Page 3 of Overpowered
It pulses through me and prowls like a ravenous beast, demanding I take; devour her until she’s all I see, smell, feel and taste. I want her with an overriding hunger that’s driving me to madness and in a logical part of my mind, I know that I can’t have her. These hands, these filthy, stained hands cannot possibly touch that smooth skin and hold that lighthearted fairy. I’m stained by darkness and she is my light. I’m dead, my soul long ago snuffed out but she’s breathed life back into me with nothing more than a look, a smile, and a soft word.
“I want her,” I rasp, barely feeling the cold as I grip my cock through my jeans and squeeze, a groan leaving me when momentary relief fills me.
I nearly go to my knees when I force my hand to release my aching shaft and that’s only because this cock no longer belongs to me. No, this, every part of me, my fucking breath, all belong to this woman and the hardest part of this obsession is that Rebecca Post doesn’t even know I exist.
I know about her though.
I’ve spent the last months following her every move, watching her like a hawk and stalking the fuck out of her in a bid to know everything I can about her. She’s precious, perfect, an angel fallen from the heavens to captivate men and I would sell my soul to have just one taste of her. She’s bewitched me, stolen my sense and every cold drop of logic I once held. With one look.
“Please,” I beg, my eyes burning as I watch her stretch out on the sofa and kick the blanket free, a growl of desperation bursting from my burning chest when I take in her body.
White panties. She’s wearing tiny white panties and a pink tank top that barely reaches her belly button. So much skin, I think, my hand reaching for my cock and sliding into my pants before I can stop myself. I’m jacking my cock before I can stop, before a thought has even entered my head and I grind my teeth against the need to come as Rebecca raises her arms and stretches, exposing that slick skin to me. I can see her nipples through the soft pink top, two large, dark pink disks that I would kill to suck on. And that belly, those hips, dear God! They’re so curvy and soft looking. I bet they’d cushion me so soft as I railed my cock deep into that slick pussy.
“Fuck.” I groan as I force my hand to still, squeezing my cock so hard it aches.
Aches for her. Only ever her.
“Rebecca.”
Just the taste of her name on my lips has me shuddering and when I let myself look down to where her legs are spread out, those white panties showing a hint of her little slit, I feel as if I’ll lose my ever-loving mind. One lick. I would cut off my arm for one lick of that tender flesh and if I could just eat it to orgasm and bathe in her come…
“Need her. You need her. You need to get her,” I rasp, a sense of aching terror filling when I think of not ever having this woman. “So, plan.”
Plan? Yes. I need a plan. Can’t take much fucking more of this, I groan as I release my throbbing shaft and stuff it back down, the agony of unfulfilled lust setting up a pulse of need in my flesh.
“Woo her. I should woo her,” I declare as a plan starts to solidify in my mind and I consider everything I’ve learned so far.
I’ve done everything Rebecca would probably consider insane. Hell, if she knew the lengths I’ve gone to in the last few days, she’d run like hell. But I needed it. I had to have a piece of her and I think about that piece, those soft, musky panties that I stole when I broke into her house. I looked through it all. Laid my head on her pillow and sucked in her lilac scent from her bedding, worshipping the place she lays her head. I ran my face over her sheets and sucked on her toothbrush, nearly blacking out when I got a little taste of her mouth.
I’ve tracked her period through the trash, taken a bite of a half-eaten sandwich she left on her kitchen counter, and then when my depravity couldn’t hold back anymore, I stole a pair of her panties that made me come in my pants the moment I shoved them to my face and sucked in her scent.
“Date,” I snarl, my mind finally settling as I slump against the tree, a sense of relief filling me.
I need to ask her on a date and if I’m lucky enough to get one, I’m going to make it fucking count.
Chapter two
Becks
I’m bone-tired as I sweep up the last clump of hair and dispose of it, turning to inspect the salon and make sure I’ve cleaned every inch. I hate this job, hate this town and I despise the people who live here but short of robbing a bank and stealing a car to make my getaway, I’m stuck here, living in the house my grandma left me and pretending to be happy.
It’s been two years since gran passed away and I still feel the ache of her loss so keenly that I have to stifle a sob. There’s been no one in all that time who’s even come close to filling the hole she left behind and the few times I’ve tried to date have ended in disaster. I don’t trust easily, thanks to a childhood that screwed me up pretty bad, and as a result, I’ve basically been alone for two years. It’s just me, my little house, and a love for comedy that’s saved me more than once.
“You done, Becks?” Martha calls from the back before she shuffles out and gives me a stern frown. “You sterilize those shears too?”
“Of course,” I say softly, hating myself for my timidity and wishing I could just say what I want to say.
But I never do. I follow rules, obey orders and then go home to my empty little house wishing for a life I can’t have.
“Good. Then skedaddle on home. More rain’s coming. Best get going before it catches you,” Martha mutters, not bothering to offer me a ride.
Not that I’d take it. I always ride my little bike home telling myself that I need the exercise. The truth is, I don’t have a choice since the only car I have is gran’s big Impala that crapped out on me months ago and needs too much fixing for me to handle. I tried to get it looked at a month ago and Bert even sent his son out from the garage to take a look but that ended so badly I still can’t bring myself to call Bert back.
“Okay. See you on Monday, Martha,” I say softly, grabbing my purse and skittering out of the salon to unchain my bike.
It is pitch black out and even though the inky black I can see the ominous clouds threatening to unleash unholy terror. I’m frightened of the storm, my pulse picking up and racing as I run down the sidewalk with my bike and put a foot to one pedal to hop on, my legs pumping hard until I’m out of town and heading down the dark road that leads to my house.
It’s freezing and my nose tingles as lightning starts to strike, the rumble of thunder causing me to scream behind my teeth as I pedal faster. It’s no use though. Should have known I wouldn’t make it, I think as the first raindrop falls and then ushers in a downpour that drenches me to the bone in seconds.
