Page 75 of Stalked
“Slow down, wildflower,” he commands, his hand pressing firmly against my stomach to still my frantic pace. “The feast goes on for hours. We've got lots of time to come.” His fingers trace my collarbone. “Enjoy the food. Savor the sensation of me inside you while you eat.”
I whimper but obey, forcing myself to slow my movements to an agonizing pace. Each languid roll of my hips sends pleasure spiraling through me without pushing me over the edge.
“Good girl,” Vane murmurs, rewarding me with a piece of cheese.
I surrender to his guidance, letting him control the pace, the pleasure, the feast. My body remains poised on the edge of release, but I savor the building tension rather than racing toward climax.
As I rock gently on Vane's lap, the conversations around us fade to white noise. My mind drifts, focusing entirely on the man beneath me, inside me.
Fifteen years. I wasted fifteen years running from this—from him. From us.
The way Vane looks at me has always terrified me. Not because I feared him, but because I feared how completely I wanted to be ruined by him. That night after prom, when he claimed me for the first time, I felt something crack open inside me—a need so overwhelming it threatened to consume everything I'd carefully planned for my future.
So I ran. Columbia. New York. The Red Room. All those dominants who never quite measured up, who never knew exactly how to touch me, to speak to me. None of them was him.
Now, with his hands on my body, I can't help wondering how different things might have been if I'd stayed. Would we have built something together? Would his obsession have mellowedinto something sustainable, or would it have burned us both to ashes?
30
VANE
Lia’s inner walls clench around my cock with such perfect pressure it nearly drives me insane. She throws her head back against my shoulder, eyes shut tight, lips parted in a silent scream. Fuck, she's magnificent when she comes.
“That's it, wildflower,” I murmur against her ear as she struggles through the aftershocks.
The feast continues around us—moans and bodies colliding, the smell of sex and sweat mingling with the aroma of gourmet food. But my focus narrows to just Lia as her breathing slowly evens out. Her body grows heavier against mine.
I use a mirrored goblet on the table to see her eyes closed, lips parted. She's actually fallen asleep. Right here, in the middle of an orgy, with me inside her. Something primal and possessive swells in my chest.
Adjusting my position, careful not to wake her, my hand traces lazy patterns across her stomach. She's fucking perfect—completely relaxed and trusting in my arms while chaos and debauchery continue mere feet away.
Marcus, across the room, catches my eye, giving me a questioning look as he notices my sleeping prize. I respond with a smirk and a slight nod, unashamed pride radiating throughme. I've satisfied her so thoroughly that she's comfortable enough to surrender to sleep, surrounded by strangers engaged in every imaginable act.
I pull down my mask to press a gentle kiss to her temple, breathing in the scent of her hair. I'm completely fucking ruined for anyone else. Always have been, from the moment I first saw her. Something about this woman has always called to the darkest parts of me, demanding complete possession.
Carefully, I reach for a soft blanket folded nearby, draping it over her—not out of modesty, but because I don't want her getting cold. My hands return to her skin beneath the covering, tracing the curves I've memorized, the marks I've left.
“Sleep, wildflower,” I whisper. “I've got you.”
I catch movement across the room and spot Landon, my psychotic younger brother, watching us with that analytical stare of his. Even with his white skull mask covering the lower half of his face, I can read his expression. That raised eyebrow is him judging me for wrapping my prey in a blanket and allowing her to sleep.
He tilts his head slightly, eyes darting between me and the sleeping woman in my arms. The question is clear:Why are you letting her fucking sleep?
I raise my middle finger in Landon's direction. His eyes crinkle slightly—the closest thing to a laugh I'll get from him in public. Fuck him and his judgment. He's always been too controlled, too calculating, even with his girl on his cock, he’s taunting me. He doesn't understand what it means to want someone like this—obsessively for fifteen fucking years.
My stomach growls, reminding me I haven't eaten since he gave me that protein bar earlier. The table beside us is laden with platters of food—grapes, cheeses, sliced meats arranged in a decadent display. I reach for a cluster of grapes, movingcarefully. Lia’s breathing remains steady against my chest, soft and even.
I pop a grape into my mouth, savoring the burst of sweetness. At the same time, my other hand continues tracing patterns on her skin beneath the blanket. Despite her being completely relaxed in sleep, I'm still rock hard inside her. Her body fits perfectly around me, like she was made specifically for this—for me.
The pressure of her weight, the warmth of her surrounding me—it's fucking intoxicating. I could stay like this for hours, just feeling her breathe, knowing she's finally where she belongs. My wildflower, home at last.
I keep one hand possessively curved around Lia's waist beneath the blanket as I watch the room. These fuckers have no idea what it took to get her here or that the weight of her against me feels like victory incarnate.
A soft groan escapes Lia's lips as she shifts slightly in my lap, her body tightening around my still-hard cock. I suppress a groan, leaning down to nip at her earlobe.
“Still with me, wildflower?” I murmur.
Before she can fully wake, Xavier's voice cuts through the room like a knife. My brother always did have a way of commanding attention without raising his voice—something I've never mastered.
