His Captive BrideHot
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Suzanne Steele Updated April 04, 2015
May 13, 2014
17 and Up
Drake: I've never met a woman like her that wears her heart on her sleeve. She came down here to feed the hungry and help the poor. I knew that she was going to get hurt or worse yet killed so I began stalking her. I'm not a nice man; I'm not a good man, she sealed her fate the day that she came into my neighborhood. I never planned on stalking her, I never planned on her becoming an obsession that I wouldn't be able to shake. She is the curve ball that life threw me and I am the darkness that she has been taught to avoid; like I said: she sealed her fate the day that she came into my neighborhood. 'Mid-Way' Mandissa: There he is again. He doesn't even try to hide the fact that he watches me. He stares through me, as if he knows all of my dirty little secrets. He looks at me, as if he can read all of my emotions, but yet for some reason, I can't seem to get 'a read' on him. I steal a glance at the young man leaned against the building in the black leather jacket, I try to size him up. His face is granite. There really is no other way to describe the bone structure of it. His skin is white, not pale, but white, and yet he appears to be of Latin descent. Suddenly it hits me, he is Spaniard. His tousled black wavy hair and black eyes, along with his stance against the building, exude an attitude of not giving a shit. He simply couldn't care less. He couldn't care less that I'm fully aware of him. I am also aware of the fact that he stalks me. I don't know what to feel, all that I do know: is that when he is near...I feel...