Page 59 of Silent Stalker

Silas doesn’t respond right away. He holds my gaze, his thumb tracing patterns along my jawline. The silence stretches taut between us, thick with anticipation. Finally, he releases me with a soft, "How can I deny such sweet desperation from my goddess?”

He lifts me off the floor, cradling me against his chest as he carries me to the bedroom. My heart hammers against my ribs as he lays me down on the bed. My body trembles with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. I know tonight won’t just be about pleasure. It will be about power, the exchange of control, and finally, seeing the depths of each other’s darkness.

Silas retrieves a length of rope from his jacket pocket and ties my wrists above my head, securing them to the bedpost. Recollections of the wild sex we had in the milking barn flash through my mind, turning me on.

That was almost a crime scene. I know this as sure as I know my own name. But he used it for me… for us, instead.

I test the bonds, relishing my restraints. Silas tied them firmly but not uncomfortably tight. He runs his knuckles down my cheek, his eyes softening for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability that vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Wordlessly, he turns and retrieves something from his pocket—his Ghostface mask, which he puts on.

"I've been waiting for this," he whispers, his voice distorted by the mask.

"What are you waiting for now?" I breathe, relishing the feel of his eyes on my body. None of my nights alone touching myself to men in that mask can compare to what he offers.

A low chuckle escapes him. "To show you the true depths of my depravity."

He grabs the hem of my dress, roughly pulling it over my head and tossing it aside. His masked gaze rakes over my black lace bra and matching panties, making me shiver with anticipation. With practiced ease, he reaches behind me, unhooking my bra. It falls away, leaving my breasts exposed to his hungry stare. His fingers hook into the waistband of my panties, dragging them down my legs until I step out of them.

Then he pulls something else from his pocket, and my eyes widen as I recognize the butt of a gun. I'm no stranger to the sidearms law enforcement carries... but to bring it to bed? I can't take my eyes off of it, off of him.

He presses the barrel against my stomach. The cold metal surprises me, the contrast with Silas's heated flesh startling. The sensation of a weapon on my naked skin is foreign, and I shiver. I want to ask what this is about, but my voice abandons me when he traces the gun down my abdomen to the damp folds between my thighs.

“Silas?” I whisper, unsure whether I want him to stop or continue. The question dies on my lips as he drags the barrel against my clit, making me jolt. I ache to be filled, but the unexpectedness of this sends my pulse racing.

“Is it... loaded?” I whisper, watching the gun with trepidation. I’m simultaneously frozen and achingly aware of every inch of my body.

Silas raises an eyebrow, his eyes glittering with dark intent. “Wouldn’t be any fun if I told you, would it?”

My breath hitches as he teases the entrance to my pussy with the barrel, the cold metal sending shockwaves through me. His other hand traces a path from my knee to my inner thigh, dragging my skirt higher.

“You like that, don’t you?” His eyes flash behind the mask. “The not knowing. Wondering if you should feel safe or scared.”

“I—” My voice fails as he slips the barrel between my folds, pressing gently upward. My breath catches. I want to beg him to tell me, to assure me it isn’t loaded, but the words dissolve on my tongue. Part of me craves the danger, the thrill, the unknown. Another part of me is petrified, imagining him pulling the trigger and ending me in one second flat.

The steel is smooth, almost soothing, as it glides along my sensitive flesh. I feel his gaze on me, observing my reactions, histouch deliberate and controlled. I realize this isn’t just about my pleasure or his dominance—he’s testing me.

He kisses me softly, his lips gentle against mine, his thumb caressing my cheek. “I would never hurt you, Clara. I’d die before I let anyone or anything harm you.”

I search his eyes, and my breath catches in my throat. The scene is straight out of a horror movie: me, restrained, helpless, at the mercy of a serial killer. My chest tightens at the fear and overwhelming arousal he elicits from me. I should be terrified; instead, I feel alive, electrified by the danger.

The gun slides out of me, and I whimper, already craving more. I know Silas isn’t done toying with me. He teases my entrance with the barrel again, circling it, slowly pushing it back inside.

I moan, the sound filling the room, my wrists pulling at the restraints. “Please, Silas...”

“Let me hear those desperate little words,” he purrs, voice rough with controlled obsession as his midnight stare strips me bare.

“Fuck me,” I gasp, the crude honesty setting my face aflame while desire pools between my thighs. “I need you deep inside me.’”

With a soft growl, he slides the gun deeper, filling me. My back arches off the bed, my body betraying my fears, opening to him. He hesitates for a moment, letting me feel the weight of the gun inside me before beginning a slow, steady thrust.

My breath catches as he begins to fuck me with the gun. The sensation is intense, unlike anything I’ve experienced before. I squirm against the restraints, my hips moving in rhythm with his thrusts. The cold metal sends shivers through my body, contrasting with the scorching heat between my thighs.

I’m keenly aware of his eyes on me, studying my reactions, taking pleasure in my surrender. My skin is alive with sensation,every nerve ending buzzing with anticipation. I whimper, my body on the edge of an abyss, teetering between pleasure and a pitch black lust, something that dances with danger.

"Such beautiful surrender," he purrs through the mask. "Tell me, Dr. Hart, did you ever imagine during your studies that you'd end up here? Naked and wanting beneath a murderer's touch?"

I close my eyes, shame and desire warring inside me. Every lecture, every case study, every professional boundary I've ever maintained crashes against this moment. "I... I didn't—" But even as I try to deny it, my body betrays me, arching into his touch.

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