Gone - Anna Brooks Page 0,5

that, and I’d have a… conversation with the guy, but since my guts are all twisted up because of her, I fucked up. I didn’t want to scare her away by giving her a hint of how obsessed with her I am.

I didn’t appreciate his hands on her. Not one fuckin’ bit. Not just because she clearly doesn’t like the guy, but because seeing another man touch her is enough to drive me mad.

I don’t even know her. I could easily search her on the database, but I’m fully aware of exactly the kind of man I am. If I start discovering more about her, I won’t be able to stop myself. I’ll keep digging and digging until I know absolutely everything there is to know about her, and that’s some next-level stalking shit that’s totally not cool.

As of right now, her first name, the kind of car she drives, and where she works is the only information I have on her, and simply knowing those few things has me infatuated with her enough. Never in my life have I felt about someone the way I do about her. Let alone someone I barely even know. Though it’s almost like I already know everything about her on a different level.

At one point, I thought I was in love with a woman I’d known since I was a teenager. I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with her, but it turns out, I really didn’t know who she was at all. She fucked me over so badly that I haven’t even been close to the same guy I was since it happened. I hate her for what she did, but mostly I hate her for what she made me become.

What I feel when I see Izzy, when I think about her, is deeper than anything I’ve ever experienced. The one thing keeping me from making her mine is the thought of what she could do to me if I started something with her and then find out she wasn’t who I think she is.

My mind is too messed up to sleep right now, so I walk down the hallway to my weight room and crank on some music. The beat gets me pumped up, and I skip a warm-up and go straight for the bench press. Lying on my back, I lift a little under four hundred pounds, grunting and growling with every push. I’m taking out my frustration on my body, especially by denying my dick its release by not sinking into what I just know would be the tight, slick heat of Izzy’s pussy.

I have no right to feel any way about her, but the more I try to push these possessive thoughts and feelings away, the worse it becomes. And the harder my dick gets.

I don’t know how much time passes, but the sun starts to rise, and I finish my grueling workout covered in sweat with my muscles shaky. When I catch my breath, I head to the shower where I give in to the perpetually dirty thoughts I have of Izzy. Like I do pretty much every time I step behind the curtain.

Seizing my cock, I tighten my fist so hard it’s almost painful. Resting one hand on the wall, I drop my head and blink water out of my eyes, imagining Izzy right here with me. Down on her knees, moaning, with her lips stretching around my dick.

When she strokes me, she’d have to use both hands because they’re so tiny. I bet the rest of her is, too. Her pussy would probably grip me like a vise… She’d be the tightest I’d ever have. The wettest. Sweetest. My knees buckle at the thought of sinking inside her, and a growl tears up my throat at the pressure of my balls exploding. “Fuck.” I come harder simply thinking about her than I ever have with a woman beneath me. I pump my cock slower as I shoot my orgasm against the tile. Squeezing the last of my seed out, I’m still picturing her below me, wondering if she swallows, but fantasizing she takes it all without wasting a drop.

I don’t know how much longer I can wait before I give in to her.

If someone asked me why I haven’t claimed her yet, I don’t even know what I’d tell them because the reason I try to bullshit myself with is just that—shit. Having sweet Izzy is a beautiful thought, and