Page 37

The barrel breaches me, and I cry out—a sound somewhere between pain and pleasure. It’s not as thick as the plug was, but the psychological impact of what’s happening hits me hard.

“That’s it, Mischief. Take it all,” he continues, his voice dripping with dark possessiveness. “No one else would ever guess what a depraved little whore you really are. But I know. I’ve always known what you needed.”

As he works the barrel deeper, his other hand brings the vibrator back to my clit. The dual sensation—the cold, forbidden intrusion behind and the intense vibration against my most sensitive spot—makes my entire body jerk.

“Oh god, Ryker!” I gasp, my fingers clawing at the tree bark.

“That’s right, say my name. Tell the whole fucking jungle who’s doing this to you,” he demands, pushing the gun deeper while increasing the vibrator’s intensity. “Tell me how much you love being my personal plaything.”

The vibrations against my clit intensify as he twists the barrel inside me, finding angles that make stars explode behind my eyelids.

“I love it,” I sob, the pleasure almost unbearable. “I love being yours. Please don’t stop.”

“I own every inch of you.” Ryker’s mouth is suddenly close to my ear. “Every. Fucking. Inch.” He pulls the vibe away, making me whine at the loss.

The unmistakable sensation of Ryker’s cock, hot and hard against my pussy makes me shudder, the metal of his piercing creating a distinct pressure against my sensitive flesh.

“Oh god,” I gasp, my body instinctively trying to push back against him.

Ryker’s hand tightens in my hair, pulling my head back sharply. “Patience, Mischief. You’ll get what I give you when I decide to give it.”

He begins to move his hips in a maddening rhythm, sliding the head of his cock between my folds without entering me. The metal of his piercing catches slightly on my entrance with each pass. Forward and back, the smooth head parting my wetness, teasing at penetration before retreating.

“Please,” I whimper, fingers digging into the tree bark.

“Please what?” His voice carries that smug tone I’ve come to both hate and crave.

The piercing drags across my clit as he adjusts his angle, making me cry out. My entire body is a live wire, every nerve ending screaming for release. He continues the torturous movement—forward until I think he’ll finally enter me, then back again, denying me what I desperately need.

“You’re dripping for me,” he observes, the head of his cock collecting my wetness. “So eager to be filled.”

The metal ring of his piercing creates an exquisite friction against my entrance. Each time it catches slightly, my body clenches in anticipation, only to be left wanting as he pulls back again.

“I can feel you trying to pull me in,” he chuckles darkly. “Your greedy little pussy practically begging for my cock.”

His hips continue their hypnotic movement, the piercing gliding through my folds with each pass. The dual sensation of smooth skin and hard metal drives me wild. My thighs quiver with the effort of staying still, of not forcing myself back onto him.

“Is this what you wanted when you were running through the jungle?” he asks, punctuating his question with a firmer press forward. “Were you hoping I’d catch you? That I’d use you like this?”

I moan and arch my back, the rough bark of the banyan root pressing into my palms. “Yes, Ryker. God, yes.”

“That’s what I thought,” he growls, his voice distorted through the Ghost mask. “You’ve been thinking about this since we started, right?”

The gun remains deep inside me, a forbidden intrusion that makes my entire body pulse with shameful pleasure. He stops thrusting it, leaving it lodged firmly in place while his other hand grips my hip with bruising force.

“Please,” I whimper.

I feel the blunt head of his cock press against my entrance, parting my folds that are slick with arousal. The metal of his Prince Albert piercing catches slightly, creating a delicious friction that makes me gasp.

“Fuck,” I breathe as he starts to push inside me. The stretch is exquisite—my body accommodating his thickness while still adjusting to the gun in my ass. The dual sensation of being filled in both holes makes me dizzy with pleasure.

“That’s it,” Ryker hisses, sinking deeper into me with each thrust. “Take all of me like the good little slut you are.”

I’m overwhelmed by the fullness, by the knowledge that he’s claiming me so completely in this wild setting. The jungle air feels thick in my lungs as I struggle to breathe through the intense pleasure. Each time he pushes forward, the gun shifts slightly inside me, creating a pressure that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.

“Oh God,” I cry out as he seats himself fully inside me. I can feel the metal of his piercing pressing against a spot deep inside that makes my entire body shake. “Ryker, it’s too much.”

But it isn’t too much—it’s exactly what I need. The taboo nature of what we’re doing, being filled by both him and the gun in the middle of this wild jungle, pushes me to a new level of arousal I didn’t know was possible.

“You can take it,” he says, voice thick with desire. “You can take everything I give you.”

Ryker’s rhythm becomes relentless, each thrust driving deeper than the last. The vibrator against my clit buzzes with merciless intensity. At the same time, his cock fills me completely, the metal piercing creating friction against spots inside me. The fullness in my ass from the prop gun shifts with each of his movements.

“I’m so close,” I gasp, my voice breaking as the pressure builds. Every muscle in my body tightens, preparing for release.

“That’s it, Mischief,” he growls behind the mask, his voice strained with his own approaching climax. “Come for me. Come around my cock while I fill both your holes.”

The vibrator increases in intensity against my swollen clit, and I cry out, teetering on the edge. His thrusts become harder, more desperate, the piercing dragging across my g-spot with each withdrawal.

Just as the first waves of orgasm begin to crash through me, Ryker leans close to my ear, his breath hot against my skin even through the mask.

“It’s real, Kira,” he admits. “The gun. It’s real. Safety’s on, but one wrong move...”

My mind explodes with the revelation, terror, and forbidden excitement colliding in my brain. The knowledge that a real weapon is inside me—that Ryker has placed something so dangerous in such an intimate place—sends me careening over the edge. My orgasm hits with violent intensity, my inner walls clamping down on his cock as my entire body trembles.

“Oh god, Ryker!” I scream, not caring if anyone could hear us in this vast jungle. My climax rips through me with devastating force, each pulse more powerful than the last. The danger, the taboo, the complete surrender—it all converges into the most intense pleasure I’ve ever experienced.

I collapse against the tree root, my body still trembling from the aftershocks of my orgasm. As the waves of pleasure gradually subside, Ryker carefully removes the gun. This movement sends one final shudder through my oversensitized body. With equal gentleness, he pulls his cock out of me, and I feel suddenly empty, vulnerable in the aftermath of what we’ve just done.

“Shh,” he purrs, his arms encircling me as I whimper from the loss. “I’ve got you.”

Without the Ghost mask obscuring his face, I can see the raw emotion in his eyes—that rare vulnerability he shows only to me. He lifts me effortlessly into his arms, cradling me against his chest like I’m something precious. My head falls naturally into the crook of his neck, and I breathe in his scent—sweat, arousal, and that distinctive cologne he wears.

“Where are we going?” I murmur, my voice hoarse from screaming.

“You’ll see,” he says, that familiar hint of mystery returning to his tone.

He carries me deeper into the jungle, following a path I hadn’t noticed before. The forest opens into a small clearing, and I gasp at what I see. Nestled between flowering bushes and sheltered by a natural canopy of vines, Ryker has created a sanctuary. Dozens of candles flicker in the approaching dusk, casting golden light across a plush blanket spread on the ground. Beside it sits a wicker basket, an ice bucket with champagne, and scattered rose petals.

“What is this?” I ask as he gently lowers me onto the blanket.

Ryker’s eyes soften as he kneels beside me, reaching for the champagne. “Happy anniversary, Mischief.”

Anniversary. The word hits me with unexpected force. It has been one year since he took me from that convention. One year since my old life ended and this strange new existence began.

“You remembered,” I say, my voice catching.

“Of course I did.” He pops the cork and pours two glasses. “One year since I saved you from a life too small for you.”

I accept the flute he offers, our fingers brushing in the exchange. The cool glass against my heated skin grounds me in this moment. One year. Three hundred sixty-five days of being Ryker’s obsession, lover, everything.

“Most people celebrate meeting their partner for the first time,” I say, sipping the bubbling champagne. “Not kidnapping them.”

Ryker’s laugh is dark and genuine. “We’re not most people, Kira.”

That’s certainly true. Nothing about us has ever been normal. From the first moment he tracked me through that convention hall to now—naked in a jungle clearing after he just fucked me with a gun inside me. Normal people don’t do these things. Normal people don’t feel what I feel.

“No, we’re not,” I agree, leaning into his touch as he follows the curve of my shoulder. “Normal people would call this Stockholm Syndrome.”

“And what do you call it?” he asks.

I look at the effort he’s made—the candles, the champagne, the flowers—all to commemorate the day he stole me away. It became one of the most traumatic days of my life. It eventually led to Ryker finding his humanity and to us falling in love.

I stare into my champagne glass as the bubbles rise and burst. How do I define what we’ve become? What started as a nightmare has transformed into something I never imagined.

“I call it ours,” I finally say, meeting his gaze. “Just ours.”

Ryker’s eyes soften in that way that still surprises me—a tenderness that exists alongside all his darkness. He reaches out, tracing his thumb along my jawline.

“A year ago, I thought I knew exactly what I wanted,” he says. “I had plans, levels, a whole system designed to break and remake you.”

“And instead?” I prompt, leaning into his touch.

“Instead, you broke me.” His voice catches, vulnerability flashing across his face. “You weren’t supposed to be real, Kira. You were supposed to be this fantasy I could mold and control completely.”

I take his hand in mine, studying the intricate lines of his tattoos and the strength of his fingers, which have hurt and healed me.

“I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with my kidnapper,” I breathe. “But here we are.”

The jungle breathes around us, alive with night sounds and the flickering dance of candlelight. We’re both naked in this clearing—physically and emotionally, completely exposed to each other.

“Do you regret any of it?” I ask, suddenly needing to know.

Ryker considers this, his expression thoughtful. “I regret hurting you. I regret the fear I caused. But I don’t regret finding you. I don’t regret us.”

I nod, understanding exactly what he means. “We’re broken people who somehow fit together,” I say, setting down my glass and moving into his arms. “You showed me parts of myself I never knew existed. I showed you that possession isn’t the same as love.”

He pulls me against his chest. “You saved me, Mischief.”

The nickname makes me smile against his skin. “And you freed me, in your own twisted way.”

We sit together in the candlelight, two damaged souls who found healing in the most unexpected place—in each other. It’s not perfect. It’s not normal. But it’s ours, and somehow, that’s enough.

* * *

Thank you for reading Game Over ! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.