Openly stalking me

Damian’s POV

“We’ll see, doll face.” I said as I walked out of her room, going downstairs.

I only put a hand up in acknowledgement as her mom said,

“You're leaving already?”

“Take care, Mrs. Reynolds.”

I made my way out, leaving her house with the worst case of blue balls.

The moment I pulled up in the driveway of Greg's apartment, I groaned under my breath, resting my head against the steering wheel.

"Shit," I muttered, feeling for the swell of my pants.

Call me a bloody fool or anything, because I was.

I just rejected an offer that she placed on a silver platter earlier on the basis of three dates.

I've never taken a woman on a date, but here I was proposing three whole dates like I was some low-budget Hugh Grant in a rom-com trying to get the girl to fall for me.

Pathetic.

Getting out of the car, I headed up, punched in the codes, pushed the door open, and stepped in.

I technically limped to the bathroom, stripping my pants off so my little man could breathe.

Before my pants got ripped apart.

Leaning my weight against the sink, I spat into my palm, coating the wet saliva over my base and then sliding it down.

Remembering how her delicate body had felt against mine, veins protruded in my neck as I pumped myself.

She was right to think I only had sexual attraction for her. I mean I wasn’t doing a good job at hiding it in front of her.

But what she didn't know was, from the first day my dad brought her name up as a potential wife, my world shifted.

I had been at the door when I overheard this fearless dollface openly reject me and announce to her family that she's got a boyfriend she is in love with.

Honesty. Disregard for social status. She hadn't even minded that her dad's business partners were seated right at the dining table.

Clarity mattered to her.

Maybe what drew me to her was how she didn't give a fuck about the so-called hierarchy.

Who’s who or who knew who, she didn’t give a damn.

Other girls her age would drool over the opportunity to be with men like me and ditch their average boyfriends the first chance they got.

Unlike the women I used to know. Pretentious fuckers.

At that moment, I knew I'd wanted her for myself.

She was fierce. Stubborn. But I could tame her.

I let out a loud grunt as I came, bracing myself against the cold sink.

Cleaning myself up, I got into new clothes, strolling to get my phone from the nightstand as I noticed I had been ignoring the beeping for way too long.

It was Greg.

“What the hell have you been up to?” His voice rang out impatiently.

Rubbing the side of my face, I felt a strain in my right eye.

Probably from too much screen time at the office.

“Why? Did someone minor punch you in the guts again?”

“I wish. But your girl's back in that after-hour spot. You know those frat boys are hanging out here tonight.”

My eyes flew open in alarm, searching for my car keys.

“Irene?”

“Who else man? I think she's with someone.”

“A man?” I asked, hurrying to grab my car keys, blood surging through my chest like a predator preparing for a hunt.

Greg went silent on the other end.

“Come on now, don't hang up.”

Silence.

I took the phone off my ear, checking the screen to find that the call ended.

"Shit," I muttered, entering my car.

God, I wasn't a fucking stalker, but that woman was bringing out sides of me I didn't know existed.

She shouldn't be testing me like this. I warned her.

Driving with one hand, my thumb hovered over the screen of my phone as I contemplated dialing her number.

But how was I supposed to explain how I knew where she was? She already thought I was stalking her.

I thought better of it and just drove to the location.

Greg called back saying he had to attend to some VIP clients.

“Give me the exact floor she’s on. I'm driving blind here.” I told him, and he texted me the floor number.

The moment I arrived at the club, my eyes scanned the surrounding.

Ignoring the flashing neon lights across the room and the smell of alcohol and sex mixing in the air, I shouldered my way to the bar, spotting most people making out in the corners.

I wasn't new to all this. But I didn't know about Irene.

Did her ex bring her to places like this, where she was touring clubs to drink herself to death?

Was she mourning their separation?

Fuck. I wish I knew something.

I sure hoped one sleazy fucker wasn't trying to get his way with her. Taking advantage of her drunk state.

Then my eyes fell on a redhead.

She was seated at the bar, her knees tucked, her head tilted back, laughing as a blonde guy leaned in, whispering something into her ears.

My chest tightened as I walked up to them.

The fucker leaned closer, his hands reaching for her chest, and my strides increased.

One moment I was across the room, and then the next I was twisting the arm of the blonde guy while a yelp broke out from his throat.

"Arggh. What the heck!” he yelled, and I pinned his head against the counter like a cop disarming an armed criminal.

One gasp. Second gasp. And the redhead was flying out of her chair, colors draining from her face.

“Who the hell are you?” She asked in a tiny voice, and I turned to her.

Something dropped in my chest.

Shit.

It wasn't Irene. Redhead, yes, but not my dollface.

My grip on the guy loosened, and he slipped out of my hold, landing a punch against my jaw.

“Bloody idiot.” He spat, snatching the hand of the redhead and staggering out of sight as he pulled her along.

Feeling for my jaw, the bland taste of my own blood exploded in my mouth, migraine pulsing behind my eyes.

Walking out of the club, I reached for my phone in my jacket.

I was going to lecture Greg on how I’d try not to kill him for setting me up to get punched in the face the next time we saw each other.

My eyes gluing to my screen as I dialed his number, I bumped into someone.

My phone slipped out of my hand, crashing onto the floor.

"Oh, sorry. Next time. Keep those eyes up.”

With my eyes narrowing into slits, I lifted my head, looking at the guy.

His neck was roughly the size of my wrist, with glasses hanging over his hooded eyes.

Very fit for strangling.

Reacting to his words with a flat look, I picked up what was left of my phone, walking past him.

But I stopped short, my brain calculating.

He had a lady’s arm wrapped around his, didn’t he?

Drawing my brows together, I turned around and our eyes locked.

There she was.

“You're openly stalking me now?” She asked, letting out a sharp laugh.