Page 73 of Stalked
“Push it out,” I demand. “Show me how well I've filled you.”
Lia obeys without hesitation, bearing down as my release begins to trickle from her. I watch, mesmerized, as evidence of my claim slides down her thighs.
“That's it,” I murmur, running my finger through the mess, then bringing it to her lips. She opens her mouth automatically, sucking my finger clean. “Perfect. You're fucking perfect.”
I walk around to stand before her and lean in, capturing her mouth in a bruising kiss before pulling back to look into her eyes.
“You're mine, wildflower,” I tell her, cupping her face. “You've always been mine, and now everyone here knows it. You're mine forever.”
The sight of her—suspended, marked, claimed—fills me with fierce pride. This woman, this goddess who's haunted my dreams, is finally where she belongs. I thought the chasewas what I craved, but now I know—having her surrender completely is the true victory. No more running, no more games. Just Lia, mine at last.
29
LIA
The warm water has loosened my muscles, washing away the delicious ache from Vane's enthusiastic attention. My skin feels new, sensitized from the bath oils and his touch. As Vane helps me from the bath, wrapping me in a plush towel, I feel oddly cherished despite the primal claiming I’ve experienced.
“Come,” he says, guiding me toward a door I hadn't noticed before. “It's time for the feast.”
“I'm starving,” I admit. The physical exertion has left me ravenous.
His hands tighten possessively on my hips. “There's a tradition during the Hunt feast,” Vane explains, his voice low and rough against my ear. “All prey sit on their hunter's cock while they eat.”
I turn to face him, surprised not by the requirement but by how much the idea appeals to me. “Good,” I say, running my fingers along the hard plane of his chest. “I'm going to love warming your cock.”
His eyes darken behind the emerald mask. Before I realize what's happening, Vane tugs his mask down and captures mybottom lip between his teeth, biting just hard enough to send a shock of pleasure-pain through me before kissing me deeply.
When he pulls back, I'm breathless again. “I thought keeping the masks on was part of the tradition?” I ask.
“It is,” he admits, sliding his mask back into place. “I can't seem to help myself with you.” His hand cups my face, thumb brushing over my swollen lip. “You're so fucking irresistible.”
I lean into his touch, craving more of his mouth on mine. “I like seeing your face,” I confess. “All of it, not just those beautiful eyes, but your sexy as fuck mouth.”
“You'll have plenty of time for that,” he promises, leading me toward the sounds of conversation and clinking glasses. “But first, I intend to feel you wrapped around me while I feed you from my fingers.”
I moan as Vane's hand slides possessively around my waist, guiding me down a corridor lit by flickering sconces. The warm bath has left me languid, but his touch awakens that constant hunger I've felt since I set eyes on him again.
“Everyone will see who you belong to,” he murmurs against my ear.
We approach two massive mahogany doors carved with intricate scenes that I don't have time to decipher before they swing open, revealing a grand dining hall. My breath catches at the sight.
Around a sprawling glass table, hunters already sit in high-backed chairs—their prey standing beside them, others alone, watching the door with predatory interest. The air smells of rich food and desire, heavy with anticipation.
My eyes scan the room until they land on a familiar figure. Elliot Chambers—my boss, the sophisticated art dealer who hired me—stands beside a hunter's chair, but positioned like prey.
Our gazes lock across the room. His eyes widen, recognition flashing before he quickly looks away, a flush creeping up his neck.
The realization hits me like a physical force. Elliot was one of the men in the orgy room—one of the three I'd watched engaged in passionate sex before Vane had suspended me from the ceiling.
“Your boss seems uncomfortable,” Vane whispers, amusement lacing his tone. “Did you know he played for both teams?“
I shake my head. “I suspected, but... seeing is believing.”
Vane's grip tightens, drawing me back against his hard chest. “Come, wildflower.” He pulls out a high-backed chair at the glass table and lowers himself into it.
“Stand by my side,” he commands, his voice a dark caress. “It's the rules for now, but soon you'll be sitting right where you belong.”
His hand trails possessively down my hip, which is clothed in a black dress. I almost feel overdressed after spending most of the Hunt up to now completely naked. My thighs tremble with anticipation, my body responding to his promise despite the multiple orgasms he's already given me. I'm greedy for more of him, and the thought of being impaled on him while surrounded so closely by other people sends a fresh pulse of heat between my legs.
