by Coralee June
Once in the car, I pressed my forehead to the glass and tried not to let him see how frustrated I was. He drove us home, and I thought about Joel’s words. I thought about my friendship with Nicole. I thought about Hunter showing up and threatening Joel. I thought about our dance—boy, did I think about our dance.
It took us thirty minutes to get back to Uncle Mack’s house. I didn’t even bother to question Hunter when he pulled up the drive and turned off his Jeep. He got out of his car and stalked up the driveway with angry steps, not explaining himself.
I noticed that Uncle Mack’s new car wasn’t in the drive and briefly wondered where he was.
“Mack is working late,” Hunter said while walking down the hall and toward my bedroom.
I followed him in confusion. Hunter reached behind his head and took off his shirt with slow precision. I watched the tense ripple of muscle on his back in morbid fascination. I knew he was stronger than me, but why was that so alluring? I didn’t want to crave him, but we’d been doing this dance for a while now.
“You going to finish what you started?” I asked while shrugging his leather jacket off my shoulders.
“No,” he replied while looking over his shoulder at me. “We’re going to sleep.”
I balked at him. “You’re sleeping in here?”
Hunter spun around to face me, showing off each dip and groove of his abs in the process. “Yep. I am.”
“Why?” I asked incredulously as he sauntered over. Lifting his hand up, he then fingered the strap of my tank top and shoved it gracefully over my shoulder.
“I have a few reasons. I’d like to sleep without worry that you’re going to run off. I don’t particularly like the couch. I want to feel you squirming with need against my body all night. I want to smell your arousal on these sheets.”
I couldn’t fucking stand it. His words made me press my thighs together for some semblance of relief.
He grabbed the band of my jeans and tugged me closer until our bodies were flush. “Yeah, just like that,” he whispered before unbuttoning them and easing the zipper down, his knuckles grazing my cunt in a slow, torturous move that had me whimpering.
“I thought I had to control you with fear, but this works much better,” he whispered before bending to ease the thick fabric over my hips and down my legs. “You’re a physical person, Roe. And I will ruin your life with a single touch.”
I stepped out of the jeans while panting, observing Hunter as he tossed them to the other side of the room. He shrugged his own pants off and popped the band of his boxer briefs. “Let’s go to bed.”
I was stunned. Short of breath. Achy. He smirked at me before walking over to the bathroom and shutting the door. It wasn’t until I heard the sink running that I closed my mouth and took control of the situation again.
Taking off my tank, I shimmied out of my panties and let the cool air kiss my naked body. I then waited at the door for my turn in the bathroom.
Hunter took his sweet time, and every tick of the second hand, I felt more and more ridiculous, standing naked outside the bathroom door. What the fuck was I thinking? I had convinced myself that this was the worst idea ever when the bathroom door opened, and I was greeted with his smug face.
“Are you trying to entice me?” he asked with a small laugh. “Because don’t get me wrong, Pretty Debt, you have a nice body. But I think wanting you is hotter than the real deal, and I’ll happily keep my distance if it means watching you squirm.”
After a split second of wanting this infuriating man, I shoved past him to get in the bathroom. Grabbing my toothbrush, I put toothpaste on it to brush my teeth, but once again Hunter stole it from my fingers.
“Open your mouth, Pretty Debt,” he challenged.
My traitorous body did exactly as he asked. My mouth slipped open, and he beamed in triumph. Grabbing my chin with his free hand, he started brushing my teeth with gentle precision. It was such an odd, compassionate gesture, but it felt like a power play too. I was putty in his hand, but I also felt cared for. This man had me exactly where he wanted me, though, and I was wondering how I went from fighting my stalker to wanting to fuck him. What was I trying to do?
“Spit,” he demanded while pulling my hair back. I bent over the sink and did as he asked, keeping my eyes on him in the mirror’s reflection.
His eyes never went to my ass. He didn’t look at the curve of my spine or my dangling breasts as I bent. His eyes bore into mine.
Once done, I stared at the ground and brushed past him, making my way back into my bedroom and feeling more confused and conflicted. I stumbled to my dresser, but his words stopped me in my tracks.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“G-getting dressed,” my stupid, weak voice replied, though the lift at the end made it sound more like a question.
“No. Get in bed, Roe,” he ordered while motioning toward my mattress. Slumping my shoulders, I followed his command and made my way to the left side of the bed before slipping under the comforter and sheets.
The lights turned off, and I squeezed my eyes shut. It wasn’t until the mattress dipped beside me, I realized I’d have to spend an entire night vulnerable and naked with my stalker. It felt like some weird conditioning exercise. He was grooming me to want him, but I didn’t feel manipulated. I felt in control, despite it all. He wanted me. He wanted me so badly he drove to Denver in the middle of the night to pluck me from a club. He cared about my safety. He may be stronger, but I motivated his actions.
“Your thoughts are too loud for sleep, Pretty Debt,” he whispered into my ear while wrapping his arms around me. His forearm settled between my breasts, making them sensitive to the taunting idea of being played with.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he slipped his palm down, down, down my stomach. He eased his fingers between my thighs until he was cupping my pussy. My breath hitched, and I tried desperately not to squirm. The friction was just there.
“If you keep still all night, I’ll reward you in the morning,” Hunter whispered. I felt his hard cock drilling into my back. There was no way I’d be able to keep still all night. His hand was hot and already slick with my desire.
But maybe that’s what he wanted. He wanted me to fail. He wanted me to want him with no relief. Fuck that. I was in control. Using my good hand, I reached down and pressed against his. He went rigid. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t want your reward, Hunter,” I whispered before pressing once more. His fingers slipped, and I could feel it just at the edge of my entrance. “I want to get off.”
I ground against his palm, holding him in place with my other hand while whimpering into the pillow. He could have easily moved if he wanted to, but we allowed ourselves to believe the lie that I was making him do this. That he didn’t want to feel me come against his skin. That I was just a toy to fill with desire and abandon.
I was already so close, every interaction of the evening building up to this crashing, flooding orgasm. “Fuck,” I cursed while riding his palm. I moved fast and hard, whimpering and moaning with every movement as he rocked behind me.
I came hard. My entire body tensing and releasing with a force as I trembled and moaned in Hunter’s arms. Hunter froze like he couldn’t believe he lost the upper hand.
Once the roaring blood in my veins slowed to a quiet whisper and my body relaxed, I whispered to him, “Goodnight, Stalker.”
And I fell asleep, with his palm on my cunt and my cum on his fingers.
ROE
I expected the cold vacancy of my mattress to greet me the next morning. I ran my hand along the sheets, seeking his warmth and finding pleasure in his absence.
Hunter left because I scared him. I knew it deep in my gut. You didn’t run from things that comforted you. You didn’t escape things that felt easy. My mother taught me that you ran when you were scared, and Hunter was fucking horrified by the idea of being comfortable with me.
I rolled over and sat up in bed, reaching my arms ou
t with a loud yawn. My cast felt heavy, and the skin beneath it was hot and sweaty. I was so damn ready to get this thing off.
It was Friday, and I wasn’t looking forward to school. I didn’t want to see Nicole or Joel. As much as I hated to admit it, what he said last night at the club had stuck with me. I felt used.
“You smiled when you saw I wasn’t here. Why?” a voice called out against the dim morning light. I spun around and frowned at the towering, imposing figure sitting with his legs spread out in my plush gray reading chair.
“I thought you’d left,” I replied, trying to keep my cool. Why was he still here?
“And that made you happy?” Hunter asked while leaning forward. He rested his forearms on his knees, and fuck if the sleepy look didn’t make him even more devastatingly handsome.
I got out of bed, feeling the chill of the morning air brush against my naked skin. Hunter’s eyes raked over the swells of my breast. It was like I could feel his stare. “Not necessarily,” I replied. “It was more the reason that had me smiling.”
Hunter stood up and wrapped me in his arms. The move swift yet jumbled all the same, like he was at war with his desires. “And what reason do you think I have for leaving?”
I leaned up to murmur my response over the thin line of his mouth. “You’re afraid of me.”
He closed the hairline of distance between our kiss, scalding my lips with his for the briefest of seconds, not long enough for me to worry about morning breath or if we should be doing this. It was a faint blink, so quick you’d miss it if you weren’t paying attention.
“If the idea of fearing you put a smile on your face, I’d hate to see how you’d react if you knew how I was actually feeling,” he whispered before pulling away. I felt rooted to the spot, overanalyzing his words. “Get dressed. I’m taking you to school today.”
He didn’t even give me a chance to respond with snark, and he simply disappeared out of my bedroom door.
I got ready quickly, but for some reason, I took care to pick out one of my favorite tops. It curved my body graciously and was a deep shade of blue. I paired some ankle boots with my skinny gray jeans and added a couple of loose curls to my brown hair. After swiping on some mascara and chapstick, I grabbed a granola bar to eat before class and made my way outside to Hunter’s electric blue Jeep, where he was already sitting in the driver’s seat.
I wouldn’t say he was sulking, but there was a distinct contemplative expression on his face that made me pause. I didn’t want to talk about this dangerous line we were dancing along, so I kept my mouth closed as he pulled out of the drive and made his way toward my school.
I caught him looking at me from the corner of his eye numerous times. His hands gripped the steering wheel as he drove. He must have showered at our house because his hair was still wet and his face was freshly shaved. He wore dark denim and a black shirt with a skull on it. I was getting used to the dark aesthetic of his wardrobe. He dressed like his energy—doomy and broody.
I wanted to ask him what all of this meant. There wasn’t a label that felt right for us. Enemies. Friends. Lovers. I felt like I didn’t know him enough to feel the way I did. But the little bits of information I did have weighed heavily on my shoulders.
Hunter was devoted.
He was alone.
Hunter had a bad childhood.
He was obsessive. Jealous. Territorial.
He was skilled with his tongue and touch.
He didn’t just skim the surface of a person. He seemed to understand my motivations and needs—even the things I was ashamed to admit.
We were driving along, me with my head resting against the passenger window when I saw Mrs. Sellars huffing on the sidewalk, headed toward the school. She wore a large purple coat wrapped tightly around her frail body, and her cheeks were rosy from exertion. “Stop the Jeep!” I shouted.
Hunter took three seconds to peer outside, and the moment his gaze landed on my favorite English teacher, he stopped. I found myself feeling briefly thankful for my stalker because I didn’t have to explain who she was or why I was concerned that she was walking in the cold, three miles to school.
“Check on her. See if she needs a ride,” Hunter said with a sigh before putting the car in park.
I peered at him. “Promise you won’t go all crazy on my English teacher? I like her.”
Hunter rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to murder Mrs. Sellars. She cracks me up. Last week, she told a boy off because he was snoring in class.”
“It’s so weird that you watch me in class.”
“Why don’t you worry about Mrs. Sellars, and we can discuss how crazy you think I am another time, hmm?” Hunter replied sarcastically. I was about to tell him that it would take an entire team of experts to understand his fucked up personality but stopped myself.
Rolling down the window, I called out to my teacher. “Mrs. Sellars, are you alright?”
She stopped her brisk walk and greeted me with that spunky smile I loved. “Hello, Miss Palmer. How are you today?”
“Are you walking to school? Is everything okay?” I asked her.
Mrs. Sellars marched up to the car and rested on the passenger door while catching her breath. Her gray eyes flickered to Hunter, then back to me. “Would you believe my old Buick died? I would have called an Uber—is that what they’re calling taxis these days? I couldn’t find a telephone number for it in the phonebook. I figured a good walk would do my old body good, but...” She looked in the backseat of the Jeep and smiled wickedly. “I see you have two perfectly good vacant seats, and we’re both headed to the same place. Why don’t you give me a ride, and I’ll tell you what I thought of your last poetry submission, yes?” she asked. I cracked a smile at the unabashed way she invited herself without even greeting Hunter. She simply opened the door and lifted herself inside the Jeep, which was not an easy task considering how lifted this off-roading monstrosity was.
“Hello,” she finally said to Hunter once she was settled inside. “I’m Mrs. Sellars, Roe’s favorite teacher. And you are?”
Hunter bit the inside of his cheek, then put on his public approval face, flashing her a smile in the rearview mirror before putting the car back in drive and merging onto the street. “I’m Hunter, a friend of Roe’s uncle. I’m taking her to school since he had to go to work early this morning.”
“I really should call Mack,” Mrs. Sellars said while rifling through her briefcase. “Roe needs to get her license. Especially if she’s going off to college next year.”
Hunter gave me a look out of the corner of his eye that suggested he hadn’t even thought of college. I guess in some ways, he felt like I’d always be this girl he felt responsible for. But we both knew that wasn’t the case anymore, and the reality of my future was at our feet. I just didn’t know if he’d let me go. And with our developing...thing...I wasn’t sure how easily I’d leave.
“If you need someone to teach you, I’ll have some time once the Buick is fixed, dear. Just let me know.”
“I’ll teach her,” Hunter said in a low voice before switching lanes and hitting his accelerator just a bit too aggressively. I was twisted in my seat, alternating my gaze between Mrs. Sellars and Hunter. My wry teacher was currently squinting at our chauffeur as if trying to figure him out.
“Look at that, Miss Palmer. You’ve got an entire team of people willing to show you how to drive. Who are you again?” she asked Hunter.
“Just a friend, Mrs. Sellars,” he replied smoothly, her name too familiar on his tongue. Was this how he was with me? Did he assume familiarity because he watched me my entire life? The label “friend” felt hollow for what we were but seemed to appease my teacher. Shaking her head, Mrs. Sellars continued digging through her briefcase until she pulled out a few brochures.
“I found a few colleges I’d like you to apply to. They have wonderful creative writing programs and are well-rounded with their offerings if you decide to go another route. But with your skill level, I re
ally hope you take a creative writing plan. Your last poem was powerful, Roe. Deeply powerful.”
My mouth dropped open in shock. Maybe picking up Mrs. Sellars was a bad idea. “I wasn’t planning on attending college—”
“Nonsense,” she interrupted. “You have decent grades. What were you planning on doing? Staying here for the rest of your life?” she asked with a scoff, like settling down in the suburbs of Denver was the worst thing that could happen to a person. I found her reaction ironic, considering she’d lived here her whole life.
“You’re going places, dear. I want you to see the world. I want you to grab life by the balls and find something to be passionate about.”
I cautiously looked at Hunter. His eyes were void of all emotion, and his lips were pursed.
“Can we go over your poem now?”
“Uh...”
She pulled out a sheet of printer paper and cleared her throat. When she started speaking my words, a chill traveled down my spine. My poems were always little whispers in the back of my mind. It almost felt intrusive to hear someone else read it out loud:
Trapped by Roe Palmer.
I see you there, strung up with silk.
Struggling against cloud restraints.
Drowning in that open air.
I see you there, choking on your words.
Like rocks lodged in your throat.
Saying NO feels a lot like dying,
I suppose.
I see you there, held down by your fears.
Chained to death. Crying with glass in your palm.
Girl in the mirror. She looks like me. She cries like me.
She’s trapped like me.
Hunter pulled into the school parking lot as Mrs. Sellars let out a low whistle. “The concept of this is excellent, Roe. I like your imagery here and the play on words. She’s not trapped. I think stylistically the same line for each stanza works, but I want to work on the flow of the second and third lines, they feel a little disjointed. Come see me at lunch, and we’ll fix it, okay?”
