CRAVING MY STALKER

The door creaked open, and Daphne walked in. The chilly house immediately hit her skin so hard that she thought she might get a cold. Carefully, she took off her flat shoes and tossed her bag on the couch. The house was so quiet as she headed upstairs. She exhaled softly, her steps tightening on the stairs. "Why am I feeling this way?" she muttered, folding her palm on the slightly rusting rail. Its rustiness caused a rough edge against her palm. She began hearing some voices, contrasting with the quietness before. Her heart skipped a beat. She wondered who it might be since her husband rarely returns by this time. She paused, taking in a deep breath. She licked her lower lip before continuing. As she got closer to the door, their voices got so loud, and it wasn't even a conversation, it was— Their voices had filled the four walls of the house. She shut her eyes tightly as a tear slipped out, knowing he was at it again. Opening them, she continued her way to the room—she should at least know the girl. She got to the door and, with a trembling hand, she held the knob. Their sinful moans covered her ear, causing goosebumps to crawl out on her skin. She released the knob with the thought of not disturbing them but changed her mind. Her hand still trembling, she held the knob and pushed open the door. Entangled bodies. Sheets on the floor. c*m spread all over the bed, and clothes were scattered around. Daphne's eyes were on the bed, and by now, her eyes were filled with tears. She tried to find her voice, and luckily, she did. "Monica..." Her lips quivered. The two of them immediately disconnected as they used their hands to cover up their upper bodies. "Daphne..." Daphne opened the door and walked out of the room, running out of the house. ~~[BOL CLUBHOUSE]~~ Music, wild shows, cigarettes, strippers, with a few other people under the red whom she couldn't see clearly. Daphne gulped a large amount of vodka. It's burning sensation coursing through her systems. Her eyes were drowsy. She couldn't tolerate alcohol. Tears cascaded down her cheeks and she didn't even bother to wipe them. Her heart ached a lot. She knew her husband was a Casanova, aware that he brought lots of women into their matrimonial home. But what she never thought was that her half-sister would go as far as to sleep with her husband. The marriage was a loveless one. Just a deal. "Stay in this marriage, and I will take care of your daughter." She had no option but to agree. Being a lecturer at one of the most prestigious universities was her job. The pay was big enough, but how big was it when you have a sick mum in the hospital and a father who doesn't care? She sniffled, gulping another shot. She knew Monica had never liked her. She had no problem with it, but seeing her husband in bed with her broke her heart a lot. Life has been so mean to her. A slow, sad smile found its way to her lips. "Life. Cruelty. I am getting paid for the things I've done," she muttered drowsily. "Another one!" she yelled, slamming the bottle on the table. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but you can't have another one." Daphne hiccupped. "Whatever..." she slurred, and stood. "Where's the bathroom?" "This way, ma'am," he directed her. She smiled at him. "Th...ank you," she muttered and staggered her way. --- Daphne staggered out of the bathroom as she dressed her pants. She went to the sink and washed her face, but her eyes remained drowsy. She wasn't a fan of drinking. She gripped the edges of the sink, fighting back her tears. Sweeping her hair backward, she released the sink. She began hearing voices as if someone was coming into the bathroom. Not wanting anybody to see her in this state, she hurried to the door and pulled the bolt. "Ahh!" she screamed when she thought she would fall, but instead someone held her hand and pulled her up. Her head fell on a hard chest, and immediately, the cologne filled her nostrils. The person's hand curled around her waist while her palm gripped his shirt. For a moment, she felt different...comfortable. Protected. Happy. She felt all of them, something she hadn't felt in so many years. She didn't know if it was the influence, but she didn't want his hand to leave her waist, nor did she want to let go of him. Maybe if she hadn't caught her husband in bed with her step-sister, she wouldn't be feeling this way in a stranger's arms. "It's okay," the stranger said in a deep, soothing voice, running his finger through her sleek blonde hair. Yeah, she's a blonde. He must have figured out she was crying because her tears had wet his shirt. She grinned. Sniffled. Both at a time. On the one hand, her husband was responsible for her tears, and there was this stranger whom she knew nothing about. Slowly, she raised her head to look at his face, but she saw a helmet. She gave her sheepish smile before stepping away from him. "I...'m so...rry." She sniffled and made to walk again, but her legs betrayed her by tangling again. She could have fallen if not for the stranger who pulled her into his chest again. "Let me go!" she yelled and forced her body away from his grip. "Do...n't touch me again." And again, she had no idea why she was yelling at him. He wasn't the one who wronged her. She would have expected him to listen, but he dragged her by the hand, and her head came in contact with his chest. "Don't act stubborn," he whispered, his minty breath sending tingling sensations all over her nerves. Her heart skipped a beat, and she could feel her knees weakening beneath her. Was it because of the influence or his voice, which she could play over and over again? "Wh...who are you?" She found herself asking. Couldn't understand why he was hell-bent on staying with a drunk, broken lady like her. "Levi," he whispered, still holding her tight in his arms. She nodded her head, gently listening to his faint heartbeat. "Show me...your face," she mumbled. Okay, now she seriously needed to get away from him. Why was she making such a request? He was just a stranger to her. She reminded herself. Her head went up when she didn't hear any movements from him again. She freed herself from his grip. "I... It's okay if..." Her throat went dry when he took off his helmet. He was like the creature God took years sculpting because his face was perfect. From the way his hair fell just above his eyes, to his lips, which she found extremely sexy. His height. Jawline. Cheekbone. And his cologne made crazy thoughts run through her mind. His face looked familiar like she had seen it before... she was not in the right state of mind. "Happy," he said with a smile, and she could swear her heart skipped another beat. His hand curled around her waist, and this time she didn't bother fighting back or asking questions. She stayed still, feeling his breath, his voice, his eyes on her as if she were his, and his hand that wrapped possessively around her waist. She didn't want all of this to end, not now at least. If her husband could do as he pleases, she shouldn't be the innocent one. The vodka had completely taken its toll on her, and her thoughts were now...crazy. She traced her gaze from his chest to his lips, then his face and back to his lips while her hand cupped his face. She struggled with her blurred vision. Grinned. Smiled. Hiccupped. And then she slowly placed her lips on his. The stranger or Levi, like he says, didn't reciprocate. He just kept his gaze on her. Was she crossing her boundaries? She increased her pace, standing on her toes, her palms feeling his well-broad chest. "Levi." She heard him say, reciprocating. How he knew her name was something she didn't even want to know. The only thing she cared about was how sexy it sounded when it left his lips. His hand cupped her butt as he carried her and placed her on the table beside the sink. She moaned into his mouth, and that seemed to ignite him as he probed her mouth open with his tongue. She wasted no time, and soon, they found themselves battling for dominance. Daphne kept pulling him closer as if he would run away. He was a great kisser, she could tell, and she wasn't a softie either. Together, they both devoured each other's lips until their breath ran out. He broke the kiss and traced wet kisses from her lips down to her neck. She shut her eyes, tilted her neck backward, giving him access to suck on her neck. Her mind kept reminding her that he was a stranger whom she knew nothing about except for his name. She ignored it, tightening her grip on his shirt as he sucked on her neck. She let out a low whimper. She heard him say the f**k word, claiming her lips again. This time, she shut her eyes as the kiss was fiercer than the first. His big palm explored her breast. Her legs were wrapped around his torso. She had gone mad. Not crazy. She was in the bathroom, making out with a stranger. A total stranger was making her feel wet, good, like a lady, something she hadn't felt before. She let out a throaty giggle. She has to stop him. Has to do it. Stop him.