Stalker - Clarissa Wild Page 0,34

that my body lowers itself, leaning closer to his cock. The spurts keep coming as he aims for my face, surprising me with cum.

“Open that pretty mouth of yours,” he says, roughly pulling on my nipple.

His cum shoots into my mouth, making me gag as it drips from the roof of my mouth onto my tongue. I can taste his saltiness as he squirts it all over my face and my mouth. Five spurts, and then he’s finally spent, and I’m covered in his seed.

Panting, he slaps my breast, making me squeal. “Swallow it.”

I make a face, which makes his eyes go from pleased into complete burning rage. “Do it!”

I don’t think twice, swallowing his cum down, further prolonging the taste in my mouth. And the worst part of it all is that I don’t mind tasting him. He tastes just like he used to, just how I liked it. Goddammit.

“Good Princess,” he muses with a smile like the devil himself.

He wipes the remaining cum from his cock on my cheek and gets up on his feet. I feel disgusting, dirty, and worst of all, more humiliated than I’ve ever felt. I guess that’s what he wanted all along.

He walks back to the chair and puts his jeans back on, tucking everything in as if nothing ever happened. And I’m sitting here with my ripped dress and his stickiness slapped all over my face and breasts.

When he walks toward the door, I say, “Where are you going?”

He briefly glances over his shoulder. “You’d like to know that … wouldn’t you?”

God, I hate him for mocking me, which is why he’s doing it in the first place. And, dammit, it’s working because I’m pissed off.

“You can’t leave me,” I say. “Not like this.”

“Hmm … why? Can’t handle a little cum?” he says, opening the door.

“I’m filthy,” I say.

“Exactly,” he says, the smirk still visible on his face. “Not so pretty anymore, are you? Now you’re just as filthy as me.”

And then he slams the door closed behind him.

CHAPTER 11

PHOENIX

Age 13

“What’s that filth doing here?”

I hear her screeching voice before I see her, but when she pushes past the housekeeper to see who’s standing in front of her door, I finally get to see the wicked witch, as Vanessa calls her. Vanessa’s mother stares down at me with chapped, pursed lips, her frown so tight I expect it to be permanent. I wonder if she’s ever not grumpy. I understand the nickname now.

“What are you doing here?” she asks again, this time in an even more condescending tone.

“It’s Vanessa’s birthday, isn’t it?” I say, smiling politely. I already hate this woman just because of the way she talks to me, but I want to be nice for Vanessa’s sake.

“So?” she says, blocking the doorway as if she’s afraid I might run in.

“I have a present,” I say, holding it up for her to see.

Her lips rise a little, like a dog sniffing something they despise. The housekeeper takes it after Vanessa’s mother refuses to budge. “I’ll give it to her.”

“Don’t call her,” the mother says to the housekeeper, who turns on her heels and walks inside.

I frown. “Can’t I come inside? I want to wish her a happy birthday.”

Vanessa’s mother holds onto the door with her French manicured nails. “Vanessa is busy.”

When she tries to close the door, I say, “Wait,” and put my foot in to block her.

I didn’t think the wicked witch could look any more terrifying than she already did, but I was wrong. “What are you doing?”

“Vanessa!” I call out.

“No!” the mother says. “I said she’s busy, and you’re not invited.”

“But it’s her birthday and I want to give her my present!” I say.

I hear footsteps coming down the staircase, and for a second, I spot a bright smile in the corner, just behind her mother. It’s her. In a sky blue, sparkly dress, she walks down the hallway toward me. However, the moment she sets her eyes on me, they turn gloomy and her smile dissipates like the sun on a cloudy day.

“Thank you for your gift. Now go,” her mother says, shoving me forward, and then she slams the door shut. I barely manage to save my own foot, but I can still hear her mutter, “filthy boy.”

I should’ve known this would happen. Of course, it did. They all respond the same way when they meet me. I’m the boy who doesn’t have parents and whose foster parents don’t like him. They only wanted me for