Staking Her Claim...: Book 1 in the Patricks' Brothers series (25 page)

Let’s face facts. A; a stalker willing to go days, a week almost, between terrorizing their target isn’t particularly devoted to the cause. B; sending twisted love notes to the ex-boyfriend of your obsession because you’re too much of a pussy to send them to her yourself makes you a coward. And, C; anyone stupid enough to leave fingerprints on a special delivery designed to terrify someone deserves to be caught. How do I know there are prints on the note that came with the flowers? Easy. Baby powder is a miraculous thing. It’s especially useful when you don’t have a forensics kit handy.

“You could say that,” I answer. “Boiling what we’ve got down, and that’s not a lot, I’d say it’s safe to assume Harper’s the primary, not the secondary as we were led to believe. Other than that, we’ve got absolutely nothing.”

“Right, so Harper is the target, we’re no closer to a lead, and his behavior is escalating. Fucking excellent,” Brookes rages. “Tell me what the bastard sent and we’ll take it from there. I still don’t see the point in bringing Harper in on this until there’s no other choice, but apparently you know something I don’t or you wouldn’t have said it, so out with it.”

There’s no way easy way to tell him this other than to just come out with it. So, here goes nothing. Cross your fingers for me that he doesn’t kill the messenger.

“The package came in at nine this morning like I said. Andre, the kid who delivered it is nineteen years old, lives at home with his Mom, barely graduated high school, and decided to forego college, instead opting for the glamorous job as a delivery boy. No priors. Not even a parking ticket. He’s clean. I had Rob run his name through the DMV, it came back he drives a piece of crap nineteen-ninety-nine, Toyota registered to a Sally DeMarco, his Mom I assume.”

“Okay, so the courier’s clean, and?”

“Andre wasn’t particularly forthcoming in the beginning, but after having an intimate conversation with the business end of my Sig, I think we bonded because he would shut up. In saying that, he gave me nothing of substance. In Bloom, the florist that filled the order is part of the, Flowers Across the Globe, corporation. In other words, they’re one of around six and a half thousand florists that pay an annual registration fee to be included on an active register the corporation works from. Basically, there are three central offices which assign the jobs that are submitted via their website. From what I’ve found out, and bear in mind, I’ve only been on this for an hour, the call centers do get some phone traffic, but the vast majority comes from online submissions.”

Now for the hard part.

“I found it interesting that the note, Andre handed me didn’t come in the standard florist’s envelope stamped with their logo, which led to our little chat. Apparently, the note was left on the doorstep of the florist shop before opening hours with instructions on what to do with it. That’s what had me chasing down the info on Flowers Across the Globe. It was a dead end, though. The call center operators aren’t required to make memos about who calls in to check which florist they were assigned. Not to mention, their phone system is so outdated that there’s no chance in hell of tracking where the call originated, or who it was routed to.”

Digital phone systems, which handle large numbers of incoming and outgoing calls such as the Commander PBX system we use at, EyeSee are capable of storing and tracing the last hundred received or dialed calls. In our business, and a lot of others, that technology is priceless, but for companies like Flowers Across the Globe who aren’t dealing with sensitive information, it’s seen as an unnecessary expense.

“Essentially, this, the stalker being located locally, is a good thing. It narrows down the search radius at least, but aside from getting a hit off the fingerprints, we’re no closer to having a possible lead, unfortunately.”

Sick of waiting, Brookes breaks into my explanation of this morning’s events, demanding,

“Out with it, Aly. I know you’re stalling, and albeit you’ve done good work so far today, I want to know what the note said.”

Rolling my eyes at his impatience, I take a steadying breath before obliging him.

“The flowers were sent as a crude attempt at symbolism. A dozen red roses, the buds of which had been dyed black, severed at their connection to the stem is nothing if not cliché, but creepy nonetheless. However, creepy doesn’t begin to describe the contents of the note, Brookes. Disturbing or fucking scary would be better words for what it is.” And then, I read him the letter.

Dearest Harper,

I saw you yesterday. You looked so beautiful in your baby blue dress, but at the same time, you looked so very sad. No one as lovely as you should look so sad, Harper. I could make you smile, make you happy if only you’d let me. I know we’d be good together, in fact, I can promise you we would.

I’ve been watching you for so long now that I think I know everything about you. I know what your favorite food is, your favorite color, where you go when you want to relax, and what type of movies you watch. I even know that when you’re stressed, you like to take a hot bath with vanilla bath salts. You shouldn’t stay in for so long, though Harper. I hate seeing your perfect skin pruned and wrinkly.

It’s time we meet. I’ve been patient. I’ve watched and waited for you to come to me, but you haven’t and now your time has run out. When I come for you, you better be ready for me, because we have a lot of lost time to make up for.

If you decide to fight coming with me, I’ll make you suffer, Harper. I don’t want to hurt you, remember that, but I will if I have to. Consider this your only warning, because I don’t want to waste my time repeating myself when we’re finally together like we always should have been.

My cock has been so hard thinking about all the things I’m going to do to you. I want to tie you up spread eagle to my bed. I need to see your skin turn black and blue at the touch of my hand. I’m going to fuck you raw, hard, in every one of your holes, and you’re going to love it and beg for more. I’ve bought some special tools to use on you too, Harper. Tools you’ll be acquainted with before you know it, and you’ll love those too.

Be a good girl, Harper, and I’ll see you soon. Very soon…

Yours,

X

“Jesus fucking Christ. Fuck me, Aly,” Brookes hisses.

“Yeah, that’s about the size of it,” I agree. “This is why we need to talk to Harper, big brother. I’m all for keeping the specific details of what’s in the note from her, but she needs to know there’s a threat to her safety out there. She can’t be vigilant if she doesn’t know it exists,” I say attempting to reason with him.

“She’s moving in with me,” Brookes replies, his tone brokering no room for discussion.

“I don’t disagree that she shouldn’t be at home alone, but good luck with that, because from what I’ve seen lately, Harper’s not your biggest fan. I don’t think she’s going to agree with you
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uprooting her life and moving in with you without a damn good reason.” And that’s a massive understatement if there ever was one.

I know Harper better than anyone, and she is going to dig her heels in if Brookes uses the heavy-handed approach, he’s known for. The result of those two going head-to-head, while highly entertaining, would be similar to having teeth pulled and open heart surgery at the same time, without anesthetic. In other words; fucking horrifying.

After knowing each other since they were kids, Brookes and Harper don’t pull any punches when it comes to arguing. They approach fighting like most people would a drunken one-night-stand; fast, furious, rough. In the end, someone is always left wondering what the hell were they thinking, and tries to sneak off before the other person notices they’ve disappeared.

“I’ll think about it, Aly, but that’s the best I can do. But for your information, I don’t intend to give her much of a choice. My place has an alarm, it’s gated, and security patrols pass by every hour. She’ll be safe here, and whether she knows it or not, this is the best place for her until we sort this out.”

Brookes lives in, Lakewood, one of the more affluent Dallas suburbs. Houses there run upward of eight hundred thousand dollars and come with the perks you’d expect from living in such as upmarket area. It’s not my style, but Brookes likes his space and the anonymity that comes with living in the suburbs. It’s not far from, Downtown and the office was another selling point too.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely agree Harper would be safe staying with him, I just don’t think it’s going to happen if he doesn’t come clean with her. And if on the off chance she does go semi-willingly – because honestly, Brookes would move her kicking and screaming if he had to – she will be livid. Not to mention, she’ll probably hold a grudge against him for the rest of her natural life when she finds out why she’s there in the first place. But that’s his problem. He’s the boss so it’s up to him whether he tells her or not.

“Fine, but I’m warning you, Brookes, you better be good to my friend or nothing will save you from the ass kicking I intend to give you if you’re not,” I say, putting him on notice.

“I hear you, Cupcake, but it’s me you should be worried about, not her. She’s stronger than you think, and I’ve got no doubt she’ll kick my ass plenty for this, but I’ll take that chance if it means she’s safe. Can you get those prints over to Simon A-SAP? I’ll call ahead and make sure he knows to expect them.”

“I’ll get Rob to run them over,” I reply without thinking.

“I take it he’s there then? I hope you know what you’re doing with him, Aly. He’s not the same guy he was back when we knew him, and he’s got a metric ton of fucking baggage that comes with him.”

“Let’s leave it at this; I’ll answer your questions about Rob and me, when you answer mine about you and Harper,” I offer congenially, hedging my bets he won’t be willing to discuss that anytime soon.

“Touché,” Brookes grumbles.

After a short goodbye, and the promise Simon will have what he needs within the hour, Brookes hangs up, leaving me to my thoughts.

Three hours later, I’m still no closer to having any answers, but I am a hell of a lot more confused. Why would a guy, who for all intents and purpose has been clever up until now, all of a sudden he risks being discovered by leaving a fingerprint we could trace? Not to mention, how closely has he been watching Harper if he knows which kind of bath salts she uses?

But the better question is; if he’s surveilling her, stalking her, then why doesn’t he know about EyeSee’s involvement? I don’t have the answers to any of those questions, but I’ll be damned if I won’t get them eventually. But for now, I’ve got better things, or should I say, a better person to do. 

Alysia and I being together the way I’ve always dreamed we would one day still doesn’t feel real to me. Sometimes I wonder if I close my eyes for too long that she’ll disappear, taking me heart with her when she does. There are times, in the dead of night I wake up and spend hours just watching her sleep.

I lay on my side admiring the fall of her thick, dark lashes like crescent moons against the pale skin of her cheeks. Using my fingertips, I trace the shell of her ear, long line of neck and down the curve of her shoulders to the swell of her perfectly round, large breasts.

Her bubblegum pink nipples react to my touch even in slumber, tightening as if they’re begging for me to suck them into the hot recess of my mouth. The further I go, the more of her supple flesh I expose, the more I want her to open the part of her heart to me. Neither of us has said the words yet, so I can’t blame her entirely for holding back seeing as I too, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear them.

Initially, the fear I had surrounding telling her I loved her was that it might push her away. She wasn’t ready to hear me profess the depth of the love I have for her when I first felt it. I don’t know if she’s prepared to hear them now, but with every day that passes it’s getting harder and harder to hold it inside.

Trailing my palm down the flat expanse of her toned belly, I allow myself to consider what she would look like swollen with my child. The image that flickers in front of me is so vivid it feels as if I reached out I’d be able to touch it.

Alysia is standing, hip propped against the railing of a porch that wraps around a ranch style home complete with porch swing and window boxes filled with flowers. The house is painted an off-white with blue shutters and trim. Fields of green grass as far as the eye can see surround the house on all four sides, the only exception being the winding, tree-lined, gravel driveway that approaches the house from the north. The yard is barren but for a swing set and sandbox, but the supplies for a treehouse are lined up along the side of the house in neat piles.

Turning to face the woman who deserves nothing shy of my full attention, I rake my gaze over Alysia, drinking in her beauty. Barefoot, wearing a pale green dress that reaches her ankles made of soft cotton, Alysia’s raven hair is long and free-flowing almost reaching her waist now. Her gorgeous violet eyes dance with humor as she gifts me with one of her rare smiles. One of the honest ones.

“Hi, handsome,” she murmurs, walking toward me.

“Where am I, Sweetness?” I ask, fearing how cruel it would be if the life I’ve always wanted for us were only a dream.

Throwing her head back, Alysia lets out a low, throaty laugh that raises the hair on the back of my neck and has gooseflesh popping up along my arms. Every time I hear her laugh it has this effect on me. Her laughter truly is an alluring mix of intoxicating and aphrodisiac for me.

Alysia’s laughter eventually fades, leaving only the sounds of the rustling leaves in the trees along the driveway, and the soft whisper of a breeze that caresses my skin like the most tender kiss.

“Rob,” Alysia prompts, refocusing my attention on her again. “You asked where you are. Does that mean you don’t know? That you can’t feel it?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Sweetness. Feel what?” I ask, becoming more confused by the second.

“Look around you, what do you see?”

“A house with a huge yard and a porch swing,” I answer quietly. “I’m not sure what else I’m supposed to be seeing, Aly. Am I missing something?”

Chuckling, she nods.

“Yes, you are, honey. Your forgetting to open yourself up to feel,” Alysia says cryptically.

Taking a moment to try, I close my eyes and tip my head back until the heat of the sun warms my face.

“I feel at peace,” I reply, meaning it.

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Good, because you’re where you’re supposed to be, Rob. You’ve finally come home, Baby,” Alysia whispers, as her image and everything around me fades into obscurity.

Shaking myself free of my daydream, I push the sheet covering Alysia’s lower half down to the end of the bed until the entirety of her beautiful body is sprawled out, naked and bare for me to explore.

Beginning at the inside of her ankles, I trail my fingers up the lithe expanse of calves until I reach her thighs. Ghosting my palm over the scarred flesh at her hip, I firm my touch a little so my hands warm her quickly cooling skin. Dipping my head to taste her, inhaling the sweet scent of her strawberry body wash before I do, I alternate between licking and kissing up the outside her thighs to her hip bones.

Tracing a line across her lower belly with my tongue, I sense the moment Alysia wakes up. Her breathing has changed now, turning into soft pants that exhale small puffs of air with each one. Pressing a soft kiss to the top of her mound, I ask,

“Tell me what you want, Sweetness.”

Alysia props herself up on her elbows blinking the haze of sleep from her eyes, and hums low in her throat.

“I want you to lick me.”

“Where do you want me to lick you, Baby?” I ask, running a thick finger up and down her already dripping slit. I love that she’s so responsive to my touch. Always wet and ready for me.

“Oh, oh, yes. Inside me, Rob. I want you to put your fingers inside me and make me come,” she moans softly, as I circle the entrance to her pussy with two fingers.

Grinning at her wickedly, I drop my head and inhale the musky scent of her pussy before using my tongue to outline her labia.

“Fuck, you smell so good, Sweetness. I could spend days eating your beautiful, pink pussy and never grow tired of your taste,” I growl, darting my tongue out to collect a drop of her cream that’s trying to escape and drip down her inner thigh.

There’s nothing as good as the smell, taste, and feel of a woman’s pussy. Before Alysia, I didn’t make a habit of eating women out. Not because I don’t love the act because I do. It’s fucking hot, watching from the driver’s seat as your woman comes apart beneath your fingers and tongue, bathing your hand in wetness as her come coats your tongue and slides down your throat.

Not all men get off on the act as much as I do. Shit, I got so worked up licking Alysia’s sweet pussy clean the other day, I blew all over her mound before I could get inside her.

However, in saying that, I’ve met a few men in my time who have shared that they downright despise the act and prefer to skip straight to the fucking. To me, though, there is nothing better than being able to pleasure your woman in every way possible. Being able to taste it her essence on your tongue, lick your lips and savoring them for hours afterward, there’s nothing in the world sexier than that.

Feeling Alysia’s thighs wrap around my head as she squeezes me tight, her body undulating under the rough scrape of the stubble on my jaw, rubbing herself desperately against my mouth to get herself off faster is a potent, hard on inducing feeling.

Knowing I’m bringing her so much pleasure she can’t help but scream my name feeds my ego. It isn’t an entirely selfless act, though. Getting your woman nice and wet for you, so that when you’re about ready to burst your cock slides into her pussy without any resistance is a powerful motivator.

Alysia whimpers, grinding her drenched pussy further against my face as I suction my mouth onto her labia, sucking hard. Using the two fingers, I was rimming her entrance with, I plunge them inside and feel her begin to throb around them instantly.

“Honey, I’m coming. Oh, God, Rob. Yes,” she screams, her words echoing off my bedroom walls as she falls apart.

I’m not finished, though. Not even close.

Rubbing my thumb through her juices that have collected on my palm, I continue moving my fingers in and out of her in a steady rhythm as I circle the tight rosette of her ass with my now well-lubricated thumb.

“Rob, honey,” Alysia stutters, her voice wavering as she comes down from her high.

“Yeah, Sweetness,” I enquire.

“I, I need…” she shudders, stammering incoherently.

“I know what you need, Aly. Do you trust me, Baby? Do you believe I’ll take care of you and make you feel good?” I ask, knowing she’ll say yes.

Mumbling under her breath, she replies,

“Mmhmm.”

Two fingers, to the last knuckle, as deep as they can go inside her spasming, wet cunt, I breach her ass with my thumb, needing to pin her hips to the bed to stop her from hurting herself.

“Lie still, Aly. Your virgin ass will be hurting tomorrow if you don’t.”

And, it’s true, it will.

I’ve only attempted anal with two women who weren’t Alysia, and both of their experiences with it, which in turn me had me give up trying ass play again until now. I’m not a small man, and even though I take great care to prepare a woman to take my cock in her ass, using her own natural lubricant and the bottled stuff, it’s not always enough.

A woman’s ass is not like her pussy. It doesn’t stretch the same way to accommodate a ten-inch cock with an almost fist sized girth. You need to train a woman’s ass, working up to the main event slowly.

Both of Alysia’s hands fly to my head, her fingers gripping my hair as she tugs desperately at it trying to find purchase. One last brush of my stiffened tongue over her distended bud, my thumb deep in her ass putting pressure on a whole new set of nerve endings, and two fingers probing the damp flesh of her pussy sends, Alysia flying.

Snapping, because I can’t handle not being inside her for a minute longer, I rip my fingers from her pussy and lick them clean. Thank fuck I sleep naked because I don’t think I have the coordination to strip. My hands are shaking, I’m that worked up. My aching cock is weeping at the possibility of going home. So much so, I know this isn’t going last long as I want it too. Alysia is too gorgeous, too delicious, she drives me fucking insane with lust.

Fisting my cock and giving it a few hard tugs, pre-come leaks from the crown. Using that to my advantage, I roughly rub my palm over the head making sure it’s nice and lubed up. As I begin to push into her slowly, I hear the sweet cadence of her voice reach my ears.

“I think I’m falling for you, Rob. Please don’t break my heart if I trust it to you because I don’t believe I can put the pieces back together again if you do. I’m not that strong,” she whispers, a tear leaking from the corner of her eye.

She looks so sincere, yet so unsure of herself it physically pains me to see her like this. An ache building in my chest, I growl,

“I’m not falling in love with you, Sweetness, I already have. I’m so far gone, I can barely breathe with wanting you. I’m yours if you want me, Baby. All you have to do is take my hand and let me take care of you the way you deserve.”

Alysia’s insecurities melt away as her radiant smile appears. Holding my breath, I wait to see what she does next. Will she take my hand or will she keep fighting what she knows is inevitable?