3: Gage.
When I wake up, she’s gone.
It’s like having a claw hammer buried in my skull.
I dive out of bed with a bellow, clutching at the sheets like I’m
going to find her hidden in there. Where the hell did she go?
Where the fuck did she go?
The anger has returned with a vengeance in her absence.
I scratch at my chest until blood shows up in angry welts. When
she was in my arms, the snakes were kept at bay. Now she’s
gone and they’re bigger, more vicious.
“Stella!”
I rampage through my apartment, knocking trophies off shelves. Pictures of me with the university president, the governor.
People who mean nothing to me.
There’s just her now. There’s only her.
Just before I reach the kitchen, I stumble to a stop in front of a
picture of my father. Standing beside me as confetti rains down,
the marching band behind us, batons raised. Gone. The only
- Gage.
other person to ever mean anything to me. Gone. The snake
fangs dig into my stomach with more force and I almost go.
down on my knees. Need her. I need her here now.
Do I even have her phone number?
My laughter doesn’t hold a single note of amusement. I brought
her here to live with me last night and I don’t even have her
phone number. Just an email address. I slide down the wall and
bury my face in my hands, trying to breathe through the chaos in
my head. Think. Think.
It’s not an easy feat. Thinking. I haven’t gotten my cock into her
yet and every cell in my body is blisteringly aware of that fact.
When we walked through my door last night, she was clinging to
me, so trusting, her angelic face softened in sleep and I couldn’t
do it. I couldn’t spread her legs open in my bed and fuck her the
way I need to. Rough and fast.
She had an orgasm from a couple licks of her nipples.
Sex with this girl is going to be phenomenal. I’m salivating for it. I’m planning the next fifty positions I’m going to take her tight Vittle body in. And there will be fifty more after that. Fifty more, fifty more, fifty more until the end of time, because she’s mine. She’s the antidote to the ugliness growing inside of me, so where the hell has she gone?
3: Gage.
Surging back to my feet, I tear at my hair, frustration burning up
my esophagus-
But then I see the note.
There is a paper with words on it taped to my refrigerator.
I don’t breathe until it’s in my hands. Until I’ve read the daintily
written script.
Good morning. I have political science at 8:20. Hope I see you
later. -Stella
“Hope I see you later?” I growl. “You hope?”
Political science. I have no idea which building. Which lecture
hall. There are barely any clues to go on here and I want to find her. Immediately.
I slap the note back onto the refrigerator so we can have a very serious discussion about it later. Preferably when she’s stuffed full of my cock, not a stitch of clothing on that body of hers. And I’ll inform her in no uncertain terms that there is no hope involved. There are no maybes in this relationship. She’s going to see me later every day for the rest of her life.
Not even bothering to attempt to calm myself down, I find my phone on the counter and dial administration, asking for the dean by his first name. The man wears my jersey number on the
- Gage.
sideline at games, so the secretary doesn’t hesitate to put me
straight through.
“Gage,” he answers, immediately. “How did the tutoring session
go with Ms. McCartney? If you don’t like her, we can find your
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