Stalker (The Company Book 3)

Present, a few days later …

Phoenix sits in his chair, gazing at me while twirling a knife in his hand. I wonder what goes through his head when he’s looking at me like that. Like I’m the prey he’s caught and now has to decide what to do with me. I’m just sitting here silently in my cage, waiting until he makes his move. I won’t fight him. I won’t disobey him. I’ll give him anything he wants … so that eventually he’ll let me be free again.

I’m not so sure that he still plans to kill me. If he really wanted to, he’d have done it by now. I’m starting to think he’s having his doubts, so I’ll make sure to use them against him. Maybe help him remember the time he used to love me.

After a while, he gets up and walks toward my cage. The smirk on his face is both irresistible and infuriating. I wrap my fingers around the bars and look up at him with my doe-like eyes, hoping it will give me an advantage.

“Stop fluttering those eyelashes, Vanessa. It won’t help you.”

I shrug as he goes on his knees and finally takes the duct tape off my face. I groan as he rips it away because it leaves a sizzling burn. “Thank you,” I say.

“Hmm …” He frowns, cocking his head. “You’ve never been very grateful. It sounds so strange coming from your mouth.”

I smile. “Well, there’s always a first for everything.”

He shakes his head, laughing. “You … you’re really a piece of work, you know that?”

“That’s what everyone says. I don’t see it.”

“Or you just don’t want to.” He clears his throat. “Turn around.”

I do what he says, and he grabs my arms and puts the cuffs on my wrists. Then he grabs a leather leash he bought and hooks it to the ring on my neck. With a key, he opens the chains around the cage and pulls it open. “Out.”

On hands and feet, I crawl out of the small prison he’s confined me to. It’s hard, considering my hands are chained together, but I manage. Phoenix pulls on the leash until my neck rises and I’m forced to sit on the back of my feet.

“Get up,” he says.

I get up slowly, keeping my eyes on him at all times. He tugs the leather fastened to the band around my neck, causing me to fall into his arms.

“Careful there, Princess.” He grins.

“You pulled,” I say, as I try to keep standing without having my hands available to hold onto something.

“I want you to feel what it’s like to be controlled by someone else,” he muses, hauling me closer with the leash. “And how does it feel?”

“It feels wrong.”

The left side of his lip curls up. “Wrong can be good sometimes.” He lifts the knife in his other hand and runs it along my cheek, making me shiver. “I like it better this way …” he murmurs. Then he cuts into my skin. I have trouble not making a sound as the blood drops roll down my face.

“So beautiful …” he whispers. “Such a shame I have to fuck it all up.”

“Why?” I ask. I don’t understand his obsession with my blood.

He leans in, his tongue dipping out to pick up a droplet of blood. “Because you won’t be able to lie anymore once you’re just as ugly as I am. Except where I’m only ugly on the inside, you’ll be ugly on both sides.”

“No,” I say. “I don’t think you’re ugly.”

He stops and looks at me for a moment, just breathing in silently.

“Liar,” he murmurs.

“No. It’s the truth,” I say. “Why else would I get so …” I smash my lips together.

“Excited?” A spark ignites in his eyes. “Hmm …”

The cut in my cheek isn’t deep, but it sizzles and burns like hell. Damn him. I can’t keep up with him; he keeps changing his behavior.

“You know. I could get used to this,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

He leans in to whisper in my ear, “You as my pet instead of an enemy.”

I suck in a breath when he places a kiss on my neck, the knife still inches away from puncturing my skin again. It’s such a double message; I don’t know what to think or feel which is exactly what he wants.

He whispers, “I think I’d rather keep you alive than let you die without having had any fun.” The blade slides down and underneath my chin. “Do you agree?”

I nod, careful not to cut my own skin with his knife.

“And I’m having so much fun right now,” he whispers, pulling the leash even tighter as if he wants to hear me gasp. “And I can tell you are, too.”

“What gives it away?” I jest as sarcastically as I can.

“Oh, don’t think you can hide your excitement from me, Vanessa. I know how much you’ve craved a strong hand like mine.” The knife drifts down my arm, almost as if he’s caressing me with it. “All those years in a dried-up marriage must have left you so hungry …” He growls in my ear, licking my earlobe. “Hungry for a real man.”

I take in a ragged breath feeling him smile against my skin. As much as I want to deny his claims, I have to admit that I’ve always wanted a strong, independent, dominant man, someone who was capable of claiming my heart without me handing it to him on a platter. Someone who loved me for who I was, no-holds-barred.

Except I don’t want him to be that man.

How could he be? After all the things we’ve done to each other?

“C’mon,” he says, and he pulls my leash, dragging me with him toward the kitchen.

I’m surprised to find a table for two already decked out. My surprise seems to catch his attention.

“Have I impressed you?” he asks, tying my leash to a wooden beam.

“Expecting company?”

He frowns, as if he doesn’t get my question. “No. Why would you think that?”

“Are you saying that you set the table for me, too?”

“Well, like I said, I thought you might be hungry.” His smirk is so incredibly annoying and sexy … god, I’m not sure if I want to scold him or smile back.

Especially when he starts biting his own lip ring … fuck, that’s hot.

Jesus, why am I thinking about this?

“Sit,” he commands, which gives me an excuse not to think about it. “On the back of your feet.”

I sit down on the floor, but he’s tied the leash so high that it forces me to keep my head up. “Don’t move,” he says. “You know what happens if you do.”

In this position, in the corner of the room, I look like a girl waiting for someone. Always waiting … waiting for him. Just like he’d probably want me to.

It’s all a game. All of this. Mind games—that’s what he’s playing. And it’s working.

With a self-indulgent smile, he walks back to the stove and starts cooking some delicious pancakes that make my mouth water when I smell them. Damn, I didn’t know he could cook this good. After thirty minutes, my stomach is killing me and so are my legs, but I can’t falter in my devotion to make him think he’s in charge. Sometimes, he briefly glances at me while flipping the pancakes, smoking at the same time. The smug look on his face makes me blush.

When he’s done, he places them on the table, puts out his smoke, and comes toward me. He unties the leash and gently holds it in his hand, not even tight, as if he expects me to heel. And he’s right, I won’t run because I know I won’t be able to escape his grasp. Not yet. I have to wait until the time is right, until he’s lifted all my restrictions, and his heart is wide open.

Just like it used to be, before I stomped on it.

I must say, I do regret my actions in the past, but I can’t change what I’ve done. I hate how I treated him, but I did it for the right reasons. What he did, however, was not for the right reasons.

Trying to frame me for the murder of my husband. Locking me up in a cage.

He’s turned into a monster.

And now I’m his. The monster’s pet. But he knows as well as I do that it’s not as black and white as it seems. We’re both monsters in our own story. I have spun his heart around my finger and crushed it with my bare hands. A long time ago, he was the pet … and then I became the monster. Now the roles have reversed. I can’t say I didn’t see it coming. I just didn’t think it’d be like this, with him literally tying me up, feeding me pancakes with a big grin on his face.

He seems to be enjoying this a little too much.

“Like the pancakes?” he asks, holding up the fork with another slice.

“They’re good,” I say, swallowing.

“Do you mean that, or are you just saying that to please me?” He swings the next bit in front of my face as if it’s a game and I’m supposed to reach out and bite it off.

“I mean it,” I say.

“Hmm … or maybe it’s the hunger talking.”

“Could be. You didn’t actually feed me that often.”

“That’s because you didn’t deserve it,” he muses, pushing another piece into my mouth.

After I chew on it for a bit, I say, “And now I do?”

“Hmm …” He smiles, leaning on his hand as if he’s bored. “You’ve been a good girl these past few days.”

“Hmm … should I take that as a compliment?” I jest, opening my mouth to await the next piece.

He just gazes at me from under his eyelashes. “You know … I love it when you have that pretty mouth of yours open. Makes me want to put other things inside it.”

My cheeks flush, and then he shoves another piece of pancake inside my mouth, preventing me from reacting. When I’ve swallowed it, he pulls my leash toward him and says, “Show your appreciation, Princess. Pucker up.”

I close my eyes as he leans in to kiss me on my lips, his taste mingling with the sweetness of the pancakes. He’s not rough at all, just slow and sensual, which throws me off because I didn’t expect it. At least, not from him. He’s always so demanding and quick, as if he wants to make the most out of the seconds he has, but now he’s taking his sweet time. Licking my lips, groaning between every kiss. His sounds and kisses enthrall me. I’m a puppet to his desires, and I don’t even mind.

“You taste so good, Princess …” he murmurs into my mouth. “Like strawberries covered in honey.” He bites his lip and kisses me again, holding the leash tight as if he’s afraid I’ll move away if he doesn’t. I wouldn’t, not even if he let go of it completely.

“I wonder if you taste like that everywhere,” he says, getting up from the chair to get near to me. He pulls me up for another kiss, putting his grabby hands on my waist. They slowly inch down toward my ass, squeezing lightly as his kisses become deeper and more vigorous. He moans into my mouth, alerting all my senses as his grip on my leash and ass becomes tighter.

“C’mere,” he growls, as he suddenly lifts me off the ground and sets me down on the table.

He slides aside the plates and cutlery, making room for me to sit properly as he devours my mouth. I don’t know why he’s this lusty, but I’m not complaining one bit. I’d rather have this Phoenix than the murderous one. I suppose I’m not the only one having regrets. After all, we once were lovers. It’s hard not to fall into an old pattern.

“Fuck, I wanna taste that sweetness of yours,” he murmurs, planting kisses all over my chest.

He rips off the tiny pink crop top he bought for me, tearing it to pieces. Grabbing a handful of my breast, he puts his lips to it and sucks, hard. So hard, it makes me gasp out loud, and when he bites and tugs my nipple, I squeal from excitement.

“You seem to like a little pain, Vanessa,” he muses, licking my sensitive nipple.

“Well, I sure as hell don’t mind this,” I moan when he does the same to the other nipple.

“Oh, do you now?” he says with a smirk as he looks up. “And here I thought you didn’t want me to use you as a fuck toy.”

“I consider this the better option.”

“Than?”

I look down into his eyes. “Being killed.”

“Oh.” He laughs. “There are many, many things I want to do to you, Princess, and killing is still at the top of my list.”

“Then why don’t you?” I ask.

His brows furrow, and he stops to look me in the eyes, pulling my leash. But instead of answering, he presses his lips onto mine and kisses away the doubt I felt.

Of course, he still wants to kill me. Who wouldn’t, after what I’ve done.

He just can’t. Whatever is left of his heart won’t let him.

***

PHOENIX

Goddamn her and her infuriating nonstop questions.

When I take my lips off hers, I want to dive back in. I tell myself that I shouldn’t—that she’s fucking bad for me, and that I’m fucking bad for her—but I just can’t fucking stay away. But every time she opens that damn mouth of hers, something comes out that reminds me of all the hatred I have stored inside, and it pisses me off.

So I reach for a tablecloth and stuff it in her mouth. “Shut up and keep that in there.”

She murmurs disapprovingly, but I ignore her sounds and continue to ravish her beautiful titties. Nothing like smashing your face into a couple of titties in the morning. The best way to start the day.

I push her further onto the table, taking a handful of her beautiful tits just so I can squeeze them. Her moans don’t penetrate the cloth, but they sure as hell make my cock twitch. I don’t give a damn about what I’m actually supposed to be doing now that I have her in my clutches; all I want to do is fuck her day in and day out. It makes me think of all those years ago, when all I wanted was to be with her. The rest of the world could suck it for all I cared. Except it didn’t turn out that way, so I push the thought away.

Instead, I push her skirt up and let my fingers slide up her thighs to her pussy, teasing her by brushing over it quickly. Her moans turn me on so much that I start licking and nibbling on her ear and biting her neck. Her excitement makes her spit out the cloth in her mouth, and I don’t give a fuck. I feel like an animal wanting to ravage her. I’m out of control, and I don’t give a fuck. Because I wanna fuck. Period. There’s nothing more to it.

I throw everything off the table, not giving a shit where it ends up, as I hold her tight and kiss her deeply. I bury my tongue in her mouth, licking her with a fierceness that I’ve not experienced in a long while. With one hand I grip the soft flesh of her ass as I tease her pussy with the other, making her moan. I love the sounds she makes, and it makes me so horny that I grab her throat and push her down on the table. The frightened look in her eyes as I unbuckle my belt with one hand brings me chills, good chills. It’s such a rush; it feels like I’m on drugs as I take off the belt and wrap it around her hair like a scrunchie and then tie the belt to the table leg. I walk away and grab the kitchen wire she keeps in a drawer, and I tie them around her legs and then to the table. With her hands above her head, there’s really nowhere for her to go now. Her chest rises higher with each breath, and I can see her panicking.

“Relax, Princess,” I say, letting my finger drift down her chest. “You’re going to like this.”

She shakes her head and starts to jerk on the wires, which makes me reach for my knife. Her eyes widen at the sight of the blade lowering, touching her skin. The squeal that comes from her mouth the moment I slide it down her belly is exhilarating, almost like a climaxing to me.

“Stay still, Princess,” I say. “This won’t hurt. Much.”

“Please don’t.”

“What? Make you bleed?”

“No.”

“You’ll like it, eventually,” I muse, leaning over her. “I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t believe you,” she says with a ragged breath.

I smile. “Then I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

I use the knife as a marker, drawing a pattern without drawing blood. Her eyes anxiously follow the tip, as if she’s trying to prepare for something. The thing is that she’ll never know when it’s coming. That look on her face, priceless. So torturous, the way she’s unraveling bit by bit … it’s like food for my soul.

Sweat trickles down her skin, and then when I let the tip puncture her skin just a tiny bit, she squeals. But I know it doesn’t hurt that much. I’ve tried this on myself plenty of times. Always have to know what the things I do to my victims feel like. Of course, the fear is taking over her sense of rationalizing. She’s letting it control her instead of experiencing it for what it is. Fear is excitement. Fear is a part of our souls. Fear makes us feel alive.

And she should be grateful that she’s still alive.

It’s all in my hands. With one slice, I could kill her right here, right now. But I don’t.

Instead, I lean in and suckle the blood off her skin, kissing her softly, letting my tongue slide all across her belly.

She squirms underneath me; her body arches to meet my mouth, but her mind is still focusing on the fear.

“Stop thinking, Vanessa,” I say. “It’s not doing you any good right now.”

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“What does it look like?” I say, ripping off her skirt so I can see her pretty pussy. “I’m enjoying you to the fullest.”

“By sucking my blood?”

I frown, waving the knife in the air. “You know, you should really consider the fact that I could’ve killed you already. You might want to think about that as I gorge myself on your pussy.”

She swallows. “What’s to say that you won’t kill me now?”

I smile. “I just like seeing the fear in your eyes, Princess. Nothing more.” I bring the knife to my mouth and lick the blade. I can taste her blood, and my own, as the sharpness cuts through my own flesh, but I don’t care. I’m lost in ecstasy, living on the edge, wanting to jump off with her.

She shivers, her lips quivering as I bring the knife down to her face. “C’mon sweet cheeks, smile for me,” I say.

The right side of her lip curls up into a fake smile, which does not move me even one bit. Damn her; normally, she’s as fake as can be, able to perform without flaw, and now real emotions suddenly overcome her?

Fuck her.

I ram the knife into the table next to her head, causing her to close her eyes. “Look at me,” I say. “Open your eyes, Princess.”

They peel open slowly. “Please … Phoenix.”

“Please what? You don’t like it when I want to lick the blood from your skin? You should be flattered.”

She shakes her head.

“I don’t fucking believe you,” I snap, grabbing her pussy with one hand, which makes her jolt up. “I bet this pussy here will tell me the truth.”

“No,” she says, still shaking.

“What are you so afraid of?” I muse. “This knife? Blood? Pain? Death? What?”

“You.”

The way she says it, without any doubt, takes me by surprise, and for a moment, I don’t know what to say. I thought she’d say pain, or even death, but instead, she says something that causes my heart to shrivel up and die. At least, it feels like that. Like my heart is burning a hole in her chest. That or her eyes. Either way, I’m fucked now. I started feeling something I shouldn’t have.

I lean in to look her in the eyes. “Can’t you feel the excitement rushing through your body? The adrenaline pumping through your veins? Isn’t it so much better than the lifeless statue-like doll you’ve been these past few years?”

“I …” she stutters. “I don’t know.”

“Your heart does. And so does your pussy.” I slide my fingers along her slit, which is already warm and wet. “It craves the thrill. You crave life. Real life. Not the fake kind. The kind that could get you killed,” I whisper close to her ear. “And I’m gonna give it to you.”

I back away, leaving her eyes full of fear and doubt as I stand up straight and focus my attention on her pussy. It’s all I know, all I can think of that will make her submit. That will make her stop thinking about all the things she thinks she wants and focus on the things she really desires. Me.

It’s always been me.

She doesn’t have to say it. I can see it in her eyes. I can taste it in her fear.

She wants me … and I’m going to give her everything I have.