Page 28 of Carnival Shadows

His trailer has been moved from its original location. It now sits isolated at the edge of the grounds, partially hidden by shadows. The metal steps creak as he pulls me up them.

“Home sweet home,” he says, his voice dripping with dark humor. “Though you already know what it looks like inside, don’t you, little stalker?”

Heat floods my cheeks at the reminder of my break-in. The evidence I left behind, my panties accidentally left on his desk after a noise spooked me.

The trailer door swings open with an ominous squeak. Even in the dim light, I can see the reinforced locks he mentioned. The windows are covered with metal bars and black-out material—neither were there during my previous visit.

He’s prepared this space specifically for keeping me captive. The thought should terrify me. Instead, warmth pools between my legs, and my nipples tighten. What kind of person gets aroused by their own imprisonment?

I follow Remy into his trailer’s cramped bathroom, my legs shaky. He reaches past me and turns on the shower with a quick twist—steam quickly fills the small space.

“Strip.” His command is sharp, brooking no argument.

My cheeks burn with mortification. I’m filthy from hours bound in that chair, urine sticking to my skin, which is angry and red with burns, and I hate that he is seeing me like this.

Something in his eyes tells me hesitation isn’t an option. I peel off the blanket with trembling fingers and drop it to the floor.

Remy’s gaze is intense and predatory as it rakes down my naked body. His eyes track every movement as the blanket pools at my feet. I fight the urge to cover myself, knowing he won’t allow it. The steam swirls around us, making the space feel even more intimate.

“Get in.” Another clipped command.

I step into the shower, the hot water hitting my skin. After being cold for so long, it’s almost painful, but I welcome the heat. At least now, I can blame the redness in my face on the steam.

Remy’s eyes never leave me, watching through the glass door as water sluices over my body. I’ve never felt more exposed, more vulnerable. Even so, his unwavering attention is intoxicating, even in these humiliating circumstances.

“Turn around. Face the door.” Remy’s voice is rough.

I swallow, my throat dry as I obey. My heart hammers in my chest like it wants to break free and run, but my body stays put, my feet anchored to the shower floor. Desire wars with fear, but my knees don’t weaken, and I don’t turn and bolt.

Through the fogged-up glass, I see his hand going to his belt and notice the bulge in his pants. I know what he’s doing without needing to see, and my mouth goes dry.

“Touch yourself,” he orders. “But don’t you dare come.”

Without waiting for a response, he starts to stroke himself. My breasts feel heavy, and my nipples pebble as I slowly caress my breasts, brushing my thumbs over my rigid nipples. The heat in his gaze reflects the flames licking up my stomach, and my palm glides down to cup my pussy, my skin aching for his touch.

I want to touch him and feel he’s real, but my knees almost buckle at the sight before me. His impressive length is in his hand, and his eyes never leave mine as he strokes and teases. I drag my fingers through my aching pussy, my breath catching as he adds a slight twist to his wrist.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands.

My cheeks flame, and my lips part, but no words come out. My brain short-circuits, overwhelmed by an onslaught of sensations, barely able to process that this gorgeous man is giving me orders while pleasuring himself.

He groans, his eyes glued to my fingers as they circle my sensitive clit. “Say it,” he commands.

“I want you.” The words are wrenched from my throat, spoken without hesitation, but absolutely true. I close my eyes, unable to bear the intensity of his dark gaze on me any longer.

“You want me to fuck you?” His question sends a spike of lightning straight to my cunt, and I can’t stop the sharp intake of breath. “Answer me,” he growls, his hips rolling in a way that tells me he’s imagining fucking into me. My walls pulse, desperate to be filled, and I whimper.

“Yes!” I want it now, on the floor, up against the wall. An image flashes of me on my knees, my face pressed to his thighs, looking up at him as I suck him.

The shower door flies open, the cold air a shock to my heated skin, and I turn with a gasp to face him. Remy’s gaze is molten as he wraps a hand around the back of my neck and drags me against him. My body fits perfectly with his, and a bolt of fireburns from my core to the tips of my toes as I feel his thick length against my belly.

Lifting my chin with a finger beneath my jaw, his eyes burn into mine. “Soon, but not yet.” His lips claim mine in a bruising kiss, his tongue plundering my mouth.

My knees nearly buckle when he pulls away. I can’t breathe, can’t think, my body burning with need as he backs me against the wall, the water cascading around us. His hands grab my thighs, and he lifts me, pressing my back to the cold tile as he steps between my legs.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs approvingly, his hips moving against me as his hands roam everywhere. “Mine to play with.”

I know it’s a game. I understand the rules. I agreed to them. Hell, with my journal, I all but wrote them. Remy pushes, and I push back, but not too hard. This dance between us is intoxicating.

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