Page 29

Valeria

M y mind was completely empty. The thundering of my heart sounded in my ears, and my lungs fought for air.

The tight hold of the belt on my neck lessened, and the weight pushing me into the couch slightly lifted.

My fingers were entwined with my stalker's hand, and he was still inside me when I turned my head to the side, seeing only the wave of black hair.

He supported himself on the elbow of his other arm. Otherwise, he would've crushed me, and his painted face was buried in my neck. Yet he didn't move.

"You're heavy," I breathed, unsure how to address him. Freak wasn't very appropriate after he fucked me like the whore from the highway.

"You're delicious," he countered, placing a gentle kiss on my jaw, and my heart fluttered.

Slowly, he pulled away, making me gasp when the cold air brushed my pussy.

I turned on my back, stretching my arms above my head and sighing in contentment.

I watched him as he sat up and placed my legs on his lap, massaging my calf.

With his other hand, he fished a box of cigarettes from the inner pocket of his black suit jacket and lit one.

The heavy smoke filled my nostrils, and I inhaled deeply, instantly craving a dose of nicotine.

I stopped smoking when I got pregnant years ago, but it was still my weakness.

"Want one?" The white eyes met mine, and my insides quivered with unfamiliar excitement. His unusual appearance evoked my deepest dark fantasies, and my pussy clenched happily when a brief thought about him chasing me around the apartment popped up.

I stretched my arm toward him, and he gave me a lit cigarette, watching my every move as I placed it into my mouth and inhaled. It burned in my throat, and I closed my eyes, feeling like a junkie that tasted their favorite drug.

"We are insane," I whispered, looking through hooded eyes at the man responsible for the mess in my head.

My feelings and thoughts were in complete chaos.

There was nothing I could use to justify my behavior or the pleasure I felt when he chased me or put me on a leash.

I loved every fucking second of this freak show, and it scared the shit out of me.

"I never presented myself otherwise, mon c?ur," he replied, one corner of his mouth slightly lifting in a half-smile. It was ridiculous how much effort he put into hiding his identity. Or maybe there was something else behind it.

"Do you like to pretend you're someone else?" I asked, putting out a half-smoked cigarette and lifting myself. "Do you enjoy playing games and disguising yourself?"

I sat on his lap, straddling him and wrapping my arms around his neck. In the dim light, he looked hypnotized by me. Behind all that art was a man enchanted by me, and it fascinated me how easily he got under my skin and between my legs.

Absurdly, like in some twisted reality, my body wished to run away from him only to be chased no matter where I went. I craved being the prey that teased and tormented him. I would love to outplay him in his own game just to lose to the prospect of the sweet, dangerous temptation.

In a short time, he showed me parts of myself I was terrified to see and accept.

But he was no different. Perhaps his desires and fantasies were even crazier than mine, and he liked to see the darkness in me that he elicited.

He opened Pandora's box, and my curiosity was stronger despite the panic that tightened my stomach.

"It's not a game, Valeria. I want you," he stated huskily, moving his hands up my thighs to my hips.

A shiver ran over my entire body, but not from the cold. His words brought to life every cell and nerve in my body. As irrational as it sounded, I believed him .

Years in a marriage with Chester almost killed the passionate woman that I naturally was, but in the arms of my stalker, I blossomed. I’d certainly lost my mind, yet I didn't care. I loved that feeling too much to let it disappear before thoroughly enjoying it.

"Why can't I see your face?" My fingers gently traced the contours of his jaw, nose, cheekbones, and lips, finding nothing else but smooth painted skin.

No scars, marks, or other things could disclose his identity.

He was clean-shaven, and the shades, made with the skillful hand of an artist, deformed his natural features.

There was no way for me to uncover who was hidden under the black and white skull.

"Is my face that important to you?" The evident sadness in his voice made my heart clench, and I slowly moved my fingers to his lips. Delicately, he took hold of my wrist and tenderly kissed my fingertips one by one, waking up butterflies in my stomach.

"At least, tell me your name," I pleaded, moving my hand down his neck and to the buttons of his black shirt. "I don't know what to call you."

"You can give me any name you want," he replied, placing soft pecks on my open palm and continuing to my wrist. My skin tingled every time his lips connected with it, and my pussy impatiently clamped. His touches were torturous yet enchanting to my clouded senses.

"Please, tell me your name," I whispered, pressing my heated core to his groin, desperately trying to ease the ache between my legs.

He let go of my hand, and I grabbed the sides of his shirt, baring his chest and sneaking my palms down to the hem of his pants.

"Don't you want me to scream it when I come? "

I kissed his neck, feeling his rapid pulse under my tongue. His hands squeezed my ass, and he pressed me against his rock-solid erection. I continued kissing his jaw, nose, and the corner of his mouth. He slightly turned his head, and then, unexpectedly, it happened—our first real kiss.

In the beginning, it was just a gentle brush, as tender as butterfly wings, yet my body buzzed with excitement anyway.

Our mouths moved together, and my tongue darted out to taste him, meeting him halfway and turning it into a passionate make-out session.

My fingers entangled in his hair, tugging on it because I felt as though I needed something to hold on to.

The world around me shattered. Nothing existed but him and me.

My entire being craved more of him, more kisses and touches, more everything, and as if he could read my thoughts, he gently entered me, making me whimper at the sudden intrusion.

He was huge but fitted perfectly in my tight pussy. I felt every inch of him, and when he withdrew a little and my inner walls adjusted, the feeling of him filling me was otherworldly.

I disconnected our lips, grasped his shoulders for support, and circled my pelvis to intensify the pleasure.

My mind couldn't focus on any questions or ideas to get answers from him when he lifted me a little and slid me down his cock.

My moans resonated through the small living room and grew louder with every move I made.

"Fuck! It feels so good!" I cried out when he licked and sucked my nipples. My hand found my clit, and the additional pressure almost shot me into the stratosphere.

My climax was already so close when he stopped me in the middle of my ferocious bouncing on his cock, and grabbed my throat tightly, forcing me to look into his eyes.

"My name is Zefarin," he said breathily, and my lips stretched into a wide smile. “Remember that, mon c?ur.”

He kissed me, grasping my hips and pounding into me while I met him mid-way. The whole world was a blur; my head tilted back, and my eyes rolled when my body exploded in bliss.

He finished soon after me, moaning into my neck. I wrapped my arms around him, keeping him as close as possible.

It was only the slightest change, but I had scratched the wall he built around himself. It wasn't much, yet I at least knew his name. He gave me something, the tiniest hope that I might know him one day.

Of course, he could be lying to me, but I decided to believe him. I made a bold and probably stupid choice and chose to accept him as he was. Hopefully, along the way, I will accept this new version of myself that I liked much more than the previous one.