TRIGGER WARNINGS (PLEASE READ): This story and series as a whole features explicit stalking and non-consent. Please do not read if you are at all sensitive to those topics.

IMPORTANT NOTES: It goes without saying that while it's fun to read and write stories like these, the actions of the male main character are reprehensible and in real life, he should go straight to jail. He is a sadistic psycho, and is both possessive and obsessive to an extremely unhealthy and damaging degree.

This story, including all names and people, is entirely fictional and not based on any real life experiences or events.

(All parts to this story can be found here when they are published!💜)

“I’m pregnant.”

“You’re what?” I blurt, my ass having barely landed on my couch.

Sophie gives me a guilty look, then grabs my hands. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I had this whole over the top speech planned for how I’d announce it, but then I realised it would be easier to just come out with it. So…” She trails off, then shrugs and gives a nervous smile. “I’m pregnant?”

I pull her into a hug. “Oh my God, Sophie. Congratulations!” I’m genuinely ecstatic for her, but also considering how overprotective Sophie is of me, having a little one to fuss over sounds exactly like what she needs.

“How far along are you?” I ask, and even though I know she’s not going to show just yet, I still look at her stomach.

“Eight weeks,” she replies. As though we’re of one mind, she places a hand on her stomach, like she can feel her baby kicking around in there.

I hum, then go to stand. “I’ll just take this back,” I say, grabbing the wine glass I’d put out for her.

“Oh, come on,” she whines, but she’s smiling from ear to ear as she does.

I laugh and start making my way to the kitchen, but I can’t stop my thoughts from wandering. It’s been a few days since Rowan ate me out in the middle of the night. Since then, he’s been unable to stay away from me.

Every night, without fail, I wake up with Rowan defiling my body. Either with his mouth, with his hands, or with his cock. And every time, he wrings an orgasm from me before he finishes himself off, and then he leaves.

It’s a strange routine, really. I know he can’t get to me during the day, since Sophie is keeping watch over me, but at night, it’s like he’s a man starved.

It’s…invigorating, honestly. I knew he was obsessed (I mean, he’s my stalker), but to have it so plainly laid out for me is strangely tantalizing. And at this point, I’m looking forward to his nightly visits.

Sophie is still, even almost two weeks later, insisting on calling me every hour and visiting every day. But even she can’t keep my demon away from me at night.

It doesn’t feel great, though. All this sneaking around. I’ve been lying to her for months, and I’m sick of it. The guilt of coming on my stalker’s face or around his cock, just to call my sister the following morning to tell her I’ve heard nothing new is immense.

My best hope now is that when enough time passes, maybe when she is in the late stages of her pregnancy, Sophie might believe me when I say my stalker has lost interest in me.

But what then? Is he supposed to just keep going with this routine? Fucking me whenever he wants until I fall over and die? It doesn’t sound like something he’d do.

But then again, what the hell do I even know about him? Not much, beyond his name and his obsession with me.

I’ve thought about this a few times lately, but all thoughts leave my head when I put away the wine glass in the kitchen, turn around, and feel Rowan’s large hand covering my mouth.

Oh my God, what the fuck is he doing here?

He spins me around until I’m facing the counter, pulling my back to his front. His other hand snakes around my waist, and I whimper and writhe in his hold.

Sophie is in another room, and she can’t see us, but there’s no door between us. Just open air between my sister and my stalker. I’m panicking. Does he know she’s here? He’s got to, right? I was speaking to her just a minute ago, and now he’s here, rubbing his erection against my lower back.

“Be quiet,” he mutters into my ear. “Let me tell you your options.” I try to turn around, but he keeps me still. “I’m meeting your sister in about two minutes,” he explains, and I pale. “You can be a good girl and introduce us, or I can bend you over and fuck you right here. I’m meeting Sophie either way. It’s up to you how that happens, Elsie.”

He moves away, giving me space to breathe. I turn to face him, whispering, “I can’t, Rowan.” Because really, how the fuck can I sit by while Sophie shakes hands with Rowan? What the hell am I even supposed to call him? My friend? My boyfriend? My worst nightmare?

He clicks his tongue, then leans down to my ear. He uses one hand to grab my neck, keeping me in place, and his other dips into my panties beneath my leggings, cupping me. I writhe a little, but he keeps me still. “That’s fine by me,” he taunts, and I realise I have no fucking choice. I’m choosing the lesser of two evils, even if it doesn’t feel like a choice.

“Okay,” I hurry out. “I’ll do it. Now please stop.”

He removes his hands and gives me a panty-melting grin. “Since you asked so nicely,” he drawls, then motions me towards the living room with his arm.

“Elsie?” I hear Sophie yell. “You okay?”

I’m not. I’m so fucking not. I’m panicking, my legs are wobbly, and there’s a thin layer of sweat on my face.

Sophie must see how panicked I am when I enter the living room, because she stands and moves towards me. “Hey, you okay? You look like…” She trails off, and I close my eyes in resignation when I realise she’s caught sight of Rowan behind me.

She moves back. Back and back until her shins meet the table, and she almost falls. When she gathers herself, she points a finger at Rowan, who’s standing behind me. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Rowan,” he purrs, just like when he introduced himself to me right before he fucked me for the first time. He walks up to her, and she shrinks a little under his, frankly, intimidating size. He extends a hand to her, the same fucking hand that was just in my pants. I cringe a little, because that’s just nasty, and I just know he did that on purpose to torment me. “You must be Sophie.” Yes, Rowan, she sure must be.

“Uhm,” she stutters. “Yes, I am. I’m Elsie’s sister, but who are you to her?”

“I’m Elsie’s fiancé.”

What the fuck? I turn to face Rowan, but he’s not looking at me. Still, I don’t miss his little grin, and I so badly want to slap that grin off his stupid fucking face.

“What the hell?” Sophie exclaims, and I nearly hum my agreement. “Fiancé!? Elsie, you didn’t tell me any of this!”

I didn’t know I was, apparently, his fiancée until ten seconds ago. But Rowan has trapped me. I have no choice but to hum my apologies to Sophie, because if I refute Rowan’s assertion, then what am I supposed to say? If I say he’s my stalker, if I tell the fucking truth, then I’ve no idea what’s going to happen.

And I really, really do not want to find out. That’s the reason I don’t tell her the truth, I tell myself, even though I know that’s not it.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter. “I…”

“Wait, where did you even come from? I didn’t hear the front door.” Sophie’s eyes widen a little. “You’re not…no, you can’t be…right?” She’s pointedly avoiding the S word, but we all know what she’s talking about.

Rowan laughs, he actually fucking laughs. “No, I’m not. I was in the kitchen when you came in.” How does he sound so confident? “But I can be pretty good at hiding and keeping quiet. Probably why you didn’t hear me.”

“So…you know? That Elsie has a stalker?” A good fiancé would know, I suppose, but a good fiancé wouldn’t also be said stalker. Oh, well, beggars can’t be choosers.

“Of course,” he says. “But she doesn’t need to worry when I’m around. I’ll keep her safe from him.” He comes to my side and places a possessive hand on my waist. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kick a man’s balls as bad as I do right now.

Sophie frowns, then opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again. This repeats three times, until eventually she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and finally pushes out, “Wait.” Her eyes home in on mine. “This is insane.” I almost nod my agreement, because yeah. “You’ve had a stalker for months, and now…Wait, how long has this been going on?” She points a finger between us.

“Not long,” I say, just as Rowan says, “A couple months.” Fucking bastard.

Sophie’s eyes widen. “A couple months!?” I can’t blame her for her reaction, but I also can’t stand being in the middle of Rowan and Sophie. Rowan is placing all of this on me, forcing me to untangle the mess he’s carelessly tossed me into. And I guaran-fucking-te that he’s hard as a rock from tormenting me like this. I don’t even need to check, but I’m sure he’ll show me later.

Hopefully after Sophie leaves.

“I…” I hesitate, part of me hoping that Rowan will put me out of my misery, but he just stays quiet, because of course. I take a breath and continue. “We met around the same time I found out I have a stalker.” Not a lie. Not really. Okay, sort of, but who’s counting? “I guess I just…it felt difficult to talk about him when I also have a stalker?” I say it like a question, like I’m seeking approval from her.

“Was he the guy you were texting back at my place?” she asks, and I nod. “That makes sense. I guess. Not really, though.” She huffs out a humourless laugh. “I’ve been…God, Elsie, you could’ve told me you had a guy, no fiancé, watching over you. I thought Robert and I were the only ones.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” At least that is nothing but the truth.

“Does he live with you?” she asks. “Wait, did he know you were…uhm, kidnapped? That you went to the police?”

“Yes to all three,” Rowan pipes in.

“Sorry, Rowan, but I don’t understand how you can be so relaxed and casual about all this?” I sure know. It’s because he’s responsible for all this.

Before he can say something like, I am her stalker, I interrupt with, “It’s just how he is. He doesn’t really show his emotions on his face.” Except when he’s licking me between my legs.

“Right…” Sophie says. “But you guys are engaged after just a few months?”

Neither of us respond. I just hum, because she’s right. This is insane, and I don’t know what I should tell her at this point.

Sophie sighs. “Rowan, can you leave us for a minute?” Surprisingly, he nods his agreement and heads to the bottom floor bathroom, softly closing the door behind him.

Once he’s gone, I immediately turn to face Sophie. “I’m so sorry,” I say, and I really am, even if I’m pissed off that Rowan pushed me into this situation. “I should’ve told you earlier.”

“Are you safe with him?” Her question surprises me, and she must see it in my face, because she clarifies, “I mean, you have to realise how bizarre this is, Elsie. This guy I’ve never seen before comes up to me and introduces himself as your fiancé, says you’ve been dating for a few months, and looks pretty damn chill about this whole…stalker thing.” She pauses, eyebrows furrowed. “I mean, honestly, I thought he was your stalker at first. Part of me still thinks he is. So, tell me. Are you safe with that man?”

It's almost scary how she deduced this situation, figuring out exactly who he is, even if she must think her initial assumption is wrong.

And…am I safe with Rowan? Not really. No, most definitely not. But it’s not like he’d kill me. He hurts me and scares me, but I’ve already reached the point where I can admit to myself that I get off on it.

In a way, I’m safer with him than without him. Because he’s a ridiculously strong and possessive man, wouldn’t it be better to be his than not be his? I mean, I certainly feel better about him now than when he first started stalking me. All I felt back then was terrified, albeit a little excited at times. But now, it’s the other way around. I feel excited about him, even if he still scares me.

But at the end of the day, the response I’m about to give Sophie is still a lie. I know he’s not a fiancé who would treat me like how Robert treats Sophie. And maybe I don’t want that, but it still doesn’t change that, fundamentally, I’m not safe with him. If I tell him no, if I run from him, he’ll catch me and punish me for running from him.

But that thought still makes my stupid little heart thud a little faster in anticipation.

“I’m safe with him,” I lie, but my fucked-up self doesn’t even feel bad about it.

Sophie nods, and relief floods my body. “Fine. But–“ She points an angry finger in my face. “–I am still very upset with you, Elsie.”

“I know, Sophie. I’m really sorry, truly.”

She sighs, then huffs a laugh and smiles at me. “A pregnancy and an engagement, all in one evening, huh?” I laugh, just as she pulls me into a hug. “Don’t take my hug as forgiveness.”

“I won’t.”

When she pulls away, she grabs my hands and forces my gaze to hers. “I’ll get over it. The whole, My sister didn’t tell me she got engaged, thing, but just give me a little time, okay?”

I nod, and with one more hug and a kiss on the cheek, she goes to leave. Rowan comes out of the bathroom to say goodbye, and Sophie gives him another warning to keep me safe, otherwise she’ll personally skin him alive.

Once she leaves, I turn to face Rowan. My stalker. My obsession. My fucking fiancé.

“What the hell was that about?” I ask with irritation. “We’re suddenly engaged now?”

He walks up to me, and I gulp. I slowly back away, all the way until I hit a wall, and he continues coming closer until my breasts push against his chest with every breath. He grabs my cheeks in his hands, forcing my gaze up to his just before he gives me a searing kiss. “You know I’m not the type to ask permission when it comes to you, my little Elsie.”

Oh, God, why did that send heat to between my legs?

“I’m still mad at you, Rowan.”

He laughs. “That’s fine, I’m in the mood for a hatefuck anyway.”

Before I can voice my pointless protests, he’s yanking my leggings down to my knees, along with my panties. I gasp, just before his fingers push inside me. Heat rushes to my cheeks when I realise just how drenched I am.

“Such a wet cunt,” Rowan mocks. “I think I should’ve just fucked you over the kitchen counter earlier. Show Sophie how much of a whore my future wife is.”

“Oh, God,” I moan when he curls his fingers. His palm is rubbing against my clit, and I’m seconds from begging him to fuck me.

He pulls out, and I let out an annoyed whine, which he responds to with a grin. In one swift motion, he pulls his already hard cock out, the tip glistening with arousal that’s just begging to be licked off.

He pulls my leggings all the way off my legs, then grabs my thighs and pulls me up until my legs go around his waist. There’s no warning. No buildup or care. Just a single, deep thrust until he’s sheathed at the hilt.

I shriek a little at the sheer size. Because even though I’m wet as anything, he’s still massive, and I didn’t have time to prepare. It hurts, the way I’m stretching around him and having to accommodate his size, yet it still sends pleasure through my veins.

It's like a drug. The pain and pleasure that go hand in hand whenever Rowan does anything with me. If he hurts me, it just makes me that much wetter and more desperate for him. And if he gives me pleasure, it comes packaged with pain, whether that be physical or mental.

Because really, I don’t think I’ll ever get over the shame of loving the way my stalker fucks me, like he is right now.

He’s relentless. His hands have moved from my thighs to the crease where they meet my hips, and his thumbs are digging painfully hard into my skin with his firm grip. I’m just along for the ride while he pushes in and out of me against the wall, making it shake behind me.

His mouth comes down to my neck, giving it a sharp bite. I yelp and try to move away from him, but all I manage is to grind my back a little against the wall. He gives me another bite, accompanied by a growl, which keeps me still. His tongue darts out to where he bit me, soothing the bite and tickling me a little.

“God, it hurts,” I complain when I feel him so deep I swear I taste him in my throat.

He lets go with one hand, using it to yank my tank top down. His teeth close around one of my breasts, and I shriek when he bites it as hard as he wants. When he pulls back, he looks me right in the eye. “Fucking tell me you don’t love this,” he growls.

I do love this. That’s the worst part, isn’t it? But it still fucking hurts. He’s still stretching me around him, and it still feels like he’s tearing me apart, right down the middle, so I push out, “I don’t love this.”

He moans, like the depraved bastard he is. “Little liar,” he mocks, then slams his mouth onto mine.

His tongue licks at my bottom lip, then my top, before he pushes it inside my mouth. He pushes it back and back, so fucking deep I almost gag. All I feel his him. The way he’s filling my mouth with his tongue, the way he’s filling my pussy with his cock.

It's too much, how harsh he’s treating me, yet I feel the first signs of my impending climax right where we’re joined.

“I’m going to…” I trail off when I feel his pelvis grinding against my clit. “Fuck,” I moan.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he orders.

“I’m yours,” I moan, not hesitating.

“Tell me you belong to me.” His thrusts, somehow, turn even quicker.

“I belong to you.”

He moans. “Tell me I fucking own you, Elsie.”

My orgasm hits me just as he groans my name. I cling to him as hard as I can, my mouth coming down to his neck to muffle my cries. He’s still fucking me with abandon, so when I think my climax has finished, even more of it is wrung out of me.

I recover myself, then bring my mouth to his ear. “You fucking own me, Rowan,” I mutter.

He releases a growl just as he releases deep inside me. I yelp as he pushes fully into me, squeezing me between him and the wall in a painful way. He keeps coming, all the way until I feel his come dripping out of me, and he finally stops moving.

We stay like that, joined together in more ways than one. I’m sure my tank top–and his shirt–is permanently ruined from our sweat, from how intensely he fucked me.

My legs are shaking, even as I try to relax them around his waist, but he eventually pulls out and sets my feet on the floor.

My stalker, my future fucking husband, zips himself up, then looks down at me. “The only lie I told Sophie was that I would keep you safe from your stalker.” He smiles a little at his own joke. “That means I’m staying here.” He comes down to my ear, nipping it a little before he whispers into my ear, “And you’re going to marry me, Elsie.”

Elsie doesn’t look surprised by my promise. Instead, she looks up at me and asks, “Do I have a choice?”

“No,” I say firmly, because obviously she doesn’t. I’m not letting her go, even if she begs me to. Honestly, the thought of her begging me to be let go, only for me to deny her makes me want to go for another round.

But I know she’s too spent for that. I love fucking her until she can’t speak or walk anymore, but I want her to be somewhat coherent and stable first, just so I can ruin her again.

She huffs a laugh, like she expected that response. “Well, do you have your stuff? Or do you want to go grab it from your creepy warehouse before we go to sleep?”

I smile. “I have all I want right here,” I say, just as I tuck her messy hair behind her ears. “Now come on.” I give her a firm slap to her ass, and I groan a little at the way it bounces.

We make our way to bed, and it’s truly a tight fit. I knew her bed wasn’t very large. I mean, I’ve fucked her in it several times. But sleeping side by side is not going to happen.

“You’re too big,” she says, and I quirk an eyebrow. “Not like that. I mean, like that too, but I meant you’re too big for the bed…” She looks at the bed like it’s a math problem she doesn’t know how to solve.

I get into bed first, then pull her down to join me. She yelps, but quickly settles into my chest when I pull her against my body.

It feels strange. Playing house with Elise. But I’m not the type to deny myself anything that feels good, and this feels fucking good. The way her soft curves mould and fit so well against my hard chest. The way my large hand fits so neatly at the curve of her waist.

She’s so soft, and I can’t get enough of it, even as I also desperately want to cover her soft skin with bruises and scars.

I’ll get around to that later, I decide. I have nothing but time with her now.

But I can still tell she’s tense. There’s still a part of her that wants to run, and not just in the hopes that I catch her. I’m not stupid, and nor is she. We both know this isn’t normal, a woman getting engaged to her stalker, but neither of us are normal people.

Is it quick? Yes. But will this last until the day I take my last breath? Abso-fucking-lutely. And it will last beyond that, too, if I have it my way.

If there’s a God, I know I’m not going to Heaven. But if Elsie is, I’m going to fucking drag her down to Hell with me, just to keep her forever.

And if she still wants to run? That’s fine. I’ll catch her, like I always have. I’ll make her love me, like I set out to do from the first day I saw her. She’s getting there, even if she needs time. She loves the way I terrify her and the way I fuck her, but I want her to love me in the same way.

Soon, I think, as I idly rub her soft skin with my thumb. She stirs a little, and I realise she’s fallen asleep. I’ve watched her fall asleep hundreds of times, but I can’t deny that it brings so much pleasure for her to fall asleep in my arms. And unlike last time, when I had to sedate her after her escape attempt, this time she feels safe enough to fall asleep on her own.

It's strange. Do I want her to feel safe with me? I want her to fear me just as much as she loves me, obviously, so it feels strange to realise that she feels contented in my arms.

I shrug a little, then grab her left hand and take a closer look. It looks tiny, so God damn soft, in my large, calloused palm. I could crush her hand in mine if I wanted to. I could completely ruin her, and I will in so many ways, but ruining her beautiful body beyond repair is not something I want to do.

I want to ruin her mentally. No normal person falls in love with their stalker, but that’s exactly what I’m going to make her do. Any physical damage I do to her is a means to that end, even if we both get off on it all the same.

And now that Sophie knows I’m going to marry her sister, I can finally move things at my pace again, instead of sneaking around like a damn teenager hiding from his girlfriend’s dad.

Like I said, there’s still a part of her that needs to be broken for me. There’s still a part of her that would kill me if she had the chance.

But I know how to break that last little part of her. She doesn’t know it exists within her, the last of her fight, but I do. It’ll make itself known one day, and that’s when I need to grab onto it and crush it between my fingers.

I don’t know how or when it’ll happen, but it will. I’m sure of it. And when the last of her will to escape me appears, I’ll kill it. After that, she won’t want to escape me again. She’ll be mine, in every sense of the word, and she’ll want to be mine.  

And I won’t fucking rest until that happens.

Thank you for reading!💜 I'm sorry these last two parts have taken longer to get out. I've been working on some other short stories of similar length to this one (ones I'm very excited to post when the time comes!), but my main priority is still The White Rose. I assume there will be two more parts before I'll wrap it up, and I hope you all enjoy those when they come out!💜