Hello everyone,

This is such a different fic than I normally write, and just for the record, I would be just as scared if a man was chasing me around town. I have read the reviews that say Bella is crazy. I completely agree, but there is something about that rush of fear that is provocative.

In my psych class years ago, my professor said, 'love and fear have exactly the same feelings,' and ever since that has always stayed with me.

I can see where the excitement would be very similar, but fear has a distinctive sensation that it's only capable of offering, at least for me.

Anyway, please enjoy.

Thanks for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following.

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Bella-

As soon as I returned home I went straight for the vibrator in my night drawer. With every flutter of the smooth tip against my clit, I imagined his touch, his voice whispering next to my ear, his tongue tracing the shell.

Pinching my nipples, I stared down at the street where he stood, and I almost—almost waved him up. I didn't however, letting the tip of the toy roll against my hard nub, each spark hitting the right spot. I could barely keep my eyes open as wave after wave of sensation crashed through me.

I bit my lip hard to withhold the cries erupting from my throat as his hand delved inside his mesh shorts. I could see the bulge moving as he fucked his hand, and every nerve ending in my body wound tight, threatening to explode.

His cock would be large, and dangerous like the rest of him. Smooth. Sharp. Strong.

I could almost feel him sliding deep inside me, his broad chest against my back as he bucked inside me. Riding me. Riding me fast and hard.

Just the fantasy was enough to hurtle me into space. My body melted as my soul shattered, and it was all I could do to keep him in focus.

I watched his eyes close briefly before looking into my window. His jaw clenched, his hand moving faster as he sped toward his own release. When his body convulsed and he visibly shivered, victory was mine.

I did that. I made him feel that. He was thinking of me when he masturbated outside my window.

As the pleasure faded, I glanced away from the man leaning against the wall toward my cell. I'd started avoiding Mike's messages, dodging his calls, and when he suggested meeting for a date, I found whatever excuse I could to get out of it.

I contemplated ending things with him. Mike was a good guy. He didn't deserve my avoidance. He didn't deserve my disloyalty or my lack of interest.

It was insane. Crazy. First-hand loony bin worthy. How could I seriously want to end my relationship with my boyfriend over a stalker?

Maybe because he was right. I enjoyed it. I enjoyed being stalked. I was seriously starting to question my sanity.

It was raw. It was mysterious. It was sexy as fuck. To be wanted so much that you entirely consumed another person.

Regardless of how intriguing it was, I couldn't end my relationship with Mike for a guy who might get bored with me tomorrow.

Combing my hair over my shoulder, I moved away from the window and moved deeper into the apartment. Considering I was on the third floor, it was highly unlikely he could even see me from where he stood. I plucked the discarded plum-colored sports bra off the floor, I grabbed my jogging shorts as I headed to the bathroom.

He was right. I had worn these clothes for him. I wanted him to see more of me, touch more of me, maybe even taste me.

I was seriously losing my fucking mind, and I wasn't dumping my boyfriend over a stalker.

Turning the shower on the hottest water I could stand, I stepped under the steamy onslaught, rolling my shoulders, attempting to collect what remained of my sanity.

I didn't care what he said, I wasn't wearing a skirt and thong for him. Soaking my hair, I reached for the shampoo, determined to rid my mind of his drugging allure.

He was nobody to me.

Bullshit, my conscience sang. He was the man capable of getting me wet with only a look. He inspired this electricity I'd never experienced.

I still felt his finger on me. His breath. His warmth.

Rinsing the body wash from my tits, I glared down at the flesh pebbling at the thought of him. I wasn't this weak. I swear. I would be strong. I would be faithful to Mike. We'd probably get married eventually and have a boring little life right outside of the city.

Just the thought had me cringing in the shower. Leaning my forehead against the cool tile, I closed my eyes. I didn't want that boring little marriage, with a boring man, and I didn't want some boring little life in the suburbs.

I turned the water off and left the shower. Wrapping a plush towel around my breasts, I headed into my bedroom and went straight for the window.

I didn't want my boring ass boyfriend because I wanted my sexy ass stalker.

What would he do if I followed his instruction? I wouldn't know if I didn't. With this thought in mind, I headed straight for my closet.

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