Page 9 of Theirs to Chase

“Such a beautiful little thing,” he coos, sinking two of his fingers into my warmth.

My legs tremble with desire, and my nipples stiffen underneath the fabric of my dress, as I meet the eyes of the mask, arching my spine for more pleasure. I’m blinded by the overwhelming lust taking over me.

His fingers are inside me, but he doesn’t move them, and I whimper at the loss of friction. I crave more, but his thumb merely strokes my clit. I buck my hips, seeking more, and his thumb strokes my clit that’s pulsating with need.

“Ride my fingers,” he whispers seductively, andfuck, I obey him, buckling my hips, using his hand to my liking. He’s slightly bent, accommodating to my shorter height.

I stand on my tiptoes, trying to remove his mask and see what’s beneath it, but he shakes his head.

“Doesn’t it make it all the more thrilling?” he murmurs.

I’m lost in the waves of pleasure taking over me, his deep voice filtering through my mind, etching itself there. I will never forget the dark timbres that bring me such unimaginable delight.

We’re two shadows in a corner, doing something so depraved and forbidden, as I ride his hand. The wet sounds echo through the space, adding to my already aching desire for release.

He strokes my cheek as he observes me riding his fingers, and when his thumb starts a circling motion on my swollen bud, I fall into that edge of tingling ecstasy, my entire body trembling. He holds on to me, making sure I’m observing as he lifts his mask ever so slightly, revealing a defined jawline and plump lips. He sucks on his fingers, tasting my orgasm, and my cheeks flush.

“So fucking pretty. At the end of the night, I will have you begging for more,” he reveals.

“Where did you go? Why didn’t you come back?” I ask the questions that have been plaguing my mind every day.

“I had to go away for a while…” he cryptically replies, eyes piercing through mine.

I should fucking run the other way, but he’s the one that scratches that goddamn annoying itch deep within my soul, and I can’t let him go now that I’ve found him again.

——————

I approach the exitof the haunted house, cheeks still flushed and a deep desire blooming in my core. Eros, the name he revealed as I shared mine, trails closely behind like a looming shadow. He said he was one of the influencers attending the park when he first laid eyes on me—instantly recognizing who I was.

There’s a kindred connection between us of darkness anddepravity that’s hard to understand.

Worried voices drift through the surrounding area as we make our way out of the haunted house, into the eerie night outside. The wind instantly grips my hair, sending a sharp metallic tinge toward me, and I scrunch my nose.

“Where were you?” Nadia screams, eyes wide open in worry as she rushes up to me, hugging me tightly to her chest.

Her eyes take in Eros behind me, his face still covered by a mask. Suspicion glints in her eyes as she grabs my hand, leading me away from him. She’s trembling like a leaf in a storm, and I can only see Max beside her, his face a hue of ashen.

“This is him…” I explain, knowing she will know who I’m talking about “But what do you mean? I was just behind you.” I look around. “Where’s Elias?”

Nadia falls silent, her expression twisted with nausea as if she’s about to puke, and thick tears stream down her face.

That’s when I see the pool of blood on the cobblestones outside the house.

And Elias’s lifeless body in the middle of it.

Chapter 4

Eveline

The world narrows downto a single point of terror as I stare at his body, my mind not processing the full truth.

“Is he joking?” I ask, voice stuttering from the palpable fear spreading through every nook and cranny inside me.

The tears streaming down Nadia’s cheeks and Max’s ashen face tells me he’s not fucking joking. There’s an eerie hum of something unnatural as the weight of reality hits me like a punch to the gut. My palms grow clammy as I stare at Nadia crumbling to her knees before Elias, a few inches away as if afraid of touching him. She lets out a strangled sob, while Max paces back and forth, staring at our surroundings with a nervous yet determined gaze.

“He can’t be dead,” I whisper, more to myself.

The ax in his chest is a gruesome sight, tearing a hole in his chest with blood pouring out as if it will never stop. He recently died. How couldn’t we have heard it?

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