Hidden Love by MINK

3

Silas

“God, did I love till now?” I lean back against my front door after I close it, all my senses attuned to the perfect woman next door. Her curly hair in tangles, her glasses askew, her sweater tattered, and her living room a mess of books and snack wrappers. She makes my heart beat. Gives me purpose.

I used to think my only purpose was to dispose of garbage. People, to be precise. People who preyed on others, who hurt innocents, who betrayed and stole and raped and maimed and murdered. They gave me purpose.

Until her. Until I saw her. An innocent meeting. Totally by chance at the local coffee shop. I’d put in my order and was waiting patiently at the counter.

Then this glorious angel, her hair in an ancient scrunchie and a laptop with a WebSleuths sticker on it tucked under her arm, stumbled in the door, righted herself, then strutted right up and gave a very serious drink order in the sweetest tone.

Smitten. Right then. Like a bolt from above, an arrow piercing that muscle that had never been used for anything except pumping ice water through my veins. Resplendent in a worn Hello Kitty T-shirt and pink leggings, she instantly became my muse, my guiding light.

I press my palm to my chest, my heart rampaging. I was so close to her. Right next to her on that sofa, her soft hair and sweet skin only inches from me.

“She thinks I’m in danger,” I say to my empty house as I shake my head with a smile. The thought of her trying to protect me is too much, and I let out a small laugh. She is everything that is good and right in my world.

I sigh and push off the door. Heading past my living room and into the dining room, I sit down in front of my many screens. The one in the living room is twisted to the wrong angle again. Toby likes to paw at it every chance he gets, the little mischief maker. I change my view to her kitchen.

She’s there, bent over the counter, her nose in a book as she nibbles a PopTart. One minute and thirteen seconds. That’s her favorite level of toasting in her toaster. In mine, it’s closer to 56 seconds. I’ve experimented to ensure I’ll have it right in the future.

Toby hops up next to her, his feline eyes on the camera that Jamie’s never so much as glanced at.

“Mind your business, boy.” I waggle a finger at him.

He blinks.

“Okay, but here it is.” She points at a page in her book and looks up at Toby. “Killers fixate on a person. One person. And then they stalk and kill them. So, why does this killer not fit the profile? All the victims are quite different. The only thread that connects them is me. They all had some sort of connection to my life.”

She offers him a bit of PopTart.

He puts his nose in the air.

“Everything I’ve read says that if the killer is stalking me, then I’m the one that should be dead. But I’m not. So, what does that mean?” She finishes her PopTart, some of the crumbs falling into her shirt. I’ve noticed, when going through her laundry, her sports bras have colorful stains in the spots between her breasts. I eventually realized they’re melted PopTart sprinkles. “It’s Trevor, isn’t it?” She stands and pets him, stroking his furry back. “He’s the killer. I mean, he’s clearly a psycho.” She points to her cheek. “But, then again, he showed up after Sarah was killed, so …” She trails off, still petting the purring Toby.

“I need a good bath and a think.” She swipes her book from the counter and marches to the bathroom.

I pull up that camera.

True to her word, she starts running a bath and strips out of her clothes. I should be a gentleman and look away. I don’t. I never do.

Instead, I reach down and free my cock, fisting my shaft as she bends over to check the water, her plump ass on perfect display. I should be there right now, pumping into her, but instead I wait. She has to come to me. And when she does, I’ll spring my trap and keep her all to myself forever.

Until then, I watch.

She turns, her round breasts jiggling as her nipples harden in the cool air. They’re light pink, the perfect accent to her fair skin, and they would look absolutely perfect covered in my cum. The thought sends a sizzle down my spine and into my sack.

Just looking at her brings me to the edge, but I back off. Enjoying her bath can’t end so quickly, not when I already know exactly how she likes to do her best thinking.

She slides into the water, her moaning sigh making me grit my teeth. Teeth that should be biting her shoulder right now as I claim her, fucking her every which way until she knows we belong together.

When she settles into her favorite spot--her neck on the rolled edge of the tub, her nipples just peaking over the water--she moves her hand between her legs.

I watch. I watch so fucking intently that sweat forms on my brow. Stroking in time with her, I imagine myself there, my tongue between her thighs as I eat her perfect cunt. Every lick sending her higher and higher.

And then, when she gasps and arches her back, I let go. She comes on a moan, and I spurt right along with her, imagining my seed inside her, coating every bit of her with everything I am. She deserves all of me, so I give it.

When we come down, I lean back and watch her breathe. Just floating there in the tub like the most beautiful siren.

What will she do when I claim her the first time? I’ve been waiting a long time to find out. But now that Trevor is out of the way, this is my time to strike. My time to woo her with every weapon in my arsenal. She is meant for me, and I know with a certainty that verges on insanity that she will realize that fact very soon.

I lean down and clean up my mess, then stand to toss the tissues in my wastebasket.

But she shifts in the tub, the rush of water meeting my ears. Sitting straight up, the water sluicing off her curvy body, she bites her lips.

“Holy crap. What if Silas is the killer?”