CH - 3 [ Nikolai] Pt- 2

Just kidding. I am crazy.

A week later, I’m lurking by the entrance of the Elites’ mansion at five

thirty in the fucking morning.

You know, where Brandon lives wit

Believe me, I’d never dream of waking up this early. But I can’t exactly

survive on images of him trapped beneath me and wiggling his ass against

my cock.

Kolya, the traitorous bitch who’d deserve castration if I wasn’t a major

sexual being, still twitches at those memories.

Something he wasn’t interested in despite all the porn shows I presented

him with, both live and recorded.

He’s being a dick. Literally.

Which brings me to this amateurish stalking mission. I might have

visited Bran’s Instagram and seen all the stories he posts every single day at

five thirty like clockwork.

Sure enough, the small gate on the side creaks open and he steps

outside, stretching under the hint of sun. He’s dressed in loose shorts and a

fitted green T-shirt that clings to his muscles like a second skin.

Fucking hot.

Now, if he weren’t so groomed with his shaven face, styled hair, and

general sophisticated appearance, he’d be even hotter.

I love my men filthy, unkempt, and rugged around the edges.

Women are soft and pliant and should be worshipped. Men are to be

used.

Who am I kidding? Both are to be used.

And he’s not one of my men. Jesus Christ. The fuck is wrong with my

thought process?

Must be the lack of sleep. Has to be.

Only psychos wake up this early every day for a satanic ritual.

Sure enough, he retrieves his phone from his armband—of course the

prick has an armband. Goes so well with his pristine clean image—and

snaps a picture of the sky, then his fingers tap on the screen.

I grab my phone—from my shorts pocket like a normal human being—

and check the story.

It’s an aesthetic picture containing part of the gate and the looming sun.

#NewDay

That’s literally the only hashtag he uses on these posts, as if he’s

planning to kill his audience with the repetitive caption.

Brandon tucks his phone back into the armband and touches the earbuds

in his ears, elegantly, I might add, as if he’s handling a million-dollar

painting.

All his movements are slow, unhurried. No, not slow. Controlled. His

favorite uptight behavior seems to pour from him in everything he does.

I bet he doesn’t know how to have fun.

I’d feel bad for him if I weren’t itching to tackle him to the ground and

pummel his beautiful face a few times.

Though beautiful isn’t quite the right word. He’s not pretty like a girl or

beautiful like a colorful flower on the side of the road. He’s handsome.

Sharp jawline, hard eyes, straight nose, and a set of full lips that would

look divine around a cock.

Kolya wholeheartedly agrees, considering the significant change in his

moody state. I have to adjust my erection and shake my head.

Stop thinking about Brandon and dick. They obviously don’t mesh.

In fact, the logical thing to do is turn around and leave.

But then again, I was never much of a logical person.

If I don’t stay, I’ll come back tomorrow. And if I leave tomorrow, I’ll

return the day after.

It’s an itch at this point.

As Brandon starts running down the road, I release a sigh, tuck my

phone back in my shorts, and follow right after.

I’m just gonna find out if he’s as confused as Gareth, and if he is, I’ll

help offer pointers. Consider it charity work.

That’s it.

That’s all.

I catch up to him in no time, keeping a few yards between us. His back

muscles ripple beneath his shirt and his hamstrings extend and repress,

causing his shorts to ride up his thighs with every step.

Hypnotic.

My gaze keeps flitting to the round globes of his ass, though, all peachy

and shit.

If he’s straighter than straight, it’s such a shame to leave that ass empty.

Brandon seems lost in whatever is playing in his ears, because he

doesn’t notice when I close the distance between us.

I keep running at his pace right behind him.

Now, I know I’m supposed to be on a stalkerish mission, but it’s

impossible to stay away from his spellbinding pull.

Fuck it.

I pluck one of his AirPods out and whisper into his ear, “Long time no

see. Miss me?”

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