as she could be.

My routine included observing the nosy little neighbor, watching her, and obsessing over her every move. It was never about scaring her.

Honestly, the second I started paying attention to her…that woman struck a different chord. She makes my cock hard, and she makes me want things I cannot afford—in this life or in the next.

She is mine, though.

She thinks she is safe here, far away from the troubles of her previous home. She is wrong. That loathsome ex of hers, a lowlife by the name of Jer Scholls, followed her here. He watches her too, but he is sloppy with his craft.

He sucks at hiding—twice already she’s almost spotted him from the corner of her eye—and the nasty presents he leaves her make me sick. She doesn’t want letters or reminders of a relationship she left.

So far, I have made all his little gifts disappear before she saw them. I have kept her distracted and dancing to my tune, far away from Jer’s pathetic attempts to gain her attention.

But my deterrence is making him frustrated. Soon, he’s going to step up his game, and I’m going to have to stop him. He will not hurt my doll. He will not be allowed anywhere near her.

A silly image plays through my head. In my fantasy, I slaughter Jer in cold blood. Then my doll accepts me as I am, and I celebrate by plunging straight into that sweet spot between her legs.

That’s another thing that wasn’t supposed to happen. I knew she was mine, but I was never supposed to touch her. Angels are not meant for demons like me.

But the temptation was too great, and fuck, she loves my touch. She craves it almost as much as I crave her. She whines for me, screams for me. Hell, she ~waits~ for me.

I know she has doubts—doubts about me, doubts about whether she is the only one for me, doubts about this whole strange game we play together. Someday, I will make her understand everything.

For now, I watch from afar as she makes her unsteady way toward the restaurant, her friends, her normal life. I watch, and I quietly burn.

***

A week after she left that letter inside my mail slot, we were texting heavily back and forth. Well, I was texting her and she was reading them. She hadn’t called the police yet, and she had started leaving the light on in her bedroom.

On the first night she left her curtains open, I had to call her, tell her what I wanted to do to her—what I wanted her to do to me. Fuck, I was sure she would race off to the authorities after that.

But she didn’t.

She said two words that had my entire resolve crumbling. “Show me.”

And I did.

That night, and every night after that.

It wasn’t until we had been toying with each other for a few weeks that I took it a step further and asked her to stand outside in her little garden. In a skirt.

I didn’t think she’d do it. I didn’t think she’d be game for my twisted desires and yet, minutes later, I found her standing outside wearing her favorite, gorgeous black miniskirt.

Her eyes wandered through the dark, most likely looking for me—for my face—as I approached.

I never let her see it.

Even getting this close was against the rules, but I had to fucking taste her.

“Close your eyes.” She wanted to argue, I could tell, but this was the only way any physical contact could work. If she didn’t see me, then I could justify my actions. “Doll, I need you to—”

“Closed.”

My cock pressed painfully against the seam of my pants at her obedience. I closed the distance between us, running my fingers down her bare arms, her body trembling beneath my touch. She was so beautiful, and soft, and…

Unable to help myself, I leaned closer, brushing my lips against hers. Her lips parted in response, giving me permission to take more.

The space between our houses was shrouded in darkness and bushes, something I was grateful for as I walked her back against the wall of her dwelling. Her breasts pressed against my chest, her nipples hard as steel as I swallowed her lips.

She tasted fucking divine.

Her hands dug into my shoulders as I hoisted her up, her legs automatically wrapping around my waist. “Doll, fuck, you’re so gorgeous. I need to taste you. Will you let me?”

She gave me some garbled response as she nodded her head. I disentangled myself from her and set her back on her feet before dropping to my knees, in awe of the glistening lips that met my face beneath her skirt.

I blew a small breath against her pussy as her stance widened. Then I dragged one of her legs over my shoulder.

“Shit—what, ungh—”

She fell back against the wall, fingers sliding into my hair as I tasted her nectar. I grimaced at the temptation on my tongue. I should have never come so close, because from that moment on I was never letting her go.

***

My attention returns to my doll, and I watch as she eats. I have to wave off my own waiter so that I’m not distracted.

The coffee sitting on the table in front of me will suffice. I will make sure to tip heavily for the inconvenience, but the only thing on my mind is her.

After a few minutes of staring at her, I realize that the smile she’s giving to her friends no longer reaches her eyes. For a moment, I think I’ve done something wrong. Then she looks down at her phone, and the smile disappears entirely.

Her head jerks up, her brows furrowing as her eyes lock on another man. He’s lurking at the restaurant entrance, staring fixedly at her. I instantly hate him, even more so when I recognize him. Her ex.

I want very much to stand up and rip his head off right here, in the middle of this busy restaurant. But I can’t do that—not if I want to keep my doll from seeing my face.

She excuses herself again from the table, but this time she lays down a few bills and takes her purse. Naturally, I follow her, glaring at the man who has brought this pained expression to my woman’s face.

From my perch against a close wall, I can hear his heated words.

“Why the fuck have you not been calling me back?”

He’s been calling her? When? I’ve been watching her almost nonstop since she came into my life, and I’ve never seen her taking a call from this man. Not to mention, I occasionally ask her about her day, and this has never come up.

I make a note to bring it up with her later.

She whines. The sound is far different from the one she makes with me when she’s on the cusp of an orgasm—she’s annoyed, tired of his nagging.

“Because we’re not together,” she says. “You hit me, remember? Or did you block that out like you do everything else?” Her fists are curled by her sides as she puffs out her chest in defiance.

I like her when she’s like this—strong. But then her words sink in. He hit her? He will have to die for that crime. I already hate that he’s touched what’s mine. I cannot abide that he has damaged her.

“Look, you need to understand, that was a one-time thing! I never meant to hurt you. All right? Just… Let’s talk, all right?”

Her fun day at the mall is ruined. She looks like she’s holding back tears. “Understand? Jer, you have a problem. You drink, and you’re loud, and you get angry too fucking quick.

“That might have been the only time you struck me, but that’s because it was the only time I didn’t stop you!” Her voice raises, and her words gut me.

I’m ten seconds away from ripping him apart, right where he stands, in the middle of the mall where everyone can see.

But with extreme force of will, I hold myself back. There would be no more special moments between me and my doll after I murdered someone in front of her.

She wraps her arms around her chest and stalks off to her car, and that man runs after her. She’s looking around. I think she’s looking for me to come save her, but I can’t. Not in the daylight. Not where everyone can see.

However, I won’t leave her alone with that man. I stop a mall cop and point him in their direction. The man nods seriously and strides out into the parking lot.

I crack a smile when I see her ex skedaddle away at the first sign of trouble. The mall cop starts talking to my doll, probably asking if she’s all right. I can tell she’s shaken, but I can’t run to hold her. For all the world, I wish I could.