Being followed by a man should be creepy, but when he’s sexy as sin, it’s time to find out what he wants.
For a couple of weeks a man’s been following me. I’m sure it isn’t because I’m interesting—I lead a boring life. So when I finally find the courage to ask him what he wants, his response isn’t what I expect.
He thinks I’m someone else and that I need rescuing and protecting. The fact that I’m not who he thinks I am makes no difference—another man also thinks I’m this mysterious woman and is out to do me harm.
I have a choice. I can go with the first man and trust that he’ll keep me safe, or I can return home and let the second man kill me. It’s a no brainer, right? Now, all I need to do is get through the next few days without ripping the sexy man’s clothes off, because, oh my God, do they ever need ripping off…
General Release Date: 9th June 2015
I was sick of this bloke following me. Every time I turned around lately, there he was, either in the shadows or right there in plain sight. I didn’t think he fancied me. No, there was some other reason if his frown and narrowed eyes were anything to go by. This man looked menacing, the kind of fella who belonged in the darkness stalking women.
So why wasn’t I scared? If I were honest, to begin with I had been. I mean, what woman wouldn’t freak out when realizing she was being followed? When each shift of the head to glance over the shoulder meant seeing some weirdo with tattoos up his arms and a ponytail sitting on his shoulder like a goddamn black-as-sin snake?
I wasn’t scared right now, though, because… Well, I was pissed off. He hadn’t approached me, hadn’t called out and said anything and didn’t seem intent on doing so. So what was his deal? What did he want?
I was determined to find out.
Ahead, High Street led to a couple of alleys that were home to shops that sold knick-knacks and specialist items. I wasn’t going to go down either of them in a hurry. They were usually deserted. I glanced around to see where it would be safest to stop walking.
A throng of shoppers gathered outside a fruit and vegetable stand, haggling for what appeared to be the largest melons on the planet. The stall owner belched out a string of patter, enticing eager buyers with how juicy his goods were. That put me off personally, but now wasn’t the time to let my mind wander farther into the gutter.
I had to confront the stalker man.
I strode to the edge of the crowd nearest to the stall, making out I was indeed interested in the fruit seller’s wares. I stroked his banana and a couple of plums, my mind wandering into dangerous territory. If I contemplated fully what that fruit reminded me of, I’d be in big trouble.
Sensing Stalker behind me, I moved my head a little to ensure it was him. God forbid I should lash out at an innocent person. Yes, there he was, right up my arse so to speak, as close as close could be. Any closer and his front would press against my back.
Now there was a thought…
Stop that. He could be a pervert, someone who wants to hurt me. Thinking about the rudies isn’t right in this situation.
I loved thinking about the rudies—it was the only thrill I got in the sexual department these days—but at the present moment I needed to concentrate on my welfare, not on his body warmth or his scent, heady and strong in the summer heat. Manly flowers—if there were such a thing, which there wasn’t—were what it reminded me of. A big fat blooming monstrosity that screamed bloke.
“You could bring a man to his knees the way you’re touching that banana.”
His voice—oh my goodness, what a streak of clichéd velvet, satin, silk, and all the softest materials I could imagine. It swarmed over me, infiltrating my skin until goosebumps popped up.
“And you could shit the life out of a woman the way you’re standing so close and saying things like that.”
Shit, I’d said shit, not the most ladylike of words, but bloody hell, he deserved a bit of my docker’s vocab.
“I’m standing so close because you’re being followed,” he said quietly.
I spun to face him, cheeks flushing with renewed anger, all thoughts of the rudies chased away. “No way! Really? I had no idea. How could I possibly know I’m being followed when you’re so big and brutish and stand out like no one’s business?”
“I’m not following you,” he said.
Natalie Dae is a multi-published author in three pen names writing in several genres. Natalie writes mainly BDSM erotica. She loves a Dom/sub relationship and is fascinated by how it all works. The trust issue is the best thing about it for her, so creating characters who have to adopt trust is one of her priorities. “Watching my characters bloom under tuition is such a treat,” she says. “I find it such a privilege to be able to write about something that makes me learn something new with every book.”
She lives with her husband and youngest daughter in England and spends her spare time reading—always reading!—and her phone, complete with Kindle app, is never far away. “I can't imagine not reading or writing,” she says. “It's a part of who I am. Without it I'd be more than a bit lost.”
Natalie has many more BDSM tales swimming around in her head, so her workload for the future is very full. “What better way to spend a weekend than writing?” she says. “Saturdays are my main writing days, so I get up, open up a work in progress and rarely leave the desk. Unless I really have to!”
She writes at weekends and is a cover artist/head of art in her day job. In another life she was an editor. Her other pen names are Geraldine O’Hara and Sarah Masters. Natalie also co-authors as Sarah Masters with Jaime Samms, and she co-authors with Lily Harlem under the name Harlem Dae.
Reviewed by Karen Shenton
The title of this book couldn't be more spot on. Deb has a stalker, maybe more than one. Eventually one of them reveals himself to her and he isn't exactly what she expects. The writing in this story is...
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Reviewed by Lily
Wow, this is a sassy read. It plays with boundaries - fancying your stalker - and has a great plot line. I adored the heroine, Deb, and her inner monologue, and Stalker (real name Cole) is just hot, hot,...
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Natalie Dae - BTSe Mag feature
I distinctly remember thinking as a child that when I grew up I’d know so much more and be so…with it. I’d be mature to the point that I could deal with every eventuality and exude this presence that meant I was one hell of a grown-up woman. How come that never worked out? LOL.
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