Page 13

13

RYKER

I check my wristwatch, counting the seconds of Kira’s head start. The digital numbers blink methodically—four minutes left, then three. My pulse quickens with each passing moment. The basement air feels electric against my skin.

I track her movements through the security monitors on the wall behind me. She’s disoriented, taking wrong turns already. I designed this maze with psychological torture in mind—corridors that seem to lead somewhere only to dead-end, paths that circle back on themselves. Even if she had an hour, she might never find the center.

Two minutes remaining. I slide the ghost mask over my face, feeling the familiar contours press against my skin. It’s become more than a disguise—it’s a transformation. When the mask covers my face, I become something beyond human constraints.

One minute. My cock strains against my pants as I watch her naked body fleeing through the corridors. When she glances back, I imagine the fear in her eyes. She doesn’t realize yet that this isn’t about escape. It’s about the hunt.

Zero. Time’s up.

“Ready or not,” I call out, voice echoing through the maze’s speaker system. “I’m coming to find you.”

I enter the labyrinth at a measured pace. No need to rush—the maze funnel design ensures she’ll eventually hit major blockades that force her toward the center through increasingly difficult routes. I know every corner, every shadow. I built this place inch by inch and tested every angle.

Her breathing reaches me from somewhere ahead—quick, panicked gasps. I follow the sound, my footsteps deliberately heavy on the concrete floor. I want her to hear me coming.

My arousal builds with each step, my body responding to the thrill of the chase. The knowledge that she’s mine—has always been mine—floods my system with heat. She’s running naked through my creation, exactly as I’ve imagined countless times.

“I can smell your fear, Kira,” I call out, tracking her footprints in the thin layer of dust I deliberately left on the floor. “And I’m going to enjoy claiming my prize.”

I stalk through the corridors, my fingertips grazing the walls I built with my own hands. Every turn, every dead end—all designed with her in mind. My creation for my obsession.

The sound of her bare feet slapping against concrete sends jolts of pleasure through me. She’s running from me now, but soon she’ll run toward me. Soon, she’ll see that everything—the cameras, the games, the masks—was always about bringing us to this moment.

“I hear you breathing, Mischief,” I call out, using the nickname that’s bounced around in my skull since I first found her under her gaming username.

Blood rushes in my ears as I catch a glimpse of her naked form darting around a corner. The flash of skin makes my mouth dry. My fingers twitch with the need to claim, mark, and possess.

I could catch her now if I wanted to. I’ve memorized every inch of this labyrinth; I could cut her off at any juncture. But the chase—God, the chase is intoxicating. Her fear perfumes the air, and I inhale deeply, letting it fill my lungs.

“You can’t escape what’s meant to be,” I call out, quickening my pace. “I’ve spent two years learning every detail about you, Kira. Your gaming patterns, sleep schedule, the way you touch yourself when you think no one’s watching.”

I round a corner and spot her pressed against a wall, chest heaving, eyes wild. For a moment, our gazes lock before she bolts again. The terror in her eyes only inflames me further.

“That’s it, run faster. Make me hunt you properly.” My voice echoes through the concrete corridor. “I want to earn my prize.”

I’ve never felt more alive than at this moment. With its rules and consequences, the outside world might as well not exist. There’s only her, me, and the maze.

I slow my pace deliberately, letting the echo of my footsteps fade. The following silence is delicious—I can practically hear her heartbeat pounding through the concrete walls. I know exactly where she is: in the third corridor, approaching the false exit. I designed that particular dead end to inspire hope before crushing it.

“You’re getting warmer,” I call out, my voice bouncing off the walls, making it impossible for her to pinpoint my location. “But I’m getting hot.”

I take a shortcut through a hidden passage, emerging two turns ahead of where she’s headed. When she realizes I’m manipulating her path, the look of shock on her face will be exquisite. My body thrums with anticipation.

I hear her breathing change—she thinks she’s found an escape route. The maze’s trick lighting makes the path ahead of her glow faintly, beckoning her forward. She doesn’t know I control everything—the lights, the sounds, even the subtle air currents that draw her deeper.

“Tell me,” I murmur into the microphone clipped to my collar, my voice suddenly surrounding her from hidden speakers. “Do you feel like prey yet?”

I hear her gasp, followed by her sprinting in the opposite direction. I chuckle, adjusting a dial on my wrist controller that seals off the corridor she’s running toward. The soft hiss of hydraulics echoes through the maze as a panel slides into place.

“That’s not fair!” Her voice bounces back to me, frustration and fear spiking.

“I never said I played fair,” I respond, scuffing my boot against the floor so she can hear how close I am. “Only that I play to win.”

I round the corner silently, catching sight of her naked back as she presses herself against a wall. Her skin glistens with sweat, muscles tense beneath smooth flesh.

I drink in the sight of her naked form pressed against the concrete. She doesn’t know I’m here yet—doesn’t sense me just feet away, savoring the final moments of the hunt. Her breathing comes in short, panicked bursts, her shoulders rising and falling with each gasp. My Mischief, cornered at last.

“Found you,” I announce.

She spins around, eyes wide with terror and something that makes my blood sing. Recognition, desire, hate—all of it is beautiful on her face.

I lunge forward before she can bolt again, my body crashing into hers. The impact knocks the air from her lungs in a satisfying gasp. My hands find her wrists, pinning them above her head against the cold wall in one smooth motion. Our bodies press together—her soft, naked flesh against my clothed form, a deliberate power imbalance I planned from the start.

“Caught you,” I growl, tightening my grip on her wrists. Her pulse hammers against my palm—a frantic, trapped bird. “Now you’re mine to claim.”

She struggles against me, her body writhing in a way that only hardens my cock further. I push my hips forward, pinning her more firmly to the wall. The concrete must feel like ice against her bare back, but I don’t care. I want her uncomfortable. I want her to be aware of every sensation.

“Stop fighting,” I command, pressing harder until she whimpers. “You’re exactly where you’re meant to be.”

I shift her wrists to one hand, my fingers encircling her delicate bones. My free hand grabs her jaw, forcing her to gaze at me through the eyeholes of my mask. Her pupils are dilated, black, nearly swallowing the color of her irises.

“Level two complete,” I say. “But you didn’t win, Mischief, and now it’s time to pay up.”

I release her wrists but keep my body pressed against hers, trapping her between the cold concrete and my heat. My hand slides down her throat, feeling her pulse race beneath my fingertips.

“Last night, I gave you pleasure.” My thumb traces her bottom lip. “Made you come until you screamed for me. Remember?”

Her eyes flash with defiance, but I catch the involuntary shiver that runs through her naked body.

“Now it’s your turn to please me.”

I step back just enough to create space between us, my hand moving to her shoulder. The pressure is firm, unmistakable.

“Down.”

She resists, of course. I expect it and welcome it. The fight in her eyes only makes my cock harder.

“I said down, Kira.” I apply more pressure, making her knees tremble with the effort to remain standing. “Don’t make me force you more than I already am.”

My free hand moves to her hair, tangling in the strands tight enough to restrain without hurting. I guide her downward, the pressure on her shoulder increasing until her knees finally connect with the concrete floor. The position brings her face level with my crotch, exactly where I’ve imagined her countless times.

“There’s my good girl,” I murmur, tightening my grip on her hair. “You’re learning.”

I hold her hair to tilt her face toward mine, even as I keep her kneeling. Through the eyeholes of my mask, I lock my gaze with hers, savoring the conflict I see there—fear wrestling with something darker, something she’s not ready to acknowledge.

“Now, Mischief,” I say, my voice dropping lower, “you’re going to give back what I gave you last night. And I expect enthusiasm.”

I unzip my pants slowly, deliberately. Kira’s eyes track the movement of my hand. The sound of the zipper teeth separating fills the concrete corridor. Her breathing quickens—fear or arousal, it hardly matters. Both feed my hunger.

“Open,” I command.

She presses her lips together, defiance flashing in her eyes. Predictable. Beautiful. I’ve anticipated every response and planned for every moment of resistance.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” I tell her. “But make no mistake, this is happening.”

I outline the shape of her lower lip with my thumb, applying pressure to the soft flesh until she gasps. The moment her lips part, I push my thumb inside, feeling the wet heat of her mouth.

“That’s it,” I murmur, my thumb exploring her mouth. “Show me what that pretty mouth can do.”

I withdraw my thumb and replace it with two fingers, pushing deeper, making her take them to the knuckle. Her throat constricts as she struggles not to gag.

“Suck,” I order.

Something shifts in her eyes—perhaps resignation or the dawning realization that fighting only prolongs the inevitable. Her lips close around my fingers, and the wet heat of her mouth envelops me. The sight of her on her knees, naked and vulnerable, taking my fingers between her lips, nearly undoes me.

“Good girl,” I praise, removing my fingers from her mouth to free my cock from my boxers. “Now show me how much you want the real thing.”

I tug Kira’s hair harder, forcing her mouth toward my cock. The power coursing through me is intoxicating—her naked, vulnerable body kneeling before me in my maze, exactly as I’ve imagined countless times. When I dreamed of this moment, designing every detail of this labyrinth, I knew it would feel good. But this—this transcends imagination.

“Open wider,” I command, pressing the head of my cock against her lips. “That’s it.”

Her mouth trembles as it stretches around me. I push forward slowly, savoring each millimeter of her tight little throat engulfing me. Beneath my mask, I grit my teeth against the rush of sensation.

“I want to see your eyes while you take me.” I tighten my grip on her hair until her eyes lift to mine.

The conflicting emotions in her gaze only fuel my arousal—fear dancing with something she’s fighting against recognizing. Her resistance is crumbling. I can feel it in the way her tongue hesitantly moves against the underside of my cock.

“That’s it, angel. Show me what that mouth can do.”

I thrust deeper. Her hands brace against my thighs, not pushing away but steadying herself. A subtle shift—her first genuine surrender.

“You’ve thought about this,” I tell her. “I’ve heard you whisper ‘Ghost’ when you think no one’s listening.”

Her throat contracts around me as she tries to pull back, but my hand in her hair holds her firmly in place.

“No running now.” My voice drops lower, rougher. “We both know you’ve wanted this—wanted me—for longer than you’re ready to admit.”

I rock my hips forward, establishing a rhythm that forces her to adapt or choke.

The pleasure builds at the base of my spine as I watch her swallow my cock. Her reluctance transforms into acceptance that makes my blood roar in my veins. I quicken my pace, my grip tightening in her hair as I chase the crescendo building within me.

“That’s it,” I growl, feeling her throat constrict around me. “Take what I give you.”

Her eyes water as she struggles to accommodate me, but she no longer fights. That knowledge—that I’ve broken through another layer of her resistance—pushes me closer to the edge.

“You’re going to swallow every drop,” I command, my voice rough with need. “Every. Fucking. Drop.”

The sight of her, naked, kneeling, taking me—combined with the wet heat of her mouth sends me over the edge. I hold her head firmly in place as I come, ensuring she has no choice but to swallow. The wave crashes through me, white-hot, as I empty myself down her throat.

“Good girl,” I pant as the aftershocks ripple through me. “Such a good girl for me.”

I release my grip on her hair, allowing her to pull back and gasp for air. Tears stream down her flushed cheeks, her lips swollen and red. She’s never looked more beautiful.

I tuck myself away, crouching to her level, cupping her face. Her body trembles beneath my touch—exhaustion, fear, and confusion all warring within her.

“You think we’re done?” I ask, my thumb wiping a tear from her cheek. “This was just the warm-up, angel.”

I stand and pull her to her feet, her naked body unsteady against mine.

“I’ve designed twelve levels for us, Kira. Twelve ways to break you down and build you into what you’re meant to be.”

I press my lips to her ear, feeling her shudder.

“By the time we reach the final level, you’ll beg to be mine.”

I pull the syringe from my pocket, uncapping it with practiced ease. She’s still breathing hard, tears and defiance mingling on her beautiful face. So strong, my Kira. So perfect. But now she needs rest. We both do.

“Shh, angel. Time for a little break.”

Before she can process what’s happening, I drive the needle into her thigh, depressing the plunger smoothly. Her eyes widen in shock, then slowly glaze over as the sedative floods her system. The fight drains from her body like water from a bathtub, and I catch her before she crumples to the concrete.

“There we go. Let me take care of you.”

Her weight in my arms feels right. I cradle her against my chest, one arm supporting her shoulders, the other beneath her knees. Her head lolls against my shoulder, breath warm against my neck. Mine. Finally fucking mine.

The maze that seemed necessary earlier now feels like an obstacle keeping me from safely tucking her away. I take the staff corridor back to her room—my specially designed mirror of her apartment bedroom.

“You did well today,” I murmur as I carry her, even though she can’t hear me. “Fighting back, showing that spirit. But we both know where this ends.”

Her naked body feels small in my arms. Fragile. Something precious I need to protect from the world—and from herself. The drugs will keep her under for at least four hours.

“I’ve mapped it all out. Every step. Every tear.”

I lay her gently on the bed, arranging her limbs in a comfortable position before securing the restraints. Can’t have her waking up and hurting herself. The soft cuffs encircle her wrists, tethering her to the bed.

“By the time we finish our games, you’ll understand. You’ll see that I’m the only one who truly knows you. The only one who can give you what you need.”

I brush hair from her forehead, marveling at how peaceful she looks. How right.

“You’re already mine. Your body knows it. Your mind will catch up.”