Sick Bastard by Jaci J Page B

another extreme gone too far just to see the woman who hates me. I had to have an excuse to wander around campus, and a large donation gave me just the excuse I needed. Ms. Jones strikes me as a lonely and desperate woman as I watch her shamelessly do shit like leaning over in front of me at every available opportunity, bending over for unimportant items. She even had a problem with the heat that required the opening of a few buttons on her blouse. Hell, she’s one step away from palming my dick through my pants, but I’ve got nothing for her. My interest is elsewhere.
    I’ve made it through various departments; Science, English, Math, and all with a fucking smile on my face. I went through it all, just for one chance run-in, yet there’s nothing about this meeting that’s chance. It’s all been orchestrated on my part, doing what I have to do to get what I want. I’m not above extremely ridiculous tactics to get it, either.
    We’re on to the library now and I’ll be damned, I can feel her here. My heart’s in my goddamn throat at the thought of seeing her. I feel like a prepubescent boy on his first date. I hate it.
    My world stops when I round that corner. The only thing I can see is London. Her head is down and in a book, long silky hair falling all around her. Sitting in the dim light of the library, she looks like a fucking angel. It’s not right that she looks even more beautiful without a stitch of war paint on. She’s fucking breath stealing, body heating, and heart breaking. Nothing about this woman is right, but everything about her is perfect.
    ~~~~~~
    I lost all control in there when she started spewing out those dirty fucking words I love to hate. Such beautiful lips attached to an angelic face shouldn’t say such nasty words, but it gets my dick so goddamn hard when I think of her saying them in my bed, just for me. I can’t help but push her for more. I seem to have a thing for shoving her against shit. It gets my dick closer to her. She loved it then and she loved it today. I call that shit a win for me.
    I could smell it, feel it in the way she pushed back. She wanted it just as bad, if not more, than I did. I had to apply every calming technique I’ve ever learned to keep myself from pushing to far; biting my cheek, counting, flexing my fists, picturing something I hate, but I wanted her so bad that nothing seemed to be working. I pushed hard and I loved the flash of fear in her eyes. It makes me sick to push her this way, but I love that moment of uncertainty in her; The newness, the wrongness, and the wildness of how it makes her feel. She wants it, but I almost went too far. I’m trying to break her, not fucking ruin her, at least not yet, anyway.

Seven
Mr. Expertly Tailored Suit
    London
    Go to my last class? I’d never be able to manage class right now. I need a cold shower, a shot of something strong, and a new pair of panties. There’s no chance in hell I could sit through a class after all that.
    It was wrong and filthy, and so fucking good. I was willing to take whatever he wanted to give me. I didn’t want him to stop and I hate myself for it. If I’m not careful, I’ll let him fuck me in the middle of Times Square.
    After today, I realize that there’s nothing surprising about our run-ins. They’re planned and intentional, but the question is why? What the hell does he expect to accomplish by stalking me all over the city.
    If he truly just wants to talk or see me, or whatever it is he wants, all he has to do is ask like any normal person would. I’m not unreasonable. Sure, he was a crazy asshole when we met, but it could’ve been a bad day, or days, for him. Everyone’s entitled to those every now and then. We tend to take them out on others and I get that. All he had to do was say that without making it such a big deal to apologize, even knowing he didn’t sincerely want to. I would have graciously accepted and moved right on along. All this nonsense and crazy is over