The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

JASON POV:

Stalker much? Damn right I am—but only for her. I know it’s crazy, and hell, I probably need help. Nah, scratch that—I need her. This was ridiculous. What the hell was I doing here? So, this was the dump where she lived. I had followed her back after a day of pretending she didn’t exist. So much for ignoring her. It had taken everything in me not to glance her way today.

But here I was, watching her from the shadows like some kind of psycho. What the fuck was wrong with me?

I watched her walk up to her door, locking it behind her as if that flimsy piece of wood could keep anything—or anyone—out. The neighborhood was a shithole, and the thought of her living here only added to my frustration.

Okay, little blue eyes, you still owe me. She had defied me, ignored my warnings, and now she was going to pay for it. I could spread the rumor I’d dug up about her—the one about how she supposedly slept around to get admitted to this campus. It would destroy her reputation. Hell, it might even get her kicked out. But for some reason, I wasn’t ready to go that far. At least, not yet.

I stepped up to her door, hesitating for just a second before knocking. Would she dare open her door this late at night, in this godforsaken neighborhood? I wondered if she even had the sense to be afraid.

Or maybe she was just as wild as I thought.

I knocked again. Still no answer. I knocked for the third time, more persistent now. Then, finally, I heard her sweet voice call out, "Who is it?"

I didn’t bother answering her. I kept knocking. One thing I knew for sure—curiosity killed the cat. And today, it was going to bring her to me.

She shouted through the door again, her voice more irritated this time. "I’m warning you, I’m armed!"

Then, at last, the door swung open. And damn, did the sight of her make it worth the wait.

She stood there, clad in tiny sleeping shorts and a top that left very little to the imagination. No bra, obviously, and her wet, wavy hair fell wild around her shoulders. I couldn’t help the rush of heat that flooded through me. Her eyes were fierce, wild even, but flashed with surprise when she saw it was me.

She clutched a frying pan in one hand, ready to beat the crap out of whoever was on the other side of her door. The sight almost made me laugh, but I was too busy being turned on by her disheveled beauty.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" she yelled at me, her voice sharp and biting.

I just smirked, leaning against her doorframe.

"Nice weapon of choice," I teased, my eyes dropping to the frying pan. She glared, gripping it tighter, clearly not in the mood for jokes.

She tried to slam the door in my face, but I was quicker, blocking it with my shoe just before it closed. "Not so fast," I said with a smirk. "That’s not a nice way to treat your guest, Blue."

With a firm push, I opened the door wide, easily overpowering her attempt to keep me out. She wasn’t weak, but she was no match for me. As soon as I stepped inside, she launched at me, swinging the frying pan with every intention of knocking me out cold.

I was fast, though, catching her wrist just in time. "C’mon, El, that’s not nice," I teased, my voice low as I drew her closer to me.

Her body slammed into mine, soft yet tense as she tried to wriggle free. My other arm wrapped around her waist, locking her in place. I could feel her heartbeat racing against my chest, her breath quickening as she glared up at me, those deep blue eyes burning with fury.

"Let me go," she hissed through gritted teeth, struggling in my grip.

But instead of letting her go, I leaned down, our faces inches apart. "What’s the rush, Blue?" I whispered, my lips dangerously close to hers.

She tensed beneath my touch, and I felt the slight shiver that ran through her body. It was subtle, but enough to let me know I was affecting her. Even if she tried to deny it. She squirmed again, and I tightened my grip, my breath coming out in short, ragged bursts. Her chest was pressed against mine, and I could feel every curve of her.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you," I whispered, my voice low and deliberate. My heartbeat was racing, and I knew she could feel it. Her breasts were crushed against me, every breath making them rise against my chest.

With a swift motion, I spun her around, pinning her against the door. My body caged hers, both of her wrists trapped above her head in my grip. The position made her arch, her body reacting to the pressure. Every part of her was pressed against me, and I could feel the heat radiating from her as I trapped her between me and the door.

I grabbed the frying pan from her hand, tossing it to the floor with a clatter. She wriggled again, her eyes blazing with anger as she spat out, "Stupid bast—"

But she stopped mid-sentence when I positioned myself between her legs, my hips pressing against her in a way that made her body respond involuntarily. I could see the realization flicker in her eyes, her resolve crumbling just a bit.

"I told you to stop moving," I growled into her neck, my lips grazing the soft skin. Her breath hitched, and I couldn’t help but smirk as I felt her body tense and release at the same time. She let out a soft, breathy moan as I pressed myself against her, letting her feel the heat of my arousal through my jeans as I rubbed against her.

Her body responded instinctively, and for a moment, I could feel her melting into me, her breath catching, her pulse quickening. The tension between us was thick, and it was impossible to ignore how much she affected me.

Parting her legs with my own, I positioned myself firmly between them, the friction sending shockwaves through both of us. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the sharp intake of her breath, her body reacting instinctively to the closeness, to the way I was settled against her. Her pulse was racing beneath my fingers, her breathing ragged and uneven.

"What did I tell you not to do?" I whispered hoarsely, my lips brushing against her ear before sucking on her earlobe, tasting her. She was sweet—damn sweet—and I wanted more. Needed more.

"Not to go out with Dylan," she breathed, her voice husky, dripping with desire. Fuck, even her voice was seductive, pulling me deeper into this twisted, intoxicating game we were playing.

"And... what... did... you... do?" I growled into her ear, each word punctuated with a slow, deliberate thrust of my hips. Her soft moan in response nearly undid me, sending a surge of heat through my body.

"Fucking hell, Jason!" she cursed, her voice thick with desire and frustration. I could feel her melting, giving in, but that wasn’t enough. I wanted her to say it. I needed to hear her admit it.

"Not the answer I wanted," I taunted, stopping my movements, the loss of friction making her curse again. This time, her voice was laced with desperation, and she squirmed against me, trying to get that connection back.

She was frustrated, her body screaming for the release I’d just stolen away from her. Watching her like this, knowing I had that control, that I could make her feel this way, was addicting.

"Say it," I demanded, my voice low and dangerous, my lips brushing against her neck, teasing her skin.

She was trembling beneath me, caught in a storm of frustration and desire. And I wasn’t letting her go until she gave me what I wanted.

"I went out with Dylan," she yells, her voice laced with frustration clearly frustrated that I had immobilized her from moving sorting the relief she wanted. I kept her pinned, her wrists trapped above her head. I can feel the tension rolling off her, her body trembling beneath my grip.

"Good," I murmur, my voice low as I move my hand to her chest, squeezing one of her breasts. Her breath catches, and I hear the soft, involuntary moan that escapes her lips. My thumb and forefinger pinch her sensitive tit, rolling it between them as she lets out another sweet, breathless sound.

"Now I have to punish you for that," I say, leaning in until my lips crash against hers. Her lips, so soft and familiar, awaken something raw in me.

My hand slides down her body, past her stomach, slipping into her shorts. She’s already drenched, her body betraying her need. My fingers find her clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. She moans again, her hips instinctively arching, pressing her throbbing heat against my hand.

It takes everything in me to maintain control, but I give her what she’s been craving. Sliding a finger inside her, I feel her tense, her body reacting immediately as I start to move—slow at first, then faster, harder. Each thrust makes her gasp, each moan louder than the last. She’s panting now, calling my name as I drive her closer to the edge, her body trembling beneath me.

I suddenly stop just as she’s teetering on the edge before she could come, her body tensing in frustration from the denial release.

"What the hell?" she exclaims, snapping her eyes open, breathless. Her glare could burn a hole through me, but I just smirk, releasing her wrists from my grip.

"That’s your punishment," I say, my tone steady as I step back. Her response is instant—a flurry of curse words that would make anyone else flinch, but I stand there, still grinning.

Without breaking eye contact, I bring my two fingers to my mouth, slowly sucking them clean, savoring the taste of her. Her tirade falters as her gaze intensifies, her anger shifting into something darker, something far more dangerous. For a moment, the air between us is electric, charged with the desire I’ve just denied her.

"Well," I say, stepping back and pulling the door open, "let’s call it a night."

Her eyes widen in disbelief as I walk out, leaving her on the edge of release, still fuming and wanting more.

As soon as I’m outside, I run a hand through my hair and adjust my pants, my body still throbbing with its own frustrated need. "Fuck," I mutter under my breath, realizing I might have punished myself more than her.

Cold water... here I come.