Page 10 of Trick or Treat: The Rebirth
“I want to see all of you, mamí,” he says, and I can’t help but feel a sense of recklessness push through me, breaking barriers I didn’t know I had.
Like why am I fucking nervous?
With eager hands, I grasp the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head in one fluid motion. I watch the hunger light up in his eyes, a wildfire blazing through the flames as he takes me in. The freedom in his gaze validates every piece of me—a vulnerability I thought I’d shielded in decayed shadows.
“Eres tan hermosa,” he whispers, sliding his palms down my sides, everything from his touch to his words leaving a mark on my spirit, fueling my need for this connection.
The lingering reservations of my mind scream to pull away, to remember the mission I’d outlined for myself. To keep my heart protected, but the tangled thoughts of the storm I’ve fought through and failed to escape hum in the background like pointless white noise. With every kiss, every elegy sung to my body and soul, I drift deeper into the saturation of his essence, letting him peel away the mask I’ve worn for too long.
Our bodies move in sync, a dance of need and urgency, as he takes control of the tempo—a rhythm pulsating with unbridled intensity. In our chaotic existence, we lose ourselves among the bodies and the souls, two frustrated spirits mingling in the art of survival, reinventing our pasts.
But as the fervor builds and the inevitable reckoning hangs in the air like prying eyes, the whispered thoughts of judgment and consequence brush lightly against my consciousness, taunting me as if to say that this very moment is a precarious gamble with stakes too high.
Yet for once, succumbing feels liberating, letting the remnants of fear flicker in the boundaries of my mind. I urge him on,pulling him against me with fevered enthusiasm that knows no restraint, embarking on a journey where the prowess of healing winds through faded shadows and tattered pieces.
He slides his cock inside me, enveloping me as our breaths come in tandem—an unspoken promise sealed between us amid the wreckage of everything we’ve endured. He thrusts and grunts, nipping at my ear. My hands graze up and down his chest, nails tracing over the sculpted muscles that make up most of his body.
"So fucking tight," he growls, words slipping from his mouth with ease and perfection. "So wet."
He fucks me harder, one hand gripping the back of my neck, the other between my legs pulling on the ring in my clit, making my body jerk against his with every deep thrust. I buck my hips against him, desperate for more, and he slams into me harder with his eyes refusing to leave mine. Nervously, I bite my lip, flashbacks of Blade and me starting to attack my mind, threatening to derail the moment at any given second.
I wrap my hands around his throat, catching him off guard. His eyes widen as mine flicker with each flashback, and I choke him harder as the visions become more violent, needing to get snatched out of the past. Stealing his lips, I kiss him hard and desperate, hoping the difference will get Blade out of my head.
But I can't stop thinking about him. In fact, as Remi fucks me with deep, brutal strokes, I can feel my climax coming, tightning the muscles in my lower body. And when I shake and my body locks up as I shower his cock with my release, it's Blade's face I'm getting off to, not Remi's. Thankfully, he has no idea, and when I'm finished coming he pulls out of my soaked, sore pussy and spills his hot cum all over my lower stomach, watching it drip down my pussy.
"Well fucking worth it," he pants, grabbing some wet wipes to help clean me up, silence falling between us shortly after.
Once I'm clean and we're both presentable, I walk on shaky legs to my office door, swaying my hips on purpose knowing Remi is right behind me watching. He snatches my wrist and pulls me against his chest, his heart sounding like a stampede.
“I'll see you at eight, Doctor Stone,” he whispers seductively, lips hovering over mine one last time.
In this chaos, who knows, we may just find ourselves again.
4
What are you hiding?
Hunter
Ican't tell if she notices me or feels the weight of my gaze on her every movement. Yet, the unknown is part of the exhilarating thrill of watching Scarlett the way I do. From the moment I stepped into her office on that day—still an inmate awaiting release—I found myself completely captivated by her, and that fascination has escalated into a mild obsession.
She’s young, about fifteen years my junior, but she has endured more than most could bear—and that only intensifies my infatuation for her. Her allure is undeniable, drawing me in more with every moment I spend in her presence.
Her long, wavy black hair, interspersed with vibrant red streaks, glimmers under the soft glow of moonlight. Scarlett’sdeep brown eyes are wide, radiating a blend of love and fear. She exudes a formidable strength and confidence, yet when she’s alone, a fragile vulnerability surfaces—an innocent, scared girl I ache to comfort and heal.
Does it bother me that she sleeps with some of her patients?Not at all.I was the first, which means she belongs to me and always will. She may not realize it yet, but I know we’re destined to create our own history, one body at a time.
I’m straddling my bike, key in the ignition but the engine silent, as I watch her office from across the street in the strip mall parking lot, patiently waiting for her to walk out. As I peer into the window, I see her with Jax—of all people—engaged in some rather risqué business. But the expression on her face, with him slumped over her while she's bent over her desk, reveals her dissatisfaction, and that thought brings a smile beneath my helmet.
Before long, Scarlett steps out of the building, her skirt hugging her curves with each stride. The autumn breeze catches her hair and flows it behind her, revealing a delicate look on her face—accentuated by a faint smile that has become so rare lately. When she gets into her car and drives away, I rev my bike and follow her, maintaining a careful distance of three to four car lengths to ensure she doesn’t catch a glimpse of me.
My fingers grip the handlebars tightly, turning my knuckles white, and I only realize the intensity of my hold when Scarlett unexpectedly takes an alternate route home. My heart races as she veers further south, and I can’t help but wonder where she’s headed.
“Where are you going, Doc? What are you up to?”I murmur, the soft strains of I Prevail playing through my headphones as I strive to keep pace without revealing my presence.
When I see the signs for Old Colony Correctional Center, a rush of memories floods back—memories of all I endured tosurvive in prison—forcing me to wrestle with my composure as I near the highway. I almost have to pull my bike over; it's that fucking bad. But I manage to steady myself by focusing on thoughts of Scarlett, pushing away the horrors that have haunted me for the last two decades.
Remaining in the parking lot, I watch as Scarlett enters the prison, unwilling to get any closer to that painful chapter in my life than I already am. Just being here feels overwhelmingly close, yet I find comfort in music and videos of Scarlett while she is inside, doing whatever it is she does. I’ll uncover the fucking truth. I always do. I thought I knew everything about her—at least, I thought I did.
