Page 50 of Killer Confections

My face heats at the thought of that nose brushing my clit. I shake the image away, attempting to focus on the task at hand.

I have a suspicion, but not enough to say for sure.

My friend, Atlas, was violent, but he wasn’t like this. He wasn’t obsessive—because that’s what this is—pure obsession. This man is consumed by my every move, even watching me when I’m alone.

But the more I look at him, the more my stalker looks exactly like Atlas. An older, more well-defined jaw with slight stubble poking out of the edge of the mask, tattooed, and a look that could kill, version of my friend.

I shift in my seat, my hand reaching for the balaclava. He snatches my wrist quickly, never taking his eyes off the road.

“You’re up to ten,” he says as he places my hand on my knee.

My head swivels around to him, my heart sinking. “Ten? Ten what?”

The movement is subtle, but I catch the quirking of his lips under the mask. “How’s your ass?”

I gasp at the audacity. “Why are you doing this? What do you gain?”

He stays quiet, pulling the car onto the curb outside of my apartment. He parks it, cutting the engine before throwing his door open and slamming it behind him. He stalks around the hood before opening my door and leaning across me to unbuckle the seatbelt.

A hand grips my bicep, forcing me out of the car beforepushing me forward on the sidewalk.

“Move your ass, beautiful.” He commands before grabbing a box off the backseat and slamming my door.

I give the box a weary glance, but my stalker raises his brows. “What did I just fucking say? Twelve, now.”

I jolt, turning on my heels as my feet move subserviently along the path to my building. I can feel his presence close to me, heat seeping into my back from his proximity. The anticipation of the unknown is killing me.

I’m shaking from fear and something else I refuse to acknowledge.

I’m not turned on.

I’m not.

We’re silent as we take the elevator up to my floor. My eyes stray to him, but I look away when I find haunting blue orbs watching me, hunger and dark intent swirling in them.

When the doors open, I nearly stumble out. Hands catch me before I’m dragged to my apartment. I look around, checking to see if any of my neighbors are out, but the halls are just as empty as they always are.

He confirms my suspicions when he punches in my security code and it opens with a positive chirp. He places his free hand on the small of my back, urging me forward and into the darkness of my home.

My mind buzzes, heart thumping painfully, as I swallow and step into the living room.

It takes all of two seconds before something lowers over my face. I’m startled as a ball is forced into my mouth. Muffled sounds come from me as my head is tugged back and lips ghost my ear.

I get a look at myself in the mirror by my bookcase, and my eyes widen.

A pastel pink ball gag is lodged between my teeth and my stalker grips the straps tightly, using it to control me.

“Let’s make a fucking movie, baby,” he growls.

Chapter Eighteen

Atlas

I take another drag of my cigarette, letting the smoke fill my lungs as I stare at the controls on the remote in my hand.

I’m seated across the room from Loxley, relaxing back in the recliner I dragged in from the living room.

My eyes stray to the beautiful sight on the bed, and my cock pulses in response. Her hands are bound behind her back and her ankles are tied to the crook of her thighs, putting her in an overly open position. Her legs are spread wide, opening that pretty pink pussy up to me as it gushes all over the black wand vibrator strapped to her inner thigh. On both of her ass cheeks, two perfect handprint bruises are turning a fresh purple. The outline of my fingers and palms looks amazing against her skin. The black heels still strapped to her ankles contrast beautifully with it all.