His Dark Obsession

Chapter 11: Her.

"Do you think this one would look good with the black?" Maisie asks as she holds up a red top.

We've been shopping for what feels like years, realistically it's been 25 minutes, but I'm already bored. I much prefer shopping online in the peace of my own home and not getting over stimulated by the sounds of kids screaming and too many voices talking at once. I get it's better for trying stuff on, but I'd much rather take the risk and shop from the comfort of my bed.

My chin rests in my hand as I sit on one of the green plush stools by the shoes, and I glance at Maisie in the mirror, "Yeah looks nice."

She drops her head back and turns to look at me, a clear irritated look on her face, "You've said that about the last 4 tops I've showed you. At least try and look like you're enjoying yourself," she retorts.

I let out a sigh and smile lightly, "I'm sorry. You know what I'm like with shopping."

"Fine," she puts the top she had back on a rack then grabs my wrist gently and pulls me up, "Come on. We're going to find you a sexy dress or something," she says as she drags me to a different part of the shop.

I groan as I'm pulled past rails of clothes, "Why do I need a dress?" I question.

She scoffs, "Everyone needs a new dress. It's like, the best kind of therapy."

I raise an eyebrow and smirk teasingly, "You saying I need therapy?"

Maisie stops abruptly and faces me to answer, "Honestly, yes," then turns and walks again.

Cheeky bitch. Although I know she's right. I have mummy and daddy issues, abandonment and attachment issues, and can't stop thinking about a man that is stalking me and invading every inch of my privacy illegally. Yeah, I'm still thinking of him. I don't even know what his name is, I've never thought to ask. If his name is something like Gary or Peter, I might actually jump off a cliff. I could not imagine screaming either one of them during on orgasm, although I shouldn't even be thinking of screaming his name unless it's to the police as they arrest him. I'm so fucked, but I literally can't get him out my head. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't make myself cum last night to the thought of him fucking me ruthlessly. And the night before. He's just so goddamn sexy it shouldn't be allowed. Just remembering his biceps bulging through his hoodie, how broad he is and how he towers over me and makes me feel so small and fragile. I fucking love it. Most of all, I miss the feeling of his lips. That kiss was something I've never felt before, the sparks and the passion. His lips felt so soft, so addictive.

It's been 5 days since he stopped by for a fucking tea, scared the shit out of me, got me dripping wet with words then left after a phone call. I haven't heard from him since; I haven't seen him, not even standing outside in the shadows. He hasn't messaged me or left any roses.

I miss him.

Maisie and I reach a rack of dresses and she starts looking through them with all her concentration. My eyes drift over the dresses, but I still have zero interest in being here. Honestly at this point I'm debating what I want to eat when I get home.

That is until all my thoughts are interrupted when my eyes lock with a familiar pair of ice blue pupils. 

He's there, on the other side of the shop.

A smirk spreads across his face, and my body goes limp causing my phone in my hand to drop to the floor. 

I jump as it crashes, and Maisie shoots her head to me, "You alright?"

I stumble as I bend down to pick it up, "Y-yeah," I stutter.

When I stand back up and look in his direction, he's gone.