Page 86 of Stalked
She shifts slightly, causing us both to inhale sharply at the sensation. The intimacy of this moment—her warmthsurrounding me, her weight on my lap, the domesticity of feeding her—strikes me as something I never thought I'd have.
“You feel so good,” I murmur, reaching for a strawberry and pressing it against her lips.
I can't maintain this slow pace anymore. The sight of Lia's lips closing around the strawberry, the little sounds she makes as she savors the taste—it's too much.
“Enough teasing,” I growl. “On the table. Now.”
Her eyes widen with excitement as I clear the dishes with one sweep of my arm. Plates clatter but don't break as they skid to the other side of the table. I spin her around, bending her over the table's edge, my shirt riding up to expose her perfect ass.
“So fucking beautiful,” I murmur, dropping to my knees behind her. I spread her legs wider, exposing her wet pussy to my hungry gaze. “Can never get enough of eating this pretty cunt.”
I dive in without preamble, my tongue flat against her center before circling her clit. Lia cries out, her hands scrambling for purchase on the smooth tabletop. I grip her hips, holding her in place as I devour her.
“Vane,” she gasps. “Oh god, yes.”
I slide two fingers inside her, curling them to find that spot that makes her shudder. When I feel her thighs begin to tremble, I double my efforts, sucking her clit between my lips while my fingers pump steadily.
“Come for me, wildflower,” I command against her flesh. “Let me taste how much you need me.”
Her back arches beautifully as she shatters, crying out my name as her walls clench around my fingers. I work her through it, not relenting until she's whimpering from sensitivity.
I stand, positioning myself behind her, the head of my cock teasing her entrance.
“Please,” she begs, looking back at me over her shoulder.
I thrust forward in one smooth motion, burying myself to the hilt. We both groan at the sensation.
“Fuck, Lia,” I pant, setting a punishing pace. “Never letting you go again.”
Her body takes me perfectly, as if she were made for me. I grip her hips hard enough to leave marks, claiming her with each thrust.
“Fill me,” she pleads. “Fill my pussy with your cum, Vane.”
Those words push me over the edge. I drive deep inside her one last time, emptying myself with a guttural groan, marking her from the inside in the most primal way possible.
As the last pulses of pleasure subside, a singular clarity washes over me. Fifteen years of waiting, of watching, of wanting—all for this moment of perfect convergence. She ran once, but the Hunt is over now. Whatever game we began in my high school bedroom has finally reached its checkmate, with both king and queen still standing on the board.
34
LIA
My fingers trace the rope marks on my wrists as I wait for my coffee. Every movement reminds me of Vane—his touch, his voice, his possessive grip. After fifteen years of running, I've surrendered completely to him, and the most terrifying part is how right it feels.
When Vane left this morning—his brothers blowing up his phone about missing some meeting—the silence in my apartment felt suffocating. I needed to get out, to breathe, to process the Hunt and the hours following.
“One oat milk latte,” the barista calls, sliding my cup across the counter.
As I turn to find a seat, I collide with someone, nearly spilling my drink.
“Shit, sorry!” A woman with striking violet-blue eyes steadies my cup with graceful hands. “I’ve got good reflexes,” she explains with a quick smile. “Saved your caffeine.”
I recognize her immediately—one of the other Hunt participants, Keira, I think her name was. She was claimed by two twin brothers.
“You're Lia, right?” She extends her hand. “I'm Keira Valentino. We met at the Hunt briefly.”
“I remember,” I confirm, shaking her hand.
“Listen, I don't know about you, but I could use some company with my coffee.” Keira gestures to a small mark visible on her collarbone. “Hunt aftermath and all.”
