Page 19 of My Masked Stalker
She spins, her cloak flaring out, her hood slipping back to reveal her honey-blonde hair gleaming in the moonlight. The sight of her trembling, alone, yet stubborn enough to lift her chin and glare into the dark—fuck, it makes my cock throb against the inside of my thigh.
The silence stretches, broken only by her unsteady breathing. She knows she should run, but she doesn’t. My brave little Red.
“Barbs?” she tries again, weaker this time, as if she already knows the answer. Her friend’s not here anymore.
I wait until she takes one tentative step forward before rustling the stalks at her back. She whirls again, gasping. “Stop it! Where are you?”
I smile under the wolf skull mask. She’s not calling for her friend anymore. She’s calling forme.
12
EMILY
My heartbeat pounds in my ears as I run through the maze, my breath fogging the air when I turn to look over my shoulder, searching for my stalker. Fallen corn husks crunch under my boots, and I really hope I won’t trip over a stalk again. I should have worn gloves.
I must be going the wrong way. The sounds of the Halloween carnival fade into the distance with every step I take, and now it feels like it’s just us. Just me and my wolf in our own game of cat and mouse.
Every now and then, Killian calls out my name from somewhere close by. It feels like he’s ahead of me one moment, then behind the next, and when I get turned around by the discrepancy, his chuckles echo around me.
“Barbara?” I call out again, though I don’t have much hope that my friend will answer me.
“I think she’s at the exit, sweetheart. Waiting for you.” Killian scoffs. “She’ll be waiting for a while. I say when we’re done.”
I shiver and wrap my cloak around me tighter. As if that’ll keep him from me.
Determined to find the exit and Barbs, I lift my chin and start walking down different paths, hunting for the glow of lights, thesounds of laughter. Every time I think I’ve gotten ahead of the wolf, his skull flashes out of the darkness at the end of a row, and I hurry the other way.
Suddenly, I’m pulled back into the corn rows, an arm over my chest, a knife pressed to my throat. I’m too scared to even scream. Was I not just reaching when I felt oddly safe with him—was I completely delusional? Is he going to kill me after all?
Killian’s mask presses against the side of my face, the wolf’s skull feeling cold and unyielding. I can feel his breath, the hardness of his body pressed against mine from behind, his dick growing larger, pushing into my butt.
“You really thought you could hide from me in a children’s maze, Little Red?” he whispers, then chuckles, squeezing me tighter. “You were never out of my sight.”
Why is it taking so long to get the lights back on, for someone to come and find lost guests? How am I alone with my stalker when there are so many people visiting the Halloween carnival tonight? But, more importantly, do I want someone to intervene? Their death would be on my hands.
“A—are you going to k—kill me?” I ask with a stutter, sweat dripping down the side of my neck despite the chilly fall air.
He clicks his tongue, sounding disappointed. “After everything, Emily, you think I’m going to kill you in the corn stalks?” His voice turns harsh as he continues. “I killed for you. I’d die for you. But I will never fucking harm you, sweetheart.”
With that, he spins me around. This close to his mask, the skull is even more terrifying, the sight of it chilling my bones. Killian walks, pushing me backward, while I’m still stupefied by his appearance, his presence, my eyes locked on the wolf’s empty sockets. He doesn’t stop until my back thumps against something hard and immovable. I look up to see he’s pressing me against the backside of a scarecrow’s cross. We must be in the center of the maze.
My stalker drops to his knees in the dirt, and I’m too frozen to the spot to even consider running.
“What are you doing?” I whisper as he reverently parts my cloak. The skull tilts, taking in my exposed skin from the tops of my boots to the hood fastening at my neck.
“Feasting,” he growls, his voice sounding hollow behind the headpiece, his hands moving from my ankles to the juncture of my thighs. I shiver when I feel his touch on me—he took his gloves off, and the calluses on his hands rasp deliciously against my skin.
He lifts the pleats of my tiny skirt, groaning when my pussy is exposed to the brisk night air. My stalker told me not to wear any panties, and like an idiot, I obeyed. If this were a horror movie, I’d be the first girl to die at the axe murderer’s hands.
Killian tears the mask off his face, and I think I’m going to see him clearly for the first time when I notice he’s wearing black camouflage paint. I realize I’m frowning when his gorgeous, firm lips part into an evil grin. The bastard knows I’m disappointed.
His hands return to my thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh with almost bruising force.
“You’re such a good girl for me, Emily.” When he licks his lips, he smudges some of the black paint, leaving a streak that makes my fingers itch to clean it up. “So eager to obey. Or are you afraid I’ll punish you?”
My bottom lip trembles at his question, my mind refusing to dissect my motivations. Why did I wear this costume he left when he broke into my apartment? Why am I not wearing any underwear underneath the micro skirt?
When I stay quiet for too long, he shocks me with a sharp slap against my bare ass. My squeal rips through the intimate silence in the darkened center of the maze. Blushing furiously, I realize my pussy leaked in response, the night air cooling my now damp flesh.
