Stalk Me

Sunday, August 14th

Explode with desire.

7:30am

I get woken up by Brooklyn, who is pushing on my shoulder.

“Ummm,” I say, tossing the covers up over my head. “I need a minute.”

And oh, my gosh, do I.

I close my eyes and will myself to go back to the dream I was having.

I was dancing in the club with the English boy. I could see Brooklyn still sitting at his table, looking bored and irritated, when I felt a pair of familiar hands on my hips and turned around to face Cush. Cush gave me his naughty grin and started dancing with me. He never even said a word. We just danced. I had danced with the English boy most of the rest of the night and he was adorable, but he didn’t make me hot. Like, I never felt attracted to him. I just assumed it was because I’m in love with Brooklyn. I mean, I shouldn’t be attracted to anyone else ever again.

But in my dream, Cush’s hands felt so good on my body. First his hands were on my back. Then they trailed down my arms. Then he pulled my ass in close to him and put his leg between mine. I was grinding on his leg and was as close to his body as I could possibly get. My hands were low on his back, practically begging him to get closer. But it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t get him close enough, and all I could think about was getting him into bed.

When he put his mouth on my neck and slowly sucked on my skin, I felt like I might explode with desire. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything or anyone more. His tongue slowly slid up my neck, and I could feel his warm breath on my ear. “I can’t wait,” he whispered into my ear.

Then the club faded away, and we were outside in an alley. He pushed me up against a brick wall, reached under my skirt, and ripped a hole in my pantyhose. Then he pushed my panties aside and was inside me before I could even take a breath. I never once worried about anyone seeing us in the alley and, as turned on as I was, I’m pretty sure I didn’t care.

My insides are still throbbing.

I relive the dream in my head over and over. The way I was grinding on his leg. The way he dragged me into the alley. The sound it made when he ripped my hose. The ravenous way he was kissing me.

“Keatyn, you’ve got to get up. We have a flight to catch and you’re not even packed,” Brooklyn says loudly.

I open my eyes and look at the clock.

I am beyond horny.

“We have plenty of time, B.” I give him what I hope is my sexiest smile. I also sort of pull my tank top down so that one of my boobs is exposed. “Come here.”

He plops down on the bed next to me, which is exactly what I hoped for. I wrap my arms around his neck and immediately attack his neck with kisses.

“What are you doing?” he says.

“Just saying morning,” I whisper, in between sucking my way down his neck.

I reach for his pants, but he pushes my hand away. “Don’t. We don’t have time for that.”

“There’s always time for that,” I say, as I attempt to unzip them.

“Keatyn, stop screwing around. Get up and get packed.” He quickly gets off the bed.

We had sex almost every afternoon at the beach. Lately, it’s dwindled to about once a week. And it’s been over a week.

Since the last thing I want to do is start another fight, I get up as he requested. But then I strip off my clothes, grab one of my suitcases, and lay it across the bed.

Naked packing. Surely that will get to him.

I walk back and forth from the closet to my bed throwing clothes into my bag.

Brooklyn is watching me, but he looks irritated by my nakedness, not the least bit happy or turned on.

By the time I’m done packing, I’m pissed. I throw my three suitcases in front of the door and turn my back on him.

“You know, you used to be fun,” I say. Then I go in the bathroom, curl every strand of my hair, and put on all my makeup.

Fuck it.

Tuesday, August 16th

So this summer was amazing…

7pm

Brooklyn was snarly the first half of the trip home, so I just stuck my nose in a book and read. Then I crashed. When I woke up, he pulled me into his arms and started talking like nothing had happened. Like we hadn’t fought.

He never apologized for being a jerk. Well, actually, I guess he did, but then he followed it up with the slam about my luggage, which pretty much negated the apology. But then he kissed me sweetly and told me he loved me, and I pushed it all out of my mind.

He asked me to go to di

“You look really nice,” I tell him. And he does. His light brown hair has been trimmed, taming his curls. His face is tan and handsome, and his eyes look super blue. “Why are you all dressed up? I thought we were just grabbing some di

“We’re celebrating. You better go change.” He gives me a devious little smirk. Like he knows a secret.

“What are we celebrating?”

“Since when have you ever turned down the chance to get dressed up?”

I laugh. “Probably never.”

He grabs my hand and leads me back to my bedroom and into my closet. “You sit. I’m going to pick something out.”

I don’t sit. I stand close to him. Look into his eyes. Knock on his head. “He looks like my Brooklyn, but I don’t think it’s really him. It’s like aliens swapped his brain for someone else’s.”

He pulls me in for a kiss. Then he walks me backward toward my chair and makes me sit.

“I thought you’d like this.”

“Oh, I do. That doesn’t mean I’m not shocked.”

He looks around my closet. “You have a hell of a lot of clothes.”

“Um, maybe?”

“Point me toward the dresses.”

 I point to a long rack behind him. “The casual ones are there. The formal ones are behind the tall cabinet doors.”

He starts flipping through the rack of casual dresses. “A lot of these still have the tags on them.”

“Yeah, well, I bought some summer stuff, but then I wasn’t home all summer. Pick something with a tag, please. I feel like wearing something new.”

He pulls out a really short black Chantilly lace dress. One that I’m shocked he would want me to wear. I bought it for the club. “Put this on.”

“Um, okay. It’s kinda tight. Short.”

He grins. “Yes, that’s why I like it.”

“You’re acting weird. I’m scared.”

I strip off my clothes, switch bras, and pull the dress over my curves. “Told you. It’s tight.”

He stands back, sizing me up. Then he grabs my hips and runs his hands across my ass.

“It’s been a while,” I say. I’m kinda embarrassed to say that we haven’t had sex in almost two weeks. We were too busy fighting.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I was a dick. I was just stressed with some other stuff that was going on with my dad.” He waves his hand dismissively. “I’ll tell you all about it at di

I grab a pair of copper-colored high-heeled sandals and then stop in front of my jewelry drawers, where I grab a big black ring and a rose quartz bracelet to class it up a little.

We walk out my front door, and I’m shocked to see his dad’s Bentley sitting in the driveway.

I feel like I just stepped into the Twilight Zone.

He opens the door for me, I slide in, and we drive up the coast.

He takes me to a very nice restaurant on the water—one of my absolute favorites, and the kind of expensive place that he usually avoids.