by Kalpana Kali
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PREGNANT FOR MY STALKER:
STORY BUNDLE 1
Kalpana Kali
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Copyright 2015 by Kalpana Kali. All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written consent of the publisher. (Exceptions for reviews and education purposes. And if you are using it for education purposes, we really want to know what class that is.)
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons is coincidence.
CONTENTS
SOPHIE’S SUBMISSION
DARCIE’S DARK ROMANCE
BETH AND THE BILLIONAIRE
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PREGNANT FOR MY STALKER 1:
SOPHIE’S SUBMISSION
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The man watching from the shadows had gray eyes.
Sophie could not tell much more than that. He was tall and seemed to meld with the corners and recesses in which she caught brief glimpses of him from time to time.
Six weeks now she had lived this.
Sophie wondered how dangerous he was. No harmless man would be this obsessed about her.
What did he want!?
Tonight she was in Le Cafe Rouge, sitting in the best-lit spot because she wanted everyone to see her. To notice her in case something happened and she needed help.
He was in the alley opposite, his hooded dark red jacket not quite hiding him against the brick wall. Sophie didn’t think he wanted to be hidden.
“Excuse me,” said a barista at her side, “are you Sophia?”
She looked up at him, puzzled. “Sophie. Why?”
“Your friend left your phone for you. He said I should give it to you when you came in.” The young man pointed at the neckline of her business casual blouse. “He described you perfectly, right down to that diamond pendant.”
“That can’t be right. I have my phone with—”
But the busy barista simply left the phone and went back behind the counter. The phone was a generic smart phone—white with black trim. There were probably a dozen like it in the cafe right then.
It rang.
Sophie gasped and rocked back in her chair. The ring tone was that old song about strangers in the night. On the caller ID were the words, ‘Answer me, Sophia.’
She nervously licked her suddenly dry lips and wiped a hand across her forehead. The command in the words on screen gave her a shivering sense of obedience. Normally, Sophie would be too level-headed to get involved in this kind of weirdness, but now she had an itch to comply. It was as if her stalker’s campaign had established his right to tell her what to do.
She pressed the green button, then took a breath and stared at it for a second, working up her courage. “Hello,” she finally answered, “Who is this?”
“You know who this is.” The voice was calm, with a masculine edge of steel running through it.
Sophie looked over at the alley. No one was visible. But in the dark, who was to say what that alley held?
“What do you want?” she said into the phone, fingering her pendant—a $5000 gift from her fiance.
“There’s a door near the back of the cafe,” the firm voice said. “The writing on it says ‘Staff Only.’ Go through it and—”
“You can’t just order me to go where you want.”
“Go through it and take the stairs. Turn left at the top and exit the building.”
The line went dead. Was this a joke?
No. That voice was dead serious. And its commanding tone was almost hypnotic in the way it made Sophie want to please its owner by doing as the man said. But he could be setting her up for murder or worse.
She hesitated and found that unbearable. Sophie knew the man on the other end would not be patient. “OK,” she messaged him. “I’m going. But I’m letting my friend Janice know where I am. Don’t try anything funny.”
As she walked to the back, looking around, Sophie dialed her best friend.
“Hey, Sophie.”
“Janice, listen. Something’s happened with that guy. The one with the hoodie.”
“He spoke to you?!” asked Janice.
“Kind of. He called me in Cafe Rouge and gave me these weird instructions to go somewhere.”
“Oh my God, did you call John?”
“No, he’s got a church thing tonight.”
“Don’t move. I’ll be right over and—”
“I’m already going,” said Sophie, halfway up the dark stairs.
“You can’t do that. The police don’t know who this guy is. If anything happens we won’t know where you are.”
“It’s upstairs of the cafe. Not far. I don’t think he’s going to hurt me. Not really.”
“Not really? Are you listening to yourself?”
“I have to go, Janice. I’ll call you in fifteen minutes to let you know what’s happening.”
There was a wide double door cracked open to the left. Sophie rubbed her fingers together and then pushed it open. A garden terrace revealed itself. In the summer air the plants were vibrant even with just the faint light of a few lanterns at the corners. Within the space were a half dozen unoccupied tables. A stone rail ran around the outside and the man in the hood sat on it with a knee drawn up.
The combination was strange: he exuded a dangerous aura, but the cocky pose made him seem youthful and playful. He hopped down and said, “My darling, Sophia. I am glad you came.” He indicated one of the tables where two cups of coffee sat.
“My name is Sophie.”
“No, Sophia is a much better name for you. It’s more musical.”
Weirder and weirder.
Cautiously, Sophie circled the table. “This is a cappuccino with strawberries and nutmeg. How do you know what I drink? How did you even get this up here?”
Sophie’s stalker sat and pulled his hood back. His hair was gloriously blond. His face showed the transition between an impish youth and a thoughtful, mature man, with a touch of dimples and penetrating eyes. “Sit, Sophia.”
She did as he bid, looking at her coffee. What if it’s drugged? She could see herself waking up somewhere tied up and chained. No thanks.
But why was she feeling goosebumps of pleasure at the image of being bound by this man? Why was her crotch getting wet at this whole situation?
“Here’s your phone back,” she said.
The stalker took it and sipped from his cup while looking at her, amused.
Not wanting to be a coward, Sophie drank, swallowing too much and burning her throat.
“So who are you?” she asked. “Don’t I get a name at least?”
“I can’t tell you my name. And who I am is not important.”
“I have to call you something,” said Sophie, examining his handsome face for clues.
“Call me Eros.”
“Eros?”
“You’re a smart girl, Sophia. Surely you remember the story of Eros and Psyche.”
“Sure. He married her and visited her only at night to make love to her, all without her ever seeing his face or knowing who he was.”
“Putting that art history degree to good use I see.”
“How do you know all this about me? My pendant, my education, what coffee I drink...It’s fucking scary. I mean what do you want from me?”
“A child. I will father a chi
ld with you, Sophia.”
“A what? You don’t even know me and you want to have a kid with me?”
“I think I’ve proven that I know you quite well.”
“It’s not the same—”
Eros held up a finger, the certainty and command in his body language making Sophie fall silent. He said, “Ever since the moment I first saw you, I have loved you. You are the perfect woman, fit for a king and certainly fit to be mother to my children.”
Children now? This guy had some serious confidence. Not at all misplaced of course. He had a seductively forceful way about him, like reality meant nothing compared to his desires.
“You stalk me for six weeks and now suddenly you set up a rooftop rendezvous and drop demands on me?”
“I had to be sure of the timing. Tonight, you’re ovulating.”
She stared at him in shock. She was awed by his dedication to knowing her and creeped out at the idea of him spying on her most personal matters.
For the first time that night, Sophie felt unsafe in a concrete way. She said, “You understand I have a boyfriend, right? A fiance. We’re getting married in two mon—”
“Yes, September fourth. But John doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t appreciate you. All this time you’ve been together and he has not even bedded you.”
“He’s religious, okay?” said Sophie, defensive because she was herself frustrated by John’s constant excuses about why it would be wrong for them to ‘fornicate.’ Then she looked at Eros, admiring his tumbled hair and deep eyes, features so contradictory and yet each capturing the sincerity in him—the yearning she could tell he had for her. Sophie could not help but be affected by that honest admiration but she could not let flattery sway her. She said, “Telling me nice things makes me feel good, but it doesn’t take much of an effort. Why are you more deserving than John?”
“Because, unlike John, I have been honest with you.”
“Yeah, honest about your intent to turn me into your personal baby factory. Forget about it.” She rose to leave.
Her stalker pounced on her, pinning her into her seat and tilting the chair in his surprisingly strong grip. Sophie was too afraid of tumbling out to fight back as she looked up into his frenzied eyes.
He snarled out. “There is no forgetting anything about you, Sophia. You seduced me. You came and displayed your loveliness before me.”
“I didn’t even know you.”
“No. And yet you flaunted the nubile fertility of your body, swaying your hips to show how eager you were for the right man to take you for himself. Tossing your dark hair so seductively to encourage me to follow you. I cannot be denied, Sophia.”
“My name is not Sophia, you maniac. It’s Sophie.”
The wildly handsome man leaned down and kissed her full on the mouth. His hand rose to her right breast and cupped it as he forced his tongue into her.
Sophie could not help it: her thighs trembled and the insides of her pussy ached with an erotic thrill. Some part of her was actually enjoying this. His touch was reaching places in her she had never known existed, where a dark and shameful urge resided—to wantonly surrender herself to the virility of an indomitable man.
But the surface of her mind still functioned and Sophie pushed Eros away. He did not budge, but lifted his head and looked at her hands striving in vain to move his muscled body.
His eyes settled into a calm. Eros set her chair back on the floor and stood. He said, “You will always be my Sophia, but you are not ready yet. I had suspected so. When you understand the reality of your situation, I shall come to you.” He walked to the fire escape at the far rail, leaving Sophie breathless and stunned. She had heard that ovulating women got hornier. Maybe that explained why she was on the verge of begging her stalker to come back and rape her right there on the cold floor of the balcony.
“Never fear,” said Eros. “I won’t be far away.”
You not being far away is exactly what I’m afraid of.
But her stalker was gone, having hopped over the edge and into the night.
***
“So let me get this straight,” said Janice over the phone. “He’s handsome, sexy and totally in love with you?”
“No. I said crazy and in love with me. Emphasis on the crazy.”
“Shit, girl, I say give it a whirl see.”
Sophie shook her head at Janice. First, her friend was fearful, now she was reckless. Just because a hot guy was involved. What Sophie should do is tell Janice off and remind her that John was still her man. But Sophie was constantly thinking back to the strange encounter, recalling the shape of her stalker’s face or the way he stood next to her like a predator and protector all in one.
Finally, she said, “Look, Janice, I have to go. I’m at the car. Just don’t worry about me. I’m safe.”
The half an hour it took to get to her apartment was full of lustful squirming. And confusion. Her stalker found her so beautiful and sexy that he followed her everywhere, yet John acted like waiting for sex was no sweat. Sophie understood that religion was important to him, but if she wasn’t enough to inspire him to break his rules, then how sexy could he really think she was?
She took an early exit from the highway and drove to John’s building instead. Tonight was the night. Maybe she was just supercharged from all that baby talk. Maybe it was ovulation hormones. But John was going to fuck her tonight. Sophie was supposed to start birth control next month, before the wedding, but she had a condom in her purse that her mother had given her ‘just in case’.
There was no answer when she called John’s phone on the elevator ride up. He was still at church then. She’d let herself in with the key he had given her and wait. Maybe she could set up a surprise with a bubble bath or some wine. As she opened the door, she thought she might even have time to cook. She could get oysters. Those were supposed to make a man want—
John was on the carpet, enthusiastically fucking a life-sized plastic doll while moaning, “Oh, Kazumi. Take me, Kazumi-chan, take me!”
“What the Hell is this?” Sophie shouted.
John, leapt up, the doll stuck to his cock. He fought the inflatable head down as he said, “Sophie! What are you doing here. I told—”
“You faked a church meeting so you could have a date night with a sex doll?”
“It’s just like a jerking off thing, you know? I’m not cheating or anything.” He turned to find his shorts, giving Sophie a view of his skinny ass.
“You know what?” said Sophie. “Forget it. Forget all of it. I’m done with you, John.” She pointed at ‘Kazumi’ and shrugged in annoyance. “Even if you’re not cheating on me. This is just a sign of how screwed up your priorities are. You could have me live and in the flesh and instead you’re sticking your dick in a plastic tube to make God happy.”
John had struggled into his shorts by now and tried to keep Sophie from heading to the door. She slapped his hand away and said, “I don’t want to ever see you again.”
Right before she got into the car, Sophie blocked John’s number. She made the ten-minute drive home in five, screeching to a halt in front of her building. Angrily, she punched the elevator key for 4.
Her apartment was dark. Candles flickered on the various shelves and her stalker sat perched on her window near the fire escape.
“You really should drive more carefully, Sophia. I’m afraid you might—”
She covered the distance to him in a micro second and slapped him across the face. “You knew!” she said. “You set me up. That’s why you said John wasn’t being honest. And that was John’s phone you gave me in the cafe too. You stole it so he wouldn’t know I was coming.”
Instead of anger, Eros looked up at her with only admiration as he rubbed his cheek. “You figured it out faster than I’d expected.” He looked her body up and down. “Our kids are going to be so smart.”
“Oh, God damn you and your kids. You can’t play games with my life!”
“I don’t play games.�
�� Suddenly the scary part of him was back, his voice like cold steel. The stalker grabbed her wrist and twisted her close to him. He said slowly into her ear, “You are mine. He never had any right to you and I simply removed him from your life.”
Then he pushed her away and she landed in the couch.
He walked over to the bottle of wine he had chilling in ice on the center table. “Tell me you’re not happier now without him. Tell me you weren’t happier the moment you broke it off with him.”
“That doesn’t make you the man I should—”
“No, it doesn’t.” The tall stranger uncorked the bottle with a pop. “It’s just grape juice by the way. I wouldn’t want any alcohol to mess up the conception.”
“There isn’t going to be any conception. You’re not sleeping with me.”
Eros held out a glass to her. “What makes me the man for you is the fact that you felt it when you met me.”
Sophie took the glass. If he’d wanted to drug her, the stalker would have done it with the coffee she reasoned. She drank a bit and said, “I don’t deny I find you attractive. You’re obviously sexy, but there are sexy guys everywhere.”
“When I told you that I wanted you to bear my child, your eyes sparkled. And it’s not just my imagination. The baby-wear catalogs you have everywhere...you justify it by saying you’re buying gifts for your pregnant friends, but you have only one pregnant friend, Sophia.”
“Two,” said Sophie, as if that small increase made a difference to her self-deceit. “Janice isn’t showing yet, but—”
“Janice had a miscarriage. She’s hiding it well and acting light-hearted like she usually does.”
“Oh, God,” said Sophie, looking at her drink. “That poor girl.”
Eros sat next to her. He stroked her arm sympathetically. “The gift of fertility is precious, sweet Sophia. We who can create life are blessed. We cannot turn our backs on that role lightly.”
She looked at him, his almost furious intensity tamed for the moment by his tender expression in the soft glow of the candles. But Sophie was not fooled by the conversation they were having like old friends catching up. He was holding her prisoner here. Oh, she could run and she could even get him to leave her alone tonight, but he had stalked her for six weeks, digesting the details of her life. He wasn’t going to give up.
