Page 37 of Game Over

Her breathing reaches me from somewhere ahead—quick, panicked gasps. I follow the sound, my footsteps deliberately heavy on the concrete floor. I want her to hear me coming.

My arousal builds with each step, my body responding to the thrill of the chase. The knowledge that she’s mine—has always been mine—floods my system with heat. She’s running naked through my creation, exactly as I’ve imagined countless times.

“I can smell your fear, Kira,” I call out, tracking her footprints in the thin layer of dust I deliberately left on the floor. “And I’m going to enjoy claiming my prize.”

I stalk through the corridors, my fingertips grazing the walls I built with my own hands. Every turn, every dead end—all designed with her in mind. My creation for my obsession.

The sound of her bare feet slapping against concrete sends jolts of pleasure through me. She’s running from me now, but soon she’ll run toward me. Soon, she’ll see that everything—the cameras, the games, the masks—was always about bringing us to this moment.

“I hear you breathing, Mischief,” I call out, using the nickname that’s bounced around in my skull since I first found her under her gaming username.

Blood rushes in my ears as I catch a glimpse of her naked form darting around a corner. The flash of skin makes my mouth dry. My fingers twitch with the need to claim, mark, and possess.

I could catch her now if I wanted to. I’ve memorized every inch of this labyrinth; I could cut her off at any juncture. But the chase—God, the chase is intoxicating. Her fear perfumes the air, and I inhale deeply, letting it fill my lungs.

“You can’t escape what’s meant to be,” I call out, quickening my pace. “I’ve spent two years learning every detail about you, Kira. Your gaming patterns, sleep schedule, the way you touch yourself when you think no one’s watching.”

I round a corner and spot her pressed against a wall, chest heaving, eyes wild. For a moment, our gazes lock before she bolts again. The terror in her eyes only inflames me further.

“That’s it, run faster. Make me hunt you properly.” My voice echoes through the concrete corridor. “I want to earn my prize.”

I’ve never felt more alive than at this moment. With its rules and consequences, the outside world might as well not exist. There’s only her, me, and the maze.

I slow my pace deliberately, letting the echo of my footsteps fade. The following silence is delicious—I can practically hear her heartbeat pounding through the concrete walls. I know exactly where she is: in the third corridor, approaching the false exit. I designed that particular dead end to inspire hope before crushing it.

“You’re getting warmer,” I call out, my voice bouncing off the walls, making it impossible for her to pinpoint my location. “But I’m getting hot.”

I take a shortcut through a hidden passage, emerging two turns ahead of where she’s headed. When she realizes I’m manipulating her path, the look of shock on her face will be exquisite. My body thrums with anticipation.

I hear her breathing change—she thinks she’s found an escape route. The maze’s trick lighting makes the path ahead of her glow faintly, beckoning her forward. She doesn’t know I control everything—the lights, the sounds, even the subtle air currents that draw her deeper.

“Tell me,” I murmur into the microphone clipped to my collar, my voice suddenly surrounding her from hidden speakers. “Do you feel like prey yet?”

I hear her gasp, followed by her sprinting in the opposite direction. I chuckle, adjusting a dial on my wrist controller that seals off the corridor she’s running toward. The soft hiss of hydraulics echoes through the maze as a panel slides into place.

“That’s not fair!” Her voice bounces back to me, frustration and fear spiking.

“I never said I played fair,” I respond, scuffing my boot against the floor so she can hear how close I am. “Only that I play to win.”

I round the corner silently, catching sight of her naked back as she presses herself against a wall. Her skin glistens with sweat, muscles tense beneath smooth flesh.

I drink in the sight of her naked form pressed against the concrete. She doesn’t know I’m here yet—doesn’t sense me just feet away, savoring the final moments of the hunt. Her breathing comes in short, panicked bursts, her shoulders rising and falling with each gasp. My Mischief, cornered at last.

“Found you,” I announce.

She spins around, eyes wide with terror and something that makes my blood sing. Recognition, desire, hate—all of it is beautiful on her face.

I lunge forward before she can bolt again, my body crashing into hers. The impact knocks the air from her lungs in a satisfying gasp. My hands find her wrists, pinning them above her head against the cold wall in one smooth motion. Our bodies press together—her soft, naked flesh against my clothed form, a deliberate power imbalance I planned from the start.

“Caught you,” I growl, tightening my grip on her wrists. Her pulse hammers against my palm—a frantic, trapped bird. “Now you’re mine to claim.”

She struggles against me, her body writhing in a way that only hardens my cock further. I push my hips forward, pinning her more firmly to the wall. The concrete must feel like ice against her bare back, but I don’t care. I want her uncomfortable. I want her to be aware of every sensation.

“Stop fighting,” I command, pressing harder until she whimpers. “You’re exactly where you’re meant to be.”

I shift her wrists to one hand, my fingers encircling her delicate bones. My free hand grabs her jaw, forcing her to gaze at me through the eyeholes of my mask. Her pupils are dilated, black, nearly swallowing the color of her irises.

“Level two complete,” I say. “But you didn’t win, Mischief, and now it’s time to pay up.”

---