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 flinch as yet another thunderstrike sounds outside. The following rumbling in the sky is so loud I briefly worry the windows will break.

The heavy rain pelting them does little to calm my fears. It’s just like the night Rowan was outside my bedroom door, but this storm isn’t as bad. It’s probably not dangerous to stand outside, but I’d still get drenched within seconds.

I am drenched right now anyway, not that I’m complaining. Rowan has me pinned against the tiled wall of my shower. My legs are around his waist, giving him the perfect angle to go as deep as he wants. My arms hang around his neck, my nails digging into his shoulders, and water rains above us from the showerhead.

It's almost comical, how cramped Rowan looks in my shower, but all noises escaping my mouth are caught in his own. His tongue is as deep in my mouth as his length is between my legs, making me so desperate with need.

But he’s keeping me at the edge. The swell of him inside me isn’t nearly enough to satisfy me, and just brings me closer and closer to an edge that feels just within reach, yet out of my grasp.

Rowan finally pulls back, letting me speak. “Please, Rowan,” I beg.

He smirks at my desperation, his tongue darting out just as another thunderstrike makes me flinch. “Hear that?” he mutters. My eyes snag on the way the water from the shower briefly clings to his lips before rolling down his chin, then his neck, and between his pecs. He brings my gaze back to his with his deep voice. “Does it scare you?”

“No,” I lie. It’s fucking terrifying, frankly, especially when the devil himself is inside me right now.

“Your cunt clenches around me every time there’s a thunderstrike, Elsie. Don’t lie to me.” I give him a glare, which he replies to with another hard thrust inside me. My lips part, a gasp pouring out of me. He leans down, pushing himself just a little deeper, and whispers into my ear, “I know you love when you’re scared, Elsie.”

I know I do, too. And when his hands leave my legs to wrap around my throat, cutting off my air supply, I involuntarily clench again.

I writhe in his grip but pinned between his hard body and the hard wall, there’s nowhere to go when he pushes inside me at a quicker and quicker pace. My hands slap against him, trying to get him to release my throat, but he just moans at the pain.

He’s fucking sick, but I’m clearly worse, since the tight grip around my throat makes the edge I’ve been trying to reach inch closer and closer.

It’s only when my vision darkens that he releases my throat. I gasp, sucking in as much air as I can. One of his hands stays wrapped around my throat, while his other begins snaking down my body. He roughly grabs at my breasts, making me cry out, before he trails his hand down my stomach, all the way to just above where we’re joined.

I moan when he plays with my hood. “Rowan…” I whimper, knowing how much he loves when I say his name.

It works. He groans and brings his mouth down to mine. His hips work faster, and his fingers start rolling my clit between them. I grip his cock tighter and push my heels into his back, pulling him closer to me, and it only takes a few more seconds before we both come apart at once.

His grip on my throat turns tighter, making my head foggy, just as I feel him come inside me. My own orgasm follows shortly, making me grip him tighter like a monkey climbing a tree. My back is crushed against the tiled wall, like he wants to be as deep as possible when he releases his come.

He places his forehead on mine, and we both breathe heavily, recovering. He’s still inside me, his semi-erect length pulsing a little. After a minute, he pulls out, making me feel all empty without him.

That’s how it always feels when we stop, or when I don’t see him for a little while. Empty. At this point, I’m more used to feeling him inside me than not, both in my pussy and my soul.

Rowan helps me get back on my feet before we finish up our shower. He has a thing for cleaning my hair, something I haven’t been allowed to do on my own for weeks now. He takes his time, making me moan at the way he massages my scalp.

Once we finish up, I go grab my phone to check the time. “Shit,” I say. “It’s 6:30.” We’re supposed to leave at 7.

Rowan comes up to me and grabs my hand, pulling me towards my (our?) bedroom. “I’ve picked out your dress already. We have time.”

I sigh when I look at the black cocktail dress. Not because it isn’t beautiful (it is), but because I’m mentally preparing myself for what will be the most awkward dinner of my life.

It’s been a few weeks since my sister met my…fiancé. It still feels strange to call him that when he didn’t even ask me. But would I have said no? I’d hope so, but I don’t think I could. He got me a ring a few days after, and I hate admitting it’s absolutely gorgeous.

Since then, Rowan has unofficially moved in, again without asking permission to do so. He doesn’t say he’s living with me, but I think he loves falling asleep with me. Or maybe he just watches me sleep. Either way, he doesn’t want to leave me at night.

It's strange, but I don’t want him to go either. I feel safe with him, in a really, and I mean really, fucked up way. He hurts me and terrifies me, but my body craves it, like it can never get enough. But when his arms wrap around me at night, I almost purr with how good it feels.

But there’s still a flicker of reluctance at his demands. When he tells me to bend over or get on my knees for him, I want to refuse, and not just because I want him to force me. Part of me still wants to run and actually escape him, without him catching me.

I don’t think he knows it’s there. He seems incredibly confident that I won’t escape him now, and I think I know why. He’s conditioned me to accept his treatment of me, torn down the walls I didn’t even know existed. And I think he thinks he’s finished his job, but I know he hasn’t.

It feels like I’m on a tightrope, like one gust of wind will destroy everything I thought I knew about Rowan and myself. And that gust of wind could be anything, and it terrifies me to imagine what it could be.

But if I do run from Rowan, I know he won’t let me get far. I’m his fiancée now, and he’s inserted himself in my life against my will. I know he won’t let it go to waste now.

I slip the dress on, then turn to face him. He’s immaculately dressed, wearing a fitted white button-up and black slacks. He looks fucking edible, and when he finishes fastening his cufflinks, he turns to face me and catches my perverted gaze. “Come on,” he orders with a grin, dragging me to the front door.

We’re meeting my sister for dinner, and I would rather do literally anything else. We haven’t spoken much since that day, although she still calls me every day to check on me and comes over every now and then. But she’s still upset with me, and I get it. I’d be upset with her too if she’d kept Robert a secret until after he proposed.

But it’s not like this is my fault either. Rowan declared himself my fiancé before I had the chance to say yes, so Sophie was just as surprised as I was to find out we’re getting married. So while I get it, it still feels so unfair for her to upset with me and not him.

Not like Rowan cares. He gets to marry me and that’s all he wants. Just like with every other aspect of my life, he’s forced his way into getting what he wants without my knowledge or consent.

Whatever.

It’s not like I’m putting up much of a fight now anyway. It’s just like when I was at the warehouse, but on a bigger scale. I’ve accepted that my life is in his hands and that there’s nothing I can do about that, even if part of me is screaming at me to fight and run.

But I can’t do that now, not when we’re going to my sister’s place. The storm has gotten worse, the wind whipping my hair into my face as soon as we exit the front door. I bring both hands to my forehead, terrified that the rain will mess up my makeup, and practically run to Rowan’s car.

Yes, his car. He apparently did have a car, Officer Meadows.

Once he gets behind the wheel, I turn to face him. “Can you just, like, be a normal fiancé tonight?” It’s only the second time he’s meeting Sophie, and the first time he’s meeting Robert. At least, it would be if not for the time he knocked on their front door just to torment me.

He doesn’t look at me as he backs us out of our driveway. “I’m your stalker, Elsie. I won’t pretend I’m your upstanding fiancé. You make me lose my mind, so how can you expect me to act normal around you?”

Yeah, that’s what I was worried he would say.

“I swear, just give me five minutes and it’ll come to me.” Robert snaps his fingers, trying to remember. “Are you a client form work?” Rowan shakes his head with a small smirk. “Fuck, I’ve no idea.”

Robert has been trying for the past ten minutes to recall where he’s seen Rowan before. I swear I can feel my heart stop every time he makes a guess, because I’m terrified of what will happen if he guesses correctly. Rowan, meanwhile, looks like he’s enjoying himself, but I’m convinced it’s just because he knows I hate this.

“You know you don’t have a good memory for faces,” Sophie tells her husband. She’s sitting across the table from me, with Robert to her right. Rowan sits to my left, having placed a possessive hand on my exposed thigh. I tried shoving his hand away, but his grip only tightened, because of course it did.

Robert just shakes his head. “I know, but I swear I recognise him from somewhere.”

“That’s the fifth time you’ve said that,” Rowan pipes up, taking a sip of his wine.

“Fine.” Robert throws up his hands. “I give up.” Everyone laughs, a bit tightly, but still.

Dinner has been surprisingly okay. There’s been some stiffness, and I don’t think Sophie has looked into Rowan’s eyes more than once or twice, but nothing horrible has happened yet. I mean, a win is a win, right?

And despite what Rowan said before we left, he’s done an admirable job at making a good impression. It feels like we’re a normal couple right now, even with his tight grip on my leg under the table. I think he’s won over Robert so far, even if Sophie will take a little more warming up.

“So, Elsie,” she says once the laughter dies down. She leans over the table a little, like she’s about to tell me a secret. “I have to ask. Have you heard anything new?”

She doesn’t need to tell me what she’s asking about. “No,” I say immediately. It’s a lie, obviously, but at this point it doesn’t even feel like one. Because I’m not being stalked anymore, unless you count Rowan touching me at all hours of the day as stalking. “It’s been weeks of no news.”

“Has that happened before?” Robert asks. “That he doesn’t do anything for long periods of time?”

“Yeah, but not this long.”

Rowan’s thumb starts rubbing steady circles on my skin, soothing and grounding me as Sophie replies. “Do you think he’s…lost interest?”

I feel Rowan’s hand tensing a little, like he immediately wants to deny that accusation but is holding himself back. “I don’t know,” I lie, receiving a firm squeeze in retaliation. I squirm a little before I compose myself again. “Maybe.”

Definitely not, is what his fingers seem to be telling me as they inch further and further up my leg. I close my thighs to keep them still, and he stops moving up just as he gets under the hem of my dress.

“I don’t wanna jinx it,” Sophie continues. “Obviously stalkers aren’t mentally well and who knows why he’s gone silent, but maybe this is good news?”

I hum and nod, because right now I want Sophie to stop worrying more than anything.

“But.” She reaches over the table and grabs my hands between hers. “Elsie. I need you to tell me right now, as your sister, if you’re telling the truth when you say you haven’t heard from him in weeks.”

“Of course,” I nod.

“Okay. And I need you to tell me the second anything changes, got it?” I nod, and Sophie then points a finger at Rowan. “And you. You keep her safe, you hear me?”

He smiles. “Of course, Sophie. She’s safe with me.” His hand starts moving up my leg again, finally stopping just as his finger grazes my core.

“Promise me,” she continues. “Both of you. Call us the second anything new happens with the stalker, you got it?”

Rowan nods and I say, “I promise,” like the damn liar I am.

The rest of dinner goes by without incident, Rowan’s hand still under my dress, and we wrap it up a few hours after we arrived. By now, the storm still hasn’t let up, and it’s now pitch-black outside.

Sophie gives me a kiss on the cheek before we leave, and I catch Robert still eyeing Rowan like he can figure out where he’s seen him before.

Once we make it outside, we’re almost immediately assaulted by heavy rain and howling winds. It nearly knocks me back, and I only avoid tripping on my block heels thanks to Rowan’s steadying grip on my arm.

I practically run into his passenger seat, waiting for him to start the car and get it warm. It’s freezing outside, and I nearly moan when I feel the seat warmer heating up.

Rowan starts driving us home, and my thoughts immediately start racing.

Dinner went well. Surprisingly well. I really did think Rowan would do something to make them realise he’s my stalker, but he acted surprisingly well. I think they actually like Rowan, which is insane. I mean, I like him too. I think. But for two of my family members to like him too is almost hard to believe.

But he is a charming man, frankly. He terrifies me when he wants to, but when he doesn’t, he’s almost a good fiancé. He takes care of me one minute and fucks me like he hates me the next, and I can’t get enough of it.

Am I insane? Most definitely. So is he, but falling in love with your stalker has got to be on another tier of insanity than stalking in and of itself.

I know he manipulated me, but I don’t think I care anymore. Okay, a little bit of me does, but I’m trying my hardest to tell that part of me to shut up.

But I can’t stop my mind from imagining how things might’ve gone differently. What if I had gone nuclear when I found the first rose, calling my sister for help immediately? What if I’d asked for help when I found the vase, minutes before he ate me out on the floor? What if I hadn’t taken up his offer to go to the warehouse where he forced me to let him claim me?

Would he have moved on, or was his addiction so strong he wouldn’t have given up? What if I’d fought him tooth and nail, never giving in? Would he have killed me then, in a if I can’t have you, no one can sort of way? And, most terrifyingly of all…Will he kill me if I try to get away from him again?

Questions like these keep me up at night sometimes, but then I always feel Rowan’s strong body holding me tightly, clearly not letting me run, and reminding me of why I don’t want to. But now, with the whizzing and soothing lights littering the street, combined with the pelting rain and occasional rumbling of thunder, it feels like I’m in a war in my own head. The tightrope I’m balancing on seems to thin, and the storm seems to get more violent.

We pull up to my house and Rowan looks over at me. “You okay, Elsie?” he asks, but I barely hear him. I just nod and hum a little, and when I look over at him, I see his eyes darkening a little.

Normally, that motion would make my thighs clench with need, but now, I just feel scared. He keeps looking at me, like he’s trying to read me, and the monotonous sound of the rain makes this truly a terrifying situation.

Can he tell I’m scared? Can he tell I’m wondering if he’d kill me someday? I don’t realise how far down this hole I’ve fallen until his lips thin, clearly showing he can read the fear on my face.

I’m so focused on his movements I don’t even flinch when a thunderstrike lands just a few hundred meters away.

“Let’s head inside, okay?” he asks, almost like he’s trying to calm a caged animal.

And maybe I am caged, because it’s not like I can tell him no. He’ll drag me in by my hair if I say no. He’ll tie me up in my bed if I fight him.

I think he’ll fucking kill me if I hesitate for another second.

With trembling hands, I open the door. I’m barely keeping it together. My eyes sting from unshed tears, and my legs feel wobbly as we walk, hand in hand, up the stairs leading to my house.

Once we make it inside, both soaking wet from the rain, we stop in the entryway. I remember when he stood just a short distance away, silently guiding me up the stairs so he could make me come on his face.

I tried to run out the front door then and failed.

He grips my shoulders, the touch searing the exposed skin, and he looks at me. I can barely look at him without getting a trembling bottom lip. “I’m going to grab a coat hanger so we can hang up your dress to let it dry, okay?”

I nod, and he walks into the living room. I didn’t know there were coat hangers there.

And when I look in the closet, I find plenty of coat hangers. Why didn’t he just grab one of those?

But then I turn to the front door. It’s unlocked.

This is a test.

I look at the door handle, considering my options. Does he want me to stay, to choose him? Does he want me to run so he can break me and make it impossible for me to escape?

I don’t know. I don’t know anything about him. I don’t even know his last name, or where he lives, or even what fucking ice cream he likes.

All I know about him is that he likes to fuck me against my will. He’s sick, and one day he’ll snap. One day I’ll hesitate like I did in the car, and he’ll snap my neck and move onto the next woman.

I won’t let that happen.

Without a single coherent thought remaining in my head, without any plan for what I’m going to do next, I place a trembling hand on the doorhandle. I turn it, then dash out into the storm, running as fast as I can.

I hear the front door slamming just a few seconds after I leave her, and it brings a smile to my face. I could tell she wanted to run from me, and I let her.

It’s okay. She won’t get far.

I give her a head start of about a minute before I follow her out into the night. I spot her almost immediately, seeing her turn into the woods just around the corner from our house.

It’s where I first saw her, when she ran her trail. Except now, I’m not going to look at her from afar.

I’ll catch her, just like I know she secretly wants me to. The last of her fight has just appeared, and it's time to crush it in my palm. I will break her beyond repair.

And I’ll never let her run from me again.

Hi! For transparancy, I just want to make it clear there will be one more part of this series, maybe two if I think it's too long. Thank you for reading this and (hopefully) all the other parts!💜