Her eyes widen as I rip open the buttons of her jeans. She squirms, kicking and screaming. Her strength is nothing against mine. All her resistance can’t stop me from punishing her now. I unzip her pants and pull them down with her panties below her ass. Then I shift my weight, my knee pressing between her thighs, parting them just enough to see the slickness of her pussy.
A needy growl seethes out of me. I’ve killed for this moment, just to worship at this altar. Her fear, her struggle, her unbidden arousal, all feed that primal hunger I have only for her.
This was always inevitable. She was created to be found by you, to be taken by you.
I hate that voice, but it’s right. “Yes. A masterpiece designed solely for me.”
“No—” she begins, but I press my thumb against her lips, silencing her.
“Shh. No more lies. Not when I can read the truth in your body. Not when I can taste your desire in the air between us.” My lips crash against hers—not gentle, not asking permission, but taking, claiming, branding.
Her surprised gasp melts into something hungrier, and her lips respond to mine with an eagerness that calls her out on her bullshit. When I pull away, her eyes are glazed, her lips parted in shock and need.
“That,” I murmur, “is what honesty feels like.” I taste her rain-stained skin, her cheek, her jaw, and leave a trail all the way down to her pussy. My whole body trembles, not with hesitation but with the overwhelming power of having her completely at my mercy, pinned and helpless beneath me, with the sight of her wet pussy that is all mine to finally own.
With my fist on her throat, I press my lips to her pussy. My first taste of heaven. No, of hell. Her wetness in my mouth ignites all my vices at once. Possession, hunger, violence, a savage need to claim what I’ve hunted for so long.
Groaning, I devour her. I lap my tongue inside, outside, over and under many times like a depraved animal until I savoredevery drop. Only then do I come down from my feverish delight and realize she’s not fighting me anymore. She’s moaning with me, moving into my mouth, needing more.
“No, butterfly. Last time, I let you come and denied myself pleasure.” I pull down my mask. “Today, it’s a different story.” Then I work my pants and pull my cock out. She wriggles as my hardness pries its way between her thighs. I take my hand off her throat and pin down both of her wrists. “I’m not gonna fuck you either. I’ve made you so horny you’re gonna come all over my cock in no time. You don’t get to come today…but I do.”
She protests when I slide the tip inside her. Then, when I rub myself, teasing her to the point of whimpering, her protests turn into pleas.
“Yeah, little slut, beg for my cock. Beg for your stalker to fuck you like an animal. Beg to make you my little bitch. Isn’t that what you want? A fucked up monster to pursue you, chase you and make you his fucktoy when he catches you, to show you what it is to be loved by a predator?”
Her moans grow louder, pumping fire through my veins. My breath catches as my fist works faster, and I know I’m tormenting her clit.
“Last time I was in your bed, what were you going to say before they cut us off?”
“What?” she moans again.
“When I counted how many times your pussy clenched to orgasm…” My balls grow heavier. I’m so close. “I thought you’d think it was sick or plain psycho, but you were about to say something else. What was it?”
“I’m never going to tell you.” She arches her hips, trying to take more of me inside her. But I don’t let her. Just when she rubs herself around my shaft, I pull out and choke her again.
I howl at the thunderous sky. Angrily, my cum spurts all over her, on her pussy, on her stomach, on her neck, on her cheek.
I marvel at the sight of my marked prey sprawled beneath me, drowning in a need she denies, begging for a darkness she can’t resist, and a sated smile creeps under my mask. “That’s for hiding from me.” I tuck my cock back inside my pants and rise to my feet. Then I push my cum inside her pussy, where it belongs, and smear some of it over her lips before the rain washes it away. “And that’s for not answering me, lying to me and…believing I’m only a dark fantasy you can control.”
“I… You… This… is all in my head. It’s the only explanation.”
“Is it?”
The rain pelts harder, erasing the evidence of our encounter, the mud, the sweat, the tears. But it can’t wash away the connection that binds us—predator and prey, stalker and stalked, two damaged souls orbiting the same dark star. Two broken pieces that only together are whole.
“Until next time, my butterfly.” The forest swallows me as I become one with the darkness and rain. But not before I glimpse the war in her eyes—anger battling desire, fear wrestling with longing, madness defying sanity. She can deny me with her words all she wants, but her body has already surrendered.
The next time we meet, I won’t be wearing a mask, and I’ll claim every inch of what’s rightfully mine.
For now, the hunt continues.
CHAPTER 20
Birdie
I bolt upright, disoriented, my body damp with sweat. It’s pitch black. Where am I? Tristan’s name rips from my throat, raw and desperate.
A shadow moves in front of me.