Page 40 of Silent Stalker

Her plea sends a surge of power through me. I suck her clit into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it, delighting in the sounds she makes. Her body arches off the ground, her inner walls contracting around my fingers as she teeters on the edge. With a final lick, I push her over the edge, her cry of release muffled by the sounds of our passion.

"That wasn't so bad, now, was it?" My voice is little more than a whisper.

She trembles beneath me, her hands curling into the straw. I wait, giving her time to catch her breath, to gather her shattered senses.

"Talk to me, Clara." I nuzzle her hair, breathing in her scent. "What do you want?"

She remains silent for a moment, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "I want you," she finally whispers. "I want all of you."

I simply press a soft kiss to her temple, relishing the feeling of her body beneath mine.

Oh, you have no idea what you are inviting in, my beautiful goddess.

19

CLARA

Apart of me doesn’t want this. Wants to tell him to stop.

But Silas is relentless. He moves with purpose as he peels my dress from my body and drops it to the floor, before deftly unfastening my bra. I'm so exposed. My nipples are hard and pebbled from the cold air, but my entire body is on fire.

He reaches for the coiled black rope beside him, letting it unfurl with practiced ease. The silk-like texture slides across my skin as he begins his work. Each movement is calculated, methodical—a dark artist creating his masterpiece. The rope winds around my torso, crossing and weaving in intricate patterns.

I watch his face as he works, mesmerized by his concentration. His jaw is set, his eyes focused with an intensity that makes me shiver. The rope continues its journey, creating a web of restraint that both confines and adorns.

His eyes darkening with each coil of rope that wraps around my body. I feel the familiar rush of adrenaline as he binds me, his fingers skillfully maneuvering the rope, tightening it over my skin.

“Stop,” I demand, my voice breaking slightly. “Untie me, Silas. Let me go.”

But his smoldering gaze only intensifies as he continues, securing my arms and legs in intricate patterns. I can feel my heartbeat quickening, a mixture of fear and anticipation racing through my veins. I know I should be scared, but somehow, I feel safe exploring these darkest corners of my desires with him.

When finally satisfied with his handiwork, he admires his creation. I test the bindings, feeling the roughness of the rope against my skin, knowing I can’t escape.

He approaches me with a dangerous smile on his lips. “Now, my beautiful Clara,” he says in a low, seductive whisper. It’s time for you to fly.”

I watch, trepidation gripping me, as he lifts me and carries me to a corner of the barn. A large metal hook hangs from the ceiling, glinting under the dim light. My breath catches in my throat as realization dawns.

“No, Silas. Please, not this. I can’t... I won’t...”

“Oh, but you will,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving mine as he secures the rope to the hook. “You’ll soar, Clara. Because you trust me, don’t you?”

He wants to suspend me in the air, to have me completely at his mercy. I don’t know if I can handle that level of vulnerability, of surrender. But somehow, I know that I can go further with Silas than I ever thought possible.

He elevates me, my feet hanging helplessly as I float above the ground. Though the rope secures me snugly, I can’t escape the prickling sensation of being completely exposed.

“There,” he says, his eyes filled with satisfaction. “Now I have you exactly where I want you. All mine, ready to be devoured.”

The world tilts as he gently spins me, laughing softly. I feel breathless, not just from the suspension but from this moment’s raw, unfiltered intensity. Everything is heightened, every sensation acute.

I’ve never seen him like this before. Silas, usually so composed and enigmatic, is now a blur of motion, his body moving with the fluidity of a dancer as he performs a tantalizing striptease. His eyes hold mine captive, his pupils darkening with each piece of clothing he discards. That damn mask still hides his face, adding to the mystery and intrigue of this moment.

The winter evening’s chill doesn’t bother him as he unveils his sculpted body, inch by inch, revealing toned muscles and taut skin covered in beautiful dark ink. The fire inside me burns brighter with each exposure, and I find myself leaning forward, my eyes tracing the contours of his hips and thighs.

“You like this, don’t you, Clara?” His voice is like velvet, deep and seductive. “You like watching me undress for you.”

My mouth goes dry as I take in the sight of him. His body is a work of art—a canvas of beautiful tattoos. I can feel my cheeks burning, but I don’t look away. I nod slowly, unable to form words in this moment of raw, unfiltered attraction.

His movements become more deliberate, each step bringing him closer to me. He leans in, his lips brushing my ear as he whispers, “Your desire is written all over your beautiful face.”

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