Page 36

36

REMY

T hrough the security feeds, I watch Eden moving through her end-of-day routine at the podcast booth. Her fingers dance across the equipment, powering everything down with practiced efficiency. The carnival grounds stretch empty and dark around her, rides standing silent against the star-filled sky.

I shift position behind a row of game stalls, keeping to the shadows. My boots make no sound on the packed earth as I track her movements. She pauses, head tilting as if she’s sensed something. Good. I want her aware, want that delicious tension building.

The note I left waits in her bag, carefully placed where she’ll find it: “Run, little stalker. I’m coming for you.” Our agreed signal is that the game is on. My pulse quickens as she reaches for her bag, knowing the moment approaches.

Her breath catches when she finds it. Even from here, I can see her breathing grow quick and shallow as she reads those few words. Her head snaps up, scanning the darkness surrounding her. Smart girl, but she won’t spot me. Not until I want her to.

She backs away from the booth, cautious in every movement now. The click of her shoes on the wooden platform seems impossibly loud in the silence. A twig snaps somewhere in the shadows—not from me, but it makes her jump. The fear response looks beautiful on her.

Eden runs, heading for the tree line behind the carnival just as we planned. Her dark hair streams behind her as she disappears into the woods. My lips curl into a predatory smile as I give her the head start we discussed.

The hunt begins. The carnival lights dim behind us as I follow her trail into the darkness, savoring each moment of pursuit. This is what we both need—this dance of predator and willing prey.

The mask feels right against my skin as I stalk through the trees. Her footprints leave clear tracks in the soft earth, and she’s not trying to hide them.

The rope trap waits ahead, nearly invisible in the darkness. I slow, watching her silhouette move closer to the trigger point. My breath comes faster beneath the mask, anticipation building as she approaches.

A sharp gasp pierces the night. The rope snaps tight, and Eden’s body jerks upward. The trap works perfectly, suspending her above the ground, legs bound together as she dangles upside down. Her hands grasp uselessly at the air as she swings gently, helplessly.

“Remy?” Her voice carries equal parts fear and excitement. She twists in the rope, trying to spot me in the darkness.

I emerge from the shadows, letting her take in my predatory stance. My boots crush fallen leaves as I circle her suspended form. She follows my movement with wide eyes, breath coming in quick pants.

The rope creaks as she struggles weakly, testing her bonds. We both know it’s futile. I’ve left her completely at my mercy, exactly as she fantasized in those journal entries.

I pause my circling, standing directly in front of Eden. Her body sways gently in the rope trap, dark hair hanging down like a curtain. The moonlight catches the tears gathering in her eyes.

“Please...” she whispers. “Stop.”

The word sends a jolt through me. Our agreed signal is that she wants to play this scene out fully. My hand shoots out, gripping her chin roughly.

“Stop?” I growl through the mask. “You watched me. Obsessed over me. And now you want me to stop?”

Eden’s breath hitches. “I-I was wrong. I shouldn’t have... please just let me go.”

My fingers tighten on her jaw. “Too late for that. Far too late.”

“No,” she whimpers, struggling against the ropes. “Someone help! Please!”

Her cries echo through the empty woods. We both know no one will hear her. That’s why we chose this spot, far from prying eyes or ears.

“Scream all you want,” I tell her, running my other hand down her exposed throat. “No one’s coming to save you.”

“Don’t do this,” Eden begs. Tears spill down her temples now. “I won’t tell anyone what I saw. Just let me go.”

I lean in close, my mask brushing her ear. “But I want you to tell them, little stalker. I want you to remember everything I do to you.”

Her whole body trembles at my words. “Please... stop...”

Her pleading turns me on even more. I can’t resist taking the game further. With swift movements, I tear at her clothes, ripping the fabric to expose her body. She tries to twist away but is completely at my mercy, trapped and vulnerable in the ropes.

Her chest heaves as I move closer, pulling a knife from my jacket. I slice through the remaining straps, careful to avoid her skin. Fabric falls away, baring her to the night air.

“Please...” The word is barely audible.

“Shh, little stalker. Isn’t this your fantasy?” I run the knife gently along her collarbone, down between her breasts. “To be caught, exposed... helpless.”

She squeezes her eyes shut as if she can escape me through denial. But her body betrays her, nipples tightening as the night air caresses her skin. I let the blade trace a path down her stomach, enjoying her helplessness.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” I whisper, standing so close she can feel the heat of my body. My free hand catches her chin, forcing her eyes open. “Look at me. See who’s caught you.”

Those green eyes, wide with desire, hold mine for a long moment. I claim Eden’s mouth in a fierce kiss despite the fact she’s still hanging upside down, my tongue invading her mouth upside down as thoroughly as I plan to dominate her body.

When I break the kiss, her lips are swollen, and her breath comes in short gasps. I step back, take in her exposed form, and strip off my shirt. The night wind teases my skin, matching the heat of my arousal.

I move to the ropes I prepared earlier, hidden in the shadows of nearby trees. The moonlight catches the thick cords as I pull them taut. Eden’s body sways gently in her suspended position, completely at my mercy.

Approaching her again, I grasp her wrists firmly. She struggles weakly, but we both know it’s just part of our game. The rope feels rough against my palms as I secure her arms, creating an intricate pattern to hold her weight safely.

With practiced movements, I adjust the tension on both sets of ropes. Eden’s body lifts higher, suspended between four points instead of just the ankle trap. Her form creates a graceful arc in the air.

I test each knot carefully, ensuring they’re secure but not too tight. Years of working with rigging at the carnival have taught me the importance of proper rope work. Eden’s breathing steadies as she feels the security of my expert ties.

The night wind whispers through the trees. Eden hangs suspended in my web of ropes, completely immobilized. Perfect.

Her body is perfect, suspended, and waiting. I use the blade to tease her skin. Her breath catches as the cool metal dances over sensitive places, mapping the contours of her breasts, her ribs, and the curves of her hips. I take my time, wanting to savor every reaction.

Her voice is hoarse when she speaks, fighting against the bindings. “Let me go. You don’t want to do this.”

But we both know that’s a lie. Eden might play the part of an unwilling victim, but she wants this as much as I do.

Goosebumps rise on her skin, her nipples tightening to points in the cool air.

“Please...” she whispers, a tremor running through her body. “I don’t want this.”

Her eyes flicker shut, long lashes casting shadows on her flushed cheeks. I smile, knowing this dance of resistance and surrender. She pretends to resist my touch each time, pretending she’s not craving more.

The night wind caresses her bare skin, accentuating the beauty of her form. Her breasts rise and fall with each rapid breath, nipples taut. Her bound arms strain against the ropes, their intricate patterns pressing against her skin.

With deliberate slowness, I reach for her again, needing her response. My fingers trail along the curve of her breast, circling her nipple but avoiding it. She holds her breath, a soft whimper escaping as I deny her release.

“Tell me again,” I growl, my voice hoarse. “Tell me what you don’t want.”

Her back arches. “Don’t touch me,” she gasps. “Don’t do this to me.”

I love the game we play, the battle of desire and denial. My fingers trace lower, ghosting over the curve of her belly. She strains away from my touch, but the ropes offer no escape.

“Who am I, little stalker?” I ask, letting my fingers dip lower into her wet cunt.

“No...” Her hips buck, an instinctive reaction that exposes her need. “Please... don’t.”

“Tell me,” I demand, thrusting my fingers inside her.

She cries out as I stretch her, fill her. Her body clenches around me, betraying her words. “You’re my captor,” she gasps. “Please, let me go...”

I withdraw my fingers, slick with her arousal. She makes a soft noise of protest, hips thrusting forward in search of more. I chuckle, raising my fingers to my mouth and tasting her.

Her taste on my lips fuels my need, intensifying the ache coiled tight in my body. Her skin shines with a layer of sweat, moonlight casting silver highlights on her glistening form.

She struggles weakly, but her strength is no match for my ropes.

“Please,” she whispers again, the word like a needle in my mind. “No more.”

But I have no intention of stopping. Not when her scent drives me mad, or her body is laid out for me like a feast. I will savor every inch of her, take what I want when I want it.

I lower myself to my knees, keeping my eyes locked on hers as I lift the mask. Eden watches me with anticipation in her gaze. When she realizes my intention, a soft gasp escapes her.

I waste no time. My tongue and lips claim her pussy, feasting on her arousal as she hangs helplessly. She cries out, hips bucking, her body desperate for more.

My hands clutch her bound thighs, holding her in place as I work my magic. Her cries echo through the trees, music to my ears.

I nip at her, not enough to cause pain but enough to send shocks through her body. Her body tenses as I thrust my tongue deep inside her. Her hands clench into fists, the ropes biting into her skin.

“Oh fuck,” she moans. “Remy, please...”

Hearing my name on her lips sends a thrill through me. I suckle her, my fingers delving into the slick folds of her cunt. My tongue teases her swollen clit, drawing out her pleasure.

Her cries become more urgent. I love the way she sounds completely wrecked, the sounds of her pleasure filling the night air. I growl in response, my tongue and fingers moving faster.

Her back bows, ropes creaking as she strains against her bonds. Her muscles tense, body rigid—and then she’s coming, crying out my name. Her arousal fills my mouth.

Even as her orgasm washes over her, I don’t stop. I lap at her greedily, drawing out her pleasure, reveling in her taste.

I slip my mask back to hide my smile as I straighten. Her chest heaves, breasts rising and falling rapidly, nipples tight. I stroke her bound arms, feeling the tension in the ropes, knowing she’s still sensitive, aroused, and desperate for more.

Meeting her gaze, I ask, “Ready for more, little stalker?”

Her eyes widen at my question, and she knows our game. Even as she denies it, her body aches for more. I see it in the way her bound wrists strain against the ropes, her chest heaving with rapid breaths.

“No,” she replies, but her tone lacks conviction. “Please, that’s enough.”

I chuckle, already shedding my pants, eager to feel her around me. “Last chance to change your mind, baby. This could get rough.”

Her lips press together. She knows the rules. She knows the safe word. If she doesn’t use it, we both know she wants it.

“No more,” she gasps, the pretense thinning. “Please, it’s too much.”

I step between her wide-spread thighs, positioning myself at her entrance. Her body is bared and vulnerable, open and offered to me. I curl my fingers around her thighs, preparing to thrust.

“Last chance,” I say, watching her face. “Say it, and I’ll stop.”

The pulse point in her throat throbs as she swallows hard. She could say it. She could use the safe word. But she doesn’t.

I push inside her pussy, enjoying her sharp intake of breath as I fill her. Her body stretches to accommodate me.

With each thrust, her body sways in the ropes, exposed and helpless. Her cries echo through the forest, and I know she’s pushing her voice louder, wanting her fictional pleas to be heard.

“That’s it, scream for me,” I growl, pulling out almost completely before slamming back into her. “Let them hear how much you want it.”

I give another fierce thrust, groaning as her cunt clenches around me. She’s so tight, and I know how good it feels for her, how hard she’s struggling not to lose control.

“You love it,” I accuse, voice rough. “Admit it.”

“No...” But her words are breathless, yielding. Her head tosses back as I withdraw and thrust deep again.

Her resistance is exactly what I crave. That fight makes me harder and intensifies my need to possess her completely. I grip her thighs, marking her perfect skin with the pressure of my fingers.

With each brutal stroke, I watch her body respond, see the flush of pleasure and pain on her skin, smell her arousal, and hear the needy little noises she tries to suppress. She wants to play the innocent victim, but her body betrays her.

Her cries echo through the woods, but I crave more volume, more desperation. With my free hand, I strike her exposed breast, enjoying the satisfying slap of skin on skin. She bucks against me, a startled cry escaping her lips.

“You like that?” I taunt, knowing the answer. “You like the pain?”

“No,” she insists, but the denial comes too late. Her swollen clit, so tightly bound, betrays her. She’s so wet, so ready.

I bite back a groan as I plunge into her. “Liar.” Each thrust pulls another little cry from her, turning her flesh raw and exposing her to the night air. Only when she’s marked by me, body throbbing with my possession, will I be satisfied.

And when she’s begging me to stop, when her gorgeous flesh is throbbing and sore, when her voice is hoarse from all her pleading... that’s when I’ll really get started. That’s when I’ll enjoy breaking her in the best ways possible.

“Remy, wait!” Her voice takes on a different tone I haven’t heard before. I pause, looking down at her bare, bound body, ropes cutting into her perfect skin.

“Too much?” I ask, even though I don’t want to stop. Her flesh is so inviting, and there’s so much more I want to do to her. She’s just so damn beautiful like this.

“The ropes,” she whispers, sounding uncomfortable for the first time. “My hands are numb.”

My eyes trail along her bound arms, taking in the intricate patterns I’ve woven. I’ve tied her up like this a dozen times, and she’s always loved it. But the ropes have been biting into her skin for a while now, and I realize I’ve underestimated how long we’ve been playing. It’s harder for her to escape the pain this time.

“You want me to let you down?” I ask, reluctantly reaching for my knife. I don’t want to stop; the night is young, and my dark needs are far from satisfied.

“I can’t feel my fingers,” she admits, biting her lip. “Please, just... give me some slack.”

I sigh, stepping back and cutting the ropes. Eden rubs her wrists to restore circulation when her hands are free. I quickly move to her ankles, slicing through the remaining bindings. She sits up, hugging her knees to her chest as blood rushes back into her hands. I tamp down my disappointment that the night’s entertainment is ending early.

Eden huddles in the dirt, shivering as the night breeze teases her bound breasts and exposed skin. Her wrists and ankles are lined with angry red marks from the ropes, and guilt flutters in my stomach. I didn’t mean to take it that far, but it’s hard to control myself when she looks so tempting. So damn desirable.

“Are you okay?” I ask, kneeling in front of her, wanting to touch but knowing she might not welcome it.

She shrugs, still huddled in on herself. “Yeah. Just... being suspended from a tree was new. I wasn’t expecting that.”

I bite my inner cheek. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

She shrugs. “No, I liked it. I just...”

“It’s fine,” I assure her, shifting closer despite her attempt to hide her nudity from me. “I like that you have limits too. It means I can still surprise you. Why didn’t you say the safe word.”

A small smile quirks her lips, warming me despite the chill night air. “You definitely did that.” She places her hands on my chest. “Because I didn’t want you to stop.” She rises on her tiptoes and kisses me. “I never want you to stop,” she breathes.

My body responds immediately to her touch, the hunger stirring in my gut again as I deepen her kiss. I wonder if she’s trying to distract me, to lead this back to the path we were on before for more.

Hell, I hope so.