Page 101 of Stalker's Toy

I reach for it, break it with my whisper, "I want everyone watching you, girl."

I've never seen her like this, so out of her element but so desperate to be in it.

I move her through the maze, feeling her pulse against my skin, her quick little breaths coming faster than the beat that fills the room.

She's a work of art in the making, a beautiful disaster that only I can create.

We cut through the mass of people, the noise a constant buzz.

Every piece of her, every inch, I want it seen.

I want it wanted. But never taken. Never until I say.

It's the wildest setup I can imagine—my two lives crashing into each other and creating something new, something fucked up and perfect.

Stalker, Henrik, whoever the hell I am tonight, it doesn't matter.

She knows I'm in charge. I make sure she does.

The chaos surrounds us, bodies and noise and desire.

Every single one of them sees her.

Sees me.

Sees us.

The sweet thrill of being watched, being wanted.

I want this.

For me. For her. For us.

I want it so fucking bad, the edges blur and bleed into something that resembles art.

It's alive and raw, and the parts that scream with agony look like ecstasy if you squint hard enough.

This is it. The heart of it. And we're the beating pulse.

I pull her into the den, and the crowd turns like a single beast with one hundred hungry eyes.

Mia holds onto me, her fingers like claws in my arm.

Her pupils are black as night, eating the green around them.

I can feel her heart in the tips of her fingers.

It drums wild, chaotic,and perfect.

Women in cages and on stages, every position you can think of and some you can't.

Being fucked and flogged and worshiped like pagan goddesses.

The crowd forms tight circles, closing in around the ones they like best, leaving just enough space for hands to reach in, to touch, to grab, to take.

Every hole is filled.

Every fantasy comes true, even the ones you never knew you had until they're right in front of you, moaning and wet and asking for more.

---