Page 45 of Silent Stalker

I am her master, now. Eyes glinting, pulse pounding, I penetrate her eager pussy with my cock, only pulling out when she's taken the full length. I sink my throbbing shaft into her wetness and revel in the way her body welcomes me. The sensation is unlike anything I've ever experienced. She's perfect, and I need to possess every inch of her.

I begin to etch the “K” with slow, deliberate strokes. Starting from the bottom left, I drag the blade upward, carving a line through her soft skin. As I reach the apex of the letter, I sink my cock into her, our flesh meeting with a satisfying slap. She groans, her body trembling as she takes me in.

"Fuck, you're so tight," I growl, my voice hoarse with desire.

I pull out slowly, feeling her wetness coat my shaft. Continuing the “K”, I drag the blade downward, applying pressure to ensure the mark is equal in depth to each stroke before it so the scar created is consistent. As the blade moves, I thrust back into her, our bodies connecting in a deliberate but frenzied rhythm. Each stroke of the knife is accompanied by the savage thrust of my cock, claiming her as my own.

Clara moans, her voice echoing in the barn. "Yes, Silas. Oh God, it feels so good."

My dark laughter fills the air as I thrust savagely. "You crave the bite of my blade, don't you? The permanent reminder of who owns you?"

"Don't stop," she whimpers, her walls gripping me tighter. "I want the pain. I want to wear your marks."

Her surrender intoxicates me. I mold myself to her back, her blood smearing against my skin. I whisper against her ear, “Confess your desires, Clara. Every dark little detail."

Each word escapes between shallow breaths. "I want to surrender to this darkness inside me. To feel your blade write our story on my skin. To let you consume me completely."

With each thrust, I claim another part of her. My hands grip her hips tightly as I lose myself in the rhythm of our bodies. She's on fire, and I'm the flame that ignites her. The sound of our flesh slapping together echoes through the barn, a symphony of our passion.

Her walls flutter around my length as I drive deeper, pulling a desperate moan from her throat. "God, Silas. I'm right on the edge."

"Break for me, my beautiful goddess," I growl, driving into her with fierce desire. "Show me how you shatter for me alone."

Her body shakes as she surrenders to her orgasm, her walls clenching around me and demanding my release. I let go, thrusting deep and spilling myself into her. The electricsensation sends a rush through my body that ignites something primal within me.

As she shudders beneath me, I wrap my forearm around her neck, forcing her back to arch. I drop the knife, no longer needing it, and instead, claim her with my teeth, biting down on her soft shoulder.

My grip on her neck tightens, feeling the delicate bones beneath my palm. My teeth sink deeper, needing to leave my mark, to brand her as mine in every way possible. Her skin breaks, and the metallic tang of blood fills my mouth, spurring me deeper into my depravity.

She moans, her body submitting to me fully. In that moment I feel it, the undeniable sense of ownership—she is mine, and I am hers. Our connection is raw, intense, something I've never experienced before.

Slowly pulling my teeth from her shoulder, I trace the path of the bite with my tongue, tasting her, savoring her essence. My arm around her neck relaxes, but I don't release her, needing to feel her softness against me.

“I own every part of you, Clara," I breathe, my voice heavy with dark intent. "Your flesh. Your fear. Your future.”

Her breathing is ragged, her body pliant. I can feel her heart racing, the pulse at her neck throbbing wildly. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her breasts heaving with each breath.

I savor the mark like a communion, the taste of her blood a sacred offering. "Give voice to what we both know. Tell me your soul belongs to my darkness."

Her words emerge like a forbidden prayer, feeding my obsession. "You've claimed even my darkest parts. I'm bound to you completely."

With those words, my body reacts, ready for another round. I'm not done with her yet. Her surrender ignites something primal within me—a need to possess not just her body, buther very essence. Her submission is intoxicating, and I want to carve my dominance into her soul, claim every dark corner of her mind, every secret thought she's ever had. Her complete surrender to me, acknowledging me as her god, feeds the monster inside me. I want to reshape her, mold her into my perfect creation, until the line between us blurs and she exists solely for my pleasure, my ownership, my control.

21

CLARA

Iwake with a groan, every muscle screaming as I shift in bed. The sheets stick to the dried blood on my skin where Silas marked me on my ass. His brand throbs with each heartbeat, a constant reminder of my surrender.

Siting up, I swing my feet out, and they hit the cold floor. Grabbing my robe and putting on my slippers, I stumble to the kitchen, needing caffeine.

The coffee maker gurgles to life, filling the air with a rich aroma. I spot the silver gift bag from two nights ago, still sitting untouched on my counter where Silas left it.

The memory floods back. He’d given it to me with deliberate care, those piercing blue eyes watching my reaction. But we’d gotten... distracted before I could open it.

My fingers trace the metallic paper, hesitating. Part of me wants to leave it unopened, maintaining some illusion of control, but curiosity wins out. I reach for the bag, hands trembling as I pull apart the tissue paper.

Inside sits a black velvet box about the size of my palm—the kind jewelers use for necklaces or bracelets. My heart pounds as I lift the lid, unsure what to expect from a man like Silas.

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