Page 66 of Stalked
Something snaps inside me at the sound of her begging. I grab her jaw roughly, forcing her to look into my eyes as I thrust deeper, harder. “You fucking love this, don't you? My dirty little slut, so hungry for my cock—the cock that fucking broke your virginity.”
Her pupils are blown wide, her lips parted as she gasps with each brutal thrust. The sight of her—bound, bleeding from my marks, surrendering completely—rewrites my understanding of possession. This isn't merely victory or conquest—it's completion, the final piece sliding into place in the machinery of my existence, transforming obsession into something almost sacred.
“Is this what you were chasing in New York?” I growl, my voice barely recognizable. “All those fancy dominants couldn't fill the void I left, could they? Couldn't mark you like I do.”
I drag my nails down her sides, watching welts rise on her perfect skin. Mine. She's always been fucking mine.
“You've been mine since that first day I met you,” I snarl, my rhythm growing erratic as rage and possession consume me. “My fucking soulmate, trying to deny what was written in our blood.”
Her walls clench around me, her body betraying how much she loves this—loves me—despite everything.
“Every man who touched you was just a pathetic substitute,” I continue, my teeth finding her shoulder, biting down. “I should carve my name into your fucking skin so you never forget who you belong to again.”
I reach between us, thumb finding her clit as I drive deeper. “Say it. Tell me you're my fucking slut. Tell me you've always been mine.”
The anger that's fueled me for fifteen years transforms into something more dangerous, more consuming. This isn't just about fucking her—it's about reclaiming what was stolen from me the moment she climbed onto that bus without saying goodbye.
“I'm yours,” she whispers, her voice breathless and filled with such surrender it stabs through the dark curtain of my obsession. Lia's body trembles under my touch, and the knowledge that I've led her to this space—where the only truth she knows is my possession of her—lights a flame deep in my gut.
I ease back just enough to look at her, her eyes heavy with desire and submission. “Say it again, Lia.” My command is firm, and the hunger to hear those words echoing back to me is undeniable.
“I'm yours... completely,” she breathes out, her chest rising and falling erratically as she gives herself over to the moment, the words, irrevocable in their power.
Satisfied, I lean down to seal my claim on her with another kiss while controlling her breath with my hand—a heightened pleasure mixed with a tinge of danger that has her writhing even more. In this sharp mix of pleasure and control, her body betrays her as another climax shatters through her. I let out a guttural roar of triumph, claiming her once more as I fill her, my cum marking her as mine.
“Christ,” I pant, my hand easing from her neck as I bask in the aftermath of her submission. “I'm glad they enforced the birth control rule for Hunt participants...” My words come out heavy, thick with a possessiveness that's tangible in the air. “I want you fucking soaked with me by the time the Hunt is finished.”
I withdraw, watching my cum seep from her, and the visceral sight sends a wave of ownership through me. She's mine. “And even after the Hunt, after our mandatory twenty-four hour cooldown,” I murmur, my voice both soft and commanding, “I'll come inside you again and again, to remind you you're mine—to fill you until you know of nothing in your existence but me.”
Here and now, in the echo of my words and the reality of the bond we've forged, there are no more lines.
27
LIA
Ilie beside Vane on the platform, our bodies slick with sweat. My muscles ache in that delicious way that only comes from being thoroughly satisfied. Despite how spent I feel, desire still smolders between us, a flame that even time couldn’t extinguish.
Vane's fingers trace the shallow cut on my hip. “Are you going to run from me again, wildflower?”
I turn to face him, studying the harsh lines of his face, softened now in the aftermath of pleasure. “No,” I whisper. “I'm done running.”
His eyes darken. “Why did you run all those years ago? Why not just face me?”
The question pierces through me, bringing memories I've tried to bury. The fear, the confusion, the overwhelming intensity of everything I felt that night.
“I'm not ready to talk about that,” I say, my voice stronger than I feel. “Not yet.”
Something like disappointment flashes across his face, but he doesn't push. Instead, his lips curve into that dangerous smile I remember from high school.
“Want to be the first to make it to the orgy room?”
“The what?” I prop myself up on one elbow, staring at him.
“The orgy room,” Vane says, as casually as if discussing the weather. “It's the center of the maze. The next portion of the Hunt is conducted there. All hunters and their prey gather there.” His fingers continue their lazy exploration of my skin. “The bell hasn't chimed yet, so we'd probably be the first ones there. You can grab a bottle of water when we get there, keep hydrated. Maybe a protein bar, too. I want you strong enough to keep fucking the entire duration of this Hunt.”
“And what happens in this orgy room other than refueling?”
“Exactly what it sounds like.” His eyes never leave mine. “The hunters who didn't catch someone often get to participate.”
