Page 52 of Carnival Shadows

“Need some help with this?” I trace the outline of his cock through the denim.

My fingers find his belt buckle, and I work it open with anticipation. The metal clinks as I pull the leather belt free.

“Right here in the van?” His voice is rough.

“We have time.” I slide the zipper down. “Let me take care of you.”

I slide my hand into Remy’s jeans, wrapping my fingers around his thick length. His sharp intake of breath makes me smile. The power I feel in this moment while pleasuring this dangerous man who holds so much control over me is utterly thrilling.

“Fuck,” he hisses as I stroke him, my grip firm but teasing.

I lean in closer, breathing in his scent—sweat and leather. “Let me show you how grateful I am. For trusting me and letting me help.”

His hand tangles in my hair, grip tightening as I bring my lips to his cock. The van’s confined space makes everything moreintense and more intimate. His cock pulses in my hand, rock hard and leaking.

I take him into my mouth, savoring his groan of pleasure. His grip on my hair tightens, guiding my movements as I tease him with my tongue. The taste of him, the weight of his cock against my tongue, makes my pussy beg for attention.

“Such an eager slut,” Remy growls, his hips bucking slightly. “Always so desperate to please me.”

My core throbs at his words, and I moan around him. The vibration makes him curse, his fingers flexing in my hair. I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks as I suck. The van’s windows add to the intensity—anyone could walk by and see us.

His breathing grows ragged as I pleasure him with my mouth and hand. I can feel him getting close, his thighs tensing beneath my touch. The power I feel is intoxicating—this dangerous man coming undone because of me.

“Fuck, Eden,” he groans, grabbing the lever between his knees to recline back in the chair, allowing me to get better access. “Look at me while you suck my cock.”

I lift my gaze to meet his, never breaking rhythm. The shadows in his eyes make me shiver. This is what I’ve always craved—this connection with someone who understands my twisted psyche.

His cock pulses against my tongue as I maintain eye contact. I know he’s close; I can feel how his body tenses. The hand in my hair tightens painfully, holding me exactly where he wants me.

“That’s it, beautiful,” he pants. “Show me how much you want it.”

I double my efforts, taking him as deep as I can. His groans of pleasure fill the van, sending fresh waves of arousal through me. I’m so wet, so desperate for him, but right now, this is about showing him how valuable I can be in every way.

I feel Remy’s cock pulse against my tongue as his grip tightens in my hair. His breath comes in harsh pants above me, his control slipping. His taste and his weight in my mouth make me dizzy with need. I hollow my cheeks, taking him deeper, wanting to prove my devotion.

“Fuck,” he groans. “I’m going to fill that pretty mouth.”

His release hits the back of my throat, hot and thick. I swallow eagerly, not wanting to waste a drop. His fingers flex in my hair as he empties himself, holding me in place until he’s finished.

When he finally releases my hair, I sit back, wiping my mouth with my hand. His eyes are dark as he tucks himself away, zipping up his jeans.

“Such a good girl,” he says, running his thumb across my lower lip. “Now, let’s get your equipment and make that podcast. Show those cops what happens when they mess with us.”

The praise sends shivers down my spine. I’ve never felt more alive than I do now, using my skills to protect Remy and being part of his dangerous world. Remy starts the van, and I catch his reflection in the side mirror—the subtle curve of his lips, the possessive glint in his eyes.

This is what I’ve been searching for all my life. Not just studying the dark side of humanity but being embraced by it—being claimed by it.

The van rumbles to life, and we pull away from the carnival grounds. My mind is already racing with ideas for the podcast, ways to weave truth and misdirection into a compelling narrative that will throw the police off our trail.

26

REMY

Ilean against the doorframe, watching Eden work her magic behind the microphone. Her voice carries that perfect blend of authority and intrigue that hooks listeners. The way she weaves her stories, building tension with carefully chosen words and strategic pauses—it’s like watching an artist at work.

“And that’s all for this week’s episode of Shadow Stories. Remember, sometimes the darkest tales hide in plain sight. This is Eden Love, signing off.”

She removes her headphones and meets my gaze, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth. The professional mask slips a fraction, revealing the woman I’ve come to know beneath.

---