Page 40 of Carnival Shadows

“What... what are you doing?” Her voice is hoarse, thick with sleep.

“What does it feel like I’m doing?” I tease, pushing in deep and pulling out almost all the way. I flex my hips, hitting that sweet spot, and she moans, her head falling back. “Don’t you like it?”

“I—I didn’t expect...” She swallows, looking up at me through her dark lashes, her chest heaving. “I didn’t expect to wake up like this.”

“Like what? With my cock buried balls-deep in your pussy?” I grab her hips, holding her in place as I snap mine forward,making her whimper. “It’s a little late to be getting shy now, don’t you think?”

“No, I... it’s not that.” Her cheeks flush, and her hands grasp at my arms, her nails digging into my skin. “I just... I need a minute.”

I lean down, my lips brushing her ear, and whisper, “You don’t get a minute, baby. Not anymore.” I bite her earlobe gently, then pull back to look at her. “You wanted me, obsessed over me. Well, here I am. Giving you everything you’ve wanted. A man depraved enough to spend the night warming his cock in your cunt and fuck you awake in the morning.”

“Remy, please?—”

“Please, what?” I snap my hips again, and she cries out, her eyelids fluttering.

Her breath catches, and she bites her lip. “I...”

I keep thrusting, slow and deep, enjoying the way her body quivers with each thrust. “It’s okay, baby. I get it.” I nip at her jaw, tasting the salt of her skin. “You’re not the only one obsessed here.”

She makes a broken sound, and I know I’ve gotten to her. “Just like that, baby. Surrender. I know all your fantasies, remember?” I tighten my grip on her hips. “I plan to make every one of them come true, Eden.”

“Oh God.” Her chest heaves as I plunge into her again and again. “Remy, please.”

“You like that, huh? Hearing me say your name?” I lean down, mouth against her ear. “You like it when I’m inside you, filling you up?”

“Yes,” she gasps, her back arching. “Yes, God, Remy.”

“Fuck yes, little stalker,” I grunt, my composure failing. “Soak my cock. Let everyone hear how good I make you feel.”

And she does, crying out my name as her body tenses with her climax. I feel her pussy pulse around me, and it’s toomuch. I spill into her, groaning as I fill her with cum, my body shuddering with the force of it. I hold her tight against me, my heart thumping as we both come down from our high.

I pull out of Eden and rise from the bed, my muscles pleasantly loose. Running a hand through my hair, I glance at her sprawled form. “Be a good girl and stay in the trailer while I work. Don’t make me regret giving you some freedom.”

Heading to the shower without looking back, I try to ignore this strange feeling settling in my chest. The hot water hits my shoulders, and I press my forehead against the cool tile.

Shit. This wasn’t part of the plan. Eden is supposed to be a toy to play with and discard, but something about her is already under my skin.

The way she looks at me. Like she completely and utterly craves me. It’s unsettling. Dangerous. I’ve spent years building these defenses, keeping everyone at arm’s length. Yet here she is, this obsessed girl, somehow worming her way past them.

I slam my fist against the tile. I can’t afford distractions, not with the operation running so smoothly. Ty’s counting on me. The carnival depends on my focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to her sleeping form, how she fits against me like she was made for it.

“Get it together,” I mutter, shutting off the water more forcefully than necessary. I need to maintain control. She’s another pawn in this game—nothing more.

Even as I think about it, I know I’m lying to myself. The truth is, I’m starting to need Eden just as much as she needs me. And that makes her the most dangerous person in my world.

21

EDEN

My mind swirls with conflicting emotions, drifting back to what happened between us two nights ago. Everything feels surreal like I’m floating above reality.

I should be horrified. My psychology training screams at me about trauma responses and power dynamics. Still, the warmth spreading through my chest tells a different story.

My fingers trace over the bruises on my wrists, physical proof that this wasn’t another fantasy scrawled in my journal. Remy knows my secrets now. He’s seen the depths of my obsession, and instead of running, he matched it with his own intensity.

The morning light streams through the window, and I catch my reflection in the glass. I look different, even from the day before—my cheeks flushed, my eyes bright. The woman staring back at me isn’t the controlled professional I’ve crafted over the years. She’s raw, exposed, alive. The woman I’ve been hiding for years.

The outside world feels distant and unimportant. How can I go back to analyzing other people’s deviance when I’m finally embracing my own?

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