Stalking the Dancer || 18+

Part Four - Billy

I look at Ray, expecting him to relay whatever she's just told him to the group, but it's a delicate voice laced with venom that speaks up. "You live downstairs?"

Her eyes don't waver from mine. I lift my chin in response and she wastes no time getting to the point, "You dug through my drawers, so it's my turn to dig through yours." Holy shit. Does she know what she just said? My cock is hard and the stinging in my back seems to be sending shockwaves straight to it. The irony isn't lost on me, but I'd be more than happy to let her dig through whatever she'd like. God damn, the visuals are pornographic gold.

"Let's go, little Dot." She stands instinctively, making my cock twitch at the way she followed my request. 

Expecting an easy exit was too good to be true with this group of assholes and the immediate protests from around the room proved it. Ray calmly interjects, his deep voice stopping the others mid-sentence, "Rome, go with 'em. You call me if he looks like he's gonna touch her." I hadn't heard Rome walk up behind me, but when I turned he was there. The three of us head out the front door and down the stairwell toward my place. My lungs are burning when we reach my door, I've been holding my breath hoping that I won't wake myself up from whatever wet dream I'm living. 

I throw the door open carelessly because I have no reason to keep it locked. I'm scarier than most things that could come through it, anyhow. Rome comes in behind me and my girl clicks her way into the living room on a pair of crutches someone must've given her. Dark auburn hair hangs around her face, framing it perfectly. I can't figure out how she makes even awkward movements look graceful, but I intend to try. I don't plan to leave a stone of her life unturned. My stomach flips at the thought of knowing her darkest secrets.

She stops abruptly and meets my waiting gaze. "Where would you like to start?" I say casually, trying to hide the fact that my heart could pump fuel into a rocketship with the way it's beating right now. Having her in my space has my mouth running dry, I can't resist watching her violate my privacy the same way I did hers. I want to see what she does, where she goes with this little charade before I fuck her senseless in my bed and make her my woman for the rest of this lifetime.

Her wide eyes scan the things she can see, slowly digesting the dark living room that doesn't see many visitors. "You're into gothic decor, huh?" She says with a smirk teasing at her lips. "It's more of a color scheme thing, but sure." I can't stop my eyes from flaring at her sudden boldness. She has every intention of taking charge and for now, I have every intention of letting her. "Bedroom." She says and I turn to lead her down the hall without hesitation. When I turn around Rome is nowhere to be seen but he quickly makes himself heard as he shouts after us, "High school rules, you two! Doors open and no funny business!"

"Did he just say 'funny business'?" Dorothy asks with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Afraid so, baby." Her skin flushes at my words, freckles splayed across her pink cheeks make her look like she's glowing. She doesn't waste time, heading straight to my dresser and opening the top drawer. I slowly move to the foot of my bed, sitting on the mattress, silently watching her rummage through my socks like a bear looking for food. I don't expect her to entertain me, conversation is a luxury that stalkers can't really afford. But she continues to surprise me, even now. "Have you always stalked people?" 

Straight to the point.

"Have you always danced?" I reply quietly, watching her back flex as she slams the top drawer shut and yanks the next open. I don't know if she'll take offense to answering her question with a question, but it's a risk I couldn't pass up. She starts picking through my undershirts, unfolding most of them as she goes. She hasn't missed a single opportunity for revenge and I can respect the shit out of that. "Yeah. Well, I guess so. My mom wanted me to play tee-ball as a kid, so I picked ballet just to spite her. Then I fell in love with it and couldn't stop dancing." She says, mindlessly reflecting on her childhood as she starts in on my folded pants. "Kinda the same thing for me, I guess." She stills at my words but doesn't make a move to look at me.

"You did it to spite your parents?" Her voice is quiet. She forces herself to keep digging through the open drawer in front of her and I can tell because she isn't looking at the things she's pulling out anymore. She's just mixing everything together as the gears in her head turn. 

"I did it to get away from my parents. Busied myself with other things, I guess." 

She turns toward me, her eyes on the black rug that covers most of my bedroom floor. "Why did you break in last night?" It's hushed but I barely make out her words. They send shockwaves straight to my cock, reverberating through my body. 

"You needed me." I shrug my shoulders slowly. Her eyes are on mine before she replies, "You needed me."  

I can't fight the smile that breaks across my face at her confirmation that she needed me just as badly as I had needed her last night. She raises an eyebrow at me, which makes my grin even wider. I don't know what I wanted her to be like, but the fire that burns in her surprises me at every turn. Unfortunately for her, playing with fire was one of my favorite hobbies as a kid and I think I'm rediscovering why.

"Tell me about your family." She beelines to my bedside table and pulls open the drawer. "Not much to speak of, the guys are the family I chose." I realize how abrupt I sound after the words leave my mouth, so I add, "My dad died when I was a teenager and my mom ditched out for the first dealer who offered her room in his bed. I've seen her here and there through the years, but she doesn't stay in one place long." 

She's emptying my bedside table onto my bedspread, tossing things haphazardly as she pulls them out of the nightstand. "Wow, is she doing okay?" That was not the response I was expecting. "She's not herself when she's not sober, so I can't really tell. Saw her last year and she looked alright. Can't help her if she doesn't want it, though. Learned that the hard way... a couple of times. Doesn't mean she's not great, I love the shit out of her," Dorothy cuts me off before I finish, "Yeah, I get that. Sometimes space is the healthiest thing you can give yourself." She pauses for a moment before doubling over in a fit of laughter. 

"What's so funny, little Doe?" I quip as she turns around, holding her stomach. She's trying to respond through little snorts and giggles but can't seem to catch her breath. After a few seconds, she manages, though. "I s'pose it's a waste of time to tell my stalker that space is healthy, you obviously don't care." Her smile dies halfway through her sentence, returning to the angry front she's been putting on since last night. The jitters in my stomach come to life at her fire, she isn't rolling with the punches, she's punching back. Her venom is a defense mechanism that is just as addicting as the rest of her. "I did, technically, give you plenty of space. The semantics aren't important, though. I know what I did is wrong and I'd like to apologize, but that would imply I intend to stop and that just isn't true." 

Her dark green eyes are stormy and full of an emotion I can't decipher. She quickly moves to the closet without saying a word and begins pulling shirts off of hangers one by one.