Hey! There's a content warning about the the second and third parts of this chapter in the description. Please read so you make an informed decision about reading this story! Hope you enjoy ;) 

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As a reformed stalker, I learned two things after meeting the object of my affection: 

1. The person you stalked and the person in real life are two completely separate individuals.
2. They are no longer desirable when they disappoint you, and the ick comes in.  (Think: Robert Patterson boring his stalker by complaining about his life.)

He made a literal shrine of me fashioned after the mother of Jesus—laying it on thick if you ask me—to symbolize his adoration. Really sweet, except there are two big problems: I’m not exactly a good person, and I’m infertile. 

Two dreams killed in one stone. The stone is me. 

He’s soooo gonna dump you when he realizes that you are single for a reason.

We almost had it all.

How did you manage to catch the eye of someone more delusional than you? 

That. That is the fucking karma of it all. Angel checks every box I have: hawt (in aura and charm), thoughtful (e.g., he bandaged my wound), and stable (in the sense of finances). 

The actual motherlode and soooo fucking out of my league. Sooner or later, this man will realize he chose the wrong woman, and I’ll be- 

~All by yourself. You're gonna be...all by yourself...forevermoooooore.~

No, no. We should do the Patti LaBelle one. ~On my own. Once again.~

Damn it!

Turning in his arms, I cup his face tightly, forcing Angel to look me in my eyes. 

“I know it’s-

“You really love me,” I ask, needing to hear it directed toward me, even if it’s not for the real me.

“With all my heart, baby,” Angel swears. His eyes drift to my lips, but he makes no move to close the distance. "Keisha, we...we shouldn't."

"I don't care." 

Still, he doesn't budge, and the internal war between desire and doing what's right is evident on his face. As his arms begin to slip, the worry of pushing me too far winning, I decide to make it clear what I want. Fisting the collar of his shirt, I smash our lips together. Maybe the warmth of our bodies flush together would sustain me after this falls apart. I was hungry for anything, everything, slipping my tongue in as he gasped. He doesn’t even put up a fight, submitting to my pace. I search every crevice in his mouth, teeth bumping as I more than metaphorically try to possess him. 

Pushing him up against the wall, I take no small amount of satisfaction as he whimpers. Yes, whimpers. I can work with this. 

Not caring if he had work tomorrow, I made a trail down his jaw and to his collar with bites that were not so little and nearly broke the skin. 

“My guardian Angel,” I whisper into his ear, chuckling as I watch the tip turn red. “You’d do anything for me, right?”

Dazed, he nods up and down like his life depends on it. 

“Then you’d be willing to get on your knees for me, yes?”

As soon as the words finish hitting the air, he’s dropping to the floor, nosing between my thighs but not making any other moves without permission. 

“Why don’t you show me,” I say, still hushing my voice so I wouldn’t startle him. “What you felt when you made this beautiful room?”