Page 60 of Silent Stalker

"Don't lie to me." His voice hardens slightly, demanding truth. "Not now. Not when I can feel how wet you are for this."

My breath catches. Years of analyzing criminal psychology, of maintaining clinical distance, dissolve beneath the weight of this confession. "Sometimes," I whisper, the admission burning my throat. "Late at night, I'd imagine... God, I'd imagine being exactly here." The truth breaks free, desperate and raw. "Being completely at the mercy of someone like you."

His eyes burn into mine, and I see the carnal hunger there. Slowly, deliberately, he slides the gun out of me, my body throbbing with need. My hips buck involuntarily, seeking more.

His voice is a low, rough murmur in my ear, contrasting with the softness of his lips trailing down my neck. His fingers dig into my hips as he thrusts the gun deeper. “That’s it, my goddess. Let me see you fall apart.”

His words send a shiver through me. They tap into something primal that has always been there, lurking in the shadows of my psyche. It’s a heady rush, a cocktail of danger and desire. I want to be his goddess, worshiped and consumed by this man.

My breath quickens as he thrusts again, the gun pushing against all the right spots. My body responds instinctually, eagerly. My hips move in tandem with his hand, my back arching off the bed. I’m flushed, my skin sensitive to his every touch.

His free hand slides down to my clit, fingers circling, applying pressure. The dual stimulation is overwhelming. My body tightens like a bowstring, ready to snap. I whimper, my breath coming in short gasps.

Silas’s voice is a low rumble. “Let go for me, my goddess. Come apart at my hands.”

He thrusts harder, his thumb finding that spot that drives me wild. My vision blurs, white-hot pleasure spreading through me. My body convulses, clenching around the gun as I cry out. My release washes over me in waves, leaving me trembling and boneless.

Through the haze of my orgasm, I feel Silas’s breath against my ear. “Beautiful. Absolutely fucking beautiful.”

My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath, my mind floating in the aftermath of pleasure. I feel branded by him, marked as his. And I know he’s far from done with me. I pray he never stops.

26

SILAS

She's accepting me—all of me. Every dark corner of my mind I've kept hidden from the world is laid bare before her, and she's embracing it. I knew she would, but the thrill of confirmation is indescribable. I feel powerful beyond measure, and my desire for her grows with each moment.

Taking the gun out of her pussy, I see how wet she is. Her arousal excites me, and I need to taste her. I put the gun in my mouth, sucking it clean, making sure to savor every drop that belongs to her.

Her moans fill the room as she watches me. I can see the desire burning in her eyes and know she's craving more. A sinister smile spreads across my face as I discard the gun on the nightstand. My mind is racing, my excitement and psychosis taking over.

"You like that, don't you?" I say, my voice low and laced with filthy intentions. "You like watching me suck your juices off the gun. You're so fucking wet, Clara."

She bites her lip, her eyes never leaving mine. I love how responsive she is to me. It fuels my desire to push her even further.

"Tell me what you want," I whisper, leaning closer, my breath warm on her skin. "Tell me your darkest, filthiest fantasies. I want to hear them all."

"Chase me," she says, her voice thick with desire. "Wearing your mask and hunt me like an animal. I want to feel the thrill of being pursued. Catch me, and then—" She pauses, biting her lip, and my heart pounds in anticipation. "Then, take me with force. Right there in the woods."

A groan escapes my throat at the imagery her words evoke. "If that's what you want, I'll give it to you." I slowly stand, taking a step towards her.

She wants me to chase her, to experience the thrill of the hunt. As I reach for the knife, her eyes flicker with desire. She knows what's coming, and her excitement only fuels my own. With a swift motion, I slice through the ropes binding her wrists and setting her free to run.

"Get a head start," I tell her, my voice heavy with anticipation. "Ten seconds. Then I'm coming for you."

Clara doesn't hesitate. She takes off downstairs, the urgency in her movements clear. I count slowly in my head, drawing out the anticipation. When I reach ten, I pursue her.

I spot her running to the kitchen door and stuffing her feet into a pair of boots before escaping into the garden. The moonlight bathes her silhouette as she sprints into the woods, her pale skin almost glowing.

The woods are my domain, and I'm in control here. I let her run, listening to her panicked breaths and footsteps crunching leaves. The adrenaline is pumping through her veins, and I can practically taste her fear. It's exhilarating.

I'm in no rush, taking my time to stalk her through the forest. My prey is terrified, and I savor this dance of cat and mouse. Her erratic movements give her away, and I adjust my path to intercept her.

I see her ahead as I close in—a vision of frantic energy. Her blonde hair flies behind her as she darts between the trees.

I stalk through the woods, my footsteps silent against the forest floor. Clara's ragged breathing echoes through the trees, and my cock hardens.

I catch glimpses of her pale skin between the trees. She's running blind, desperate to escape, but I am always in control. I circle wide, cutting off her escape routes one by one.

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