inside. I’ve been here so many times most people probably think I live here.
In fact, I know one of Dove’s neighbors actually thinks I do. Of course, I don’t correct her. What would be the fun in that? I use the walk upstairs to clear my mind, and by the time I reach Dove’s door, I’m a little more composed. Pulling out my phone, I check the surveillance feed in her bedroom one last time. The image confirms that she’s sound asleep, tucked nicely into her bed. Unlocking her door, I enter her apartment slowly. I’ve done this so many times it’s like riding a bike to me.
Quietly, I close the door behind me. I’m welcomed by the darkness of the apartment, feeling at home in more than one way. The dark is where I thrive and the shadows my best friend. It’s the only place I can be myself. But Dove, she is light, pure, vibrant, and innocent. My darkness threatens to taint that light, to snuff it out... and that reminder alone keeps me away, but never too far.
I’ve only taken one small step inside, but Max is right there, curling his fury body around my leg, purring loud enough to wake the dead. He, too, thinks I live here. Bending down, I pat the top of his head before shushing him away.
The soles of my shoes make little noise as I move through the house like a ghost. I know where every corner, every creak, and every piece of furniture is. I know about every window and every door, and even what’s hidden in each cupboard. I know how she likes her coffee, what her favorite books are, and what time she gets up every morning.
There isn’t one thing about Dove that I don’t know about. I know her inside and out, maybe even better than I know myself.
Standing just outside her half-open door, I clench my jaw. Her sweet scent of vanilla and sugar surrounds me. The scent stirs a deep primal need within me. One that urges me to go to her and claim her completely, without mercy or care. It slams into me, gripping me by the balls and urging me forward. I don’t want her to be mine. I need her to be mine.
Swallowing thickly, I grapple for control. The beast wanting to be set free so he can mark her. Barely containing myself, I sneak into the bedroom. There’s a tightening in my stomach when I first see her. It’s like butterflies taking flight, like riding a roller coaster. She’s lying partly on her stomach, her cheek resting against the sheets.
Dark brown locks of hair shield most of her face, and I’m forced to suppress a laugh, realizing she’s kicked most of her blanket to the edge of the bed. Parts of her are still the same, while others have changed. Drinking in the view before me, I become mesmerized by her perfect legs that lead up to a plump ass. Her firm globes are covered by a pair of sleep shorts that leave very little to the imagination. Saliva fills my mouth at the thought of parting those thighs and licking her virgin pussy, feasting on it, eating until I’ve had my fill.
Fuck, I wonder what she would taste like; if she would beg me to stop or beg me to keep going? My muscles clench, and my cock presses against the zipper of my jeans painfully. It’d be so easy to take her right now, to cover her mouth and take what I want, to sink deep inside of her and let her innocence coat my cock… Taking a step toward the bed, I almost give in to the urge, but at the last second, I pause and curl my hands into fists to stop myself from touching her.
One taste would never be enough. I could never give her up, so I’ll refuse myself while I still have the strength. Letting my gaze wander, I move to her heart-shaped face. Long lashes fanning out like crescent moons against high cheeks. Soft, pink lips that are slightly parted, and an adorable button nose. My angel.
I don’t know how long I stand staring at her, watching as her forehead wrinkles, and she rolls over, tossing her leg over a pillow.
Every inch of me is being pulled toward her, and when I can’t withstand the burn any longer, when the pain in my chest becomes too much, I pick up the blanket and