Page 17 of Carnival Shadows

All thoughts of the extortionists are gone. Right now, Eden’s all that matters.

I force her against the cart, one hand pinning her wrists above her head, the other palming her breast under her shirt, thumb stroking her stiff peak. Her breasts are full and soft, and her skin is electric under my touch. This is what she wants—no, needs. To be taken with force, overwhelmed, claimed. I kiss her hard, biting down on her bottom lip until she whimpers, tasting the faint sweetness of cotton candy. My free hand slips under her skirt, finding her slick.

She moans into my mouth, squirming as my fingers delve into her heat, seeking that perfect spot that’ll make her fall apart.

With deliberate slowness, I drag my fingers through her cunt, and she bucks against my hand, seeking more.

“Fuck, Remy,” she breathes against my lips. “Please.”

Just a little more, a little further. I press harder, my fingers stroking that delicious bundle of nerves, and she cries out.

I bend her back, exposing her throat as my fingers work her roughly. “This what you’ve been fantasizing about, little stalker? Getting fucked by the monster?”

“Yes,” she gasps, nails digging into my arms.

“Tell me what you want.” I nip at her neck, sucking a spot that’ll leave a mark.

“I want you,” she moans. “Please, fuck me. Now.”

I smile against her skin as I bring her to the edge, circling that sweet clit, making sure she feels every inch of my finger. She’s almost there—so close. But not yet.

This is where the true torture begins.

Pulling my hand free, I kiss her again, biting and sucking at her lips until she’s breathless. My hands roam her body, teasing her breasts, her hips, her thighs; every touch is a promise of what’s to come.

“Don’t tease,” she begs, trying to pull me closer. I chuckle, spinning her around and pushing her against the cart. Her chest heaves, and she looks over her shoulder at me, eyes burning with frustration and arousal.

I capture her wrists, raise them above her head, and kiss my way down the length of her spine over her shirt, relishing the shivers that rake her body. My fingers dance over the V of her thighs, ghosting the edges of her soaked panties without giving her what she needs.

I step back, dragging my mouth from her. She whimpers and turns to face me, trying to follow me, but I hold her at arm’s length.

“Enough.”

A flicker of confusion crosses her face. “But?—”

“Get the fuck away from me, Eden.” I shove her away, some part of me relishing how her eyes flash with hurt. “Get out of my sight.”

She stumbles back, blinking rapidly, and straightens herself. Those gorgeous tits of hers are heaving, nipples tight under that thin fabric. She thinks I’m tossing her aside, but she doesn’t know the plan I’ve set in motion. She’s falling deep into my spinning web and doesn’t even realize it.

“What the fuck, Remy?” Her eyes are blazing now. “You want this as much as I do.”

I grab my shirt and pull it on. “Yeah, I wanted to see how far you’d go. But this isn’t happening. This isn’t some fucked-up fantasy for your pleasure.” I jerk my chin towards her crotch, towards that heat I haven’t even gotten to taste yet. “Get the hell away from my carnival.”

She flinches like I struck her, and I know at that moment that I’ve found the chink in her armor. She’ll do anything to get back in my good graces, whatever I demand of her. This little stalker is about to become my pawn. I leave her standing there, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

She wants control but doesn’t know what it’s like when true control takes hold. My control. She’s already wrapped around my finger, desperate to taste what we almost had.

And that’s exactly what I’ll use against her. She’ll do whatever I want now, thinking she’s chasing after me. She has no idea she’s playing right into my hands.

This isn’t about satisfying her anymore—pushing her to the edge and letting her dangle there. She wants me? Fine. But she’ll have to work for it now. By the time she’s done, she’ll be exactly where I want her—under my thumb and longing for more.

11

EDEN

The night air is frosty as I trail Remy’s truck through the outskirts of town. My hands grip the steering wheel, and my heart thunders with anticipation. Each turn takes us further from the carnival grounds, deeper into industrial territory I never knew existed.

He pulls into a storage facility—all concrete and steel doors gleaming under fluorescent lights. I kill my lowlights and coast to a stop, maintaining enough distance to remain unseen while keeping him in view.

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