Page 54 of Silent Stalker

My breath catches, my body responding to his words despite my better judgment. “Go on.”

“And what if, after I kill, I stood over the body, covered in their blood, and stroked myself to completion?” His cock stirs inside me at the image he paints. “Would you still want to help me then? Or would you be fantasizing about watching me, about tasting the combination of our fluids on my skin?”

My cheeks flame, but I meet his gaze, refusing to back down. “I’d want to see it. All of it. I’d want to know every part of you, even the parts that scare me.”

He chuckles, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “Oh, I know you would, Clara. I’ve watched you. I know how your body craves the forbidden, how your pussy gets wet when you think about surrendering to your darkest desires.”

I can’t deny it. My arousal is plain to see, my body still twitching and throbbing around his semi-hard cock. “Maybe I would,” I whisper, my eyes dropping to his lips. “Maybe I’d want to rip your clothes off and fuck you right there, taste the blood and sweat on your skin.”

Silas’s eyes darken at my words, his cock throbbing inside me in response. He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “I knew it. You want to explore those desires, don’t you? To let go of your inhibitions and embrace the darkness.”

My breath comes in short gasps as his cock stirs inside me. “Yes,” I breathe, my voice thick with desire. “I want it all, Silas. The danger, the forbidden, the taste of you on my tongue.”

He presses himself deeper into me, his cock hardening fully once more. “Then embrace it, Clara. Let yourself fall into the abyss with me. There’s no turning back once you do.”

I tilt my head back, exposing my throat as he nuzzles my neck, his lips brushing my skin. “I’m not afraid,” I whisper, even as butterflies take flight in my stomach. “I want this. I want you.”

He thrusts slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving mine. “Say it again,” he growls. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” The word is a plea, a confession. “I want you, Silas. All of you. The darkness, the violence, the desires you think are too twisted to voice. I want to explore it all with you.”

He growls, his thrusts becoming more urgent, his grip on my hips tightening. “Then take me, Clara. Take all of me.”

I answer his challenge, my body moving to meet his, our hips slamming together in a savage rhythm. His fingers dig into my flesh, leaving marks that will bruise, but I don’t care. I want him to brand me, to leave his mark on my body, a testament to our forbidden union.

Our lips crash together, our tongues dueling as we taste each other, exploring. My hands roam his back, my nails scraping down his skin, marking him as mine. His breath comes in sharp gasps, mingling with my ragged pants as we move together, our bodies slick with sweat.

The tension builds, electric and all-consuming, until I shatter, crying out his name as pleasure crashes over me. Silas claims me with punishing force, his second release filling me ashis desperate pants scorch my neck, and his grip threatens to leave marks I’ll find tomorrow.

We collapse together, our hearts pounding in unison, our breathing the only sound in the room. He kisses me softly, his lips brushing mine with unspoken promises. In this moment, I feel safe, cocooned in the aftermath of our passion.

But the peace is fleeting. I know that soon, reality will come crashing down. The murders, the investigation, the realization of what I’ve just admitted to myself—that I’m falling for a serial killer.

But for now, I feel no fear in the arms of the man who understands my darkness. Only a sense of finally coming home.

24

SILAS

Iwake with an unfamiliar weight against my chest. Clara's warmth bleeds into my skin, her breath tickling my neck steadily. My arm wraps around her, fingers splayed across her ribcage where I count each rise and fall.

This sensation defies logic. People are pawns, toys to manipulate and discard. Yet here she lies, fitting perfectly against me like the missing piece to a puzzle I never knew existed.

My mind races, unable to process these contradictions: the urge to squeeze tighter wars with the need to protect, possess, and worship.

Love is a chemical reaction, a weakness I've studied in my victims. But Clara stirs something primal in me that transcends mere biology. My fingers twitch against her skin as thoughts spiral and fragment.

I am a god among insects. I hold power over life and death. Clara should be beneath me, another puppet dancing on my strings. Instead, she's burrowed under my skin, taken residence in spaces I didn't know were empty.

Her hair spills across my chest like liquid gold. I trace the marks I left on her neck, evidence of my claim. Mine. The word echoes with new meaning.

"Silas?" Clara's sleepy voice breaks through my chaotic thoughts.

My body responds before my mind can catch up, pulling her closer. Wrong. Weak. Perfect.

"Go back to sleep," I murmur, pressing my lips to her forehead. The gesture feels foreign yet natural, like muscle memory I shouldn't possess.

She sighs contentedly, drifting off again. I remain awake, analyzing every point of contact between us and categorizing each sensation. This doesn't fit with who I am or what I've built myself to be, yet I can't bring myself to let go.

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