Page 18

T he house is quiet. The early morning light seeps through the blinds, pale and thin, barely touching the tangled mess of sheets. Nobody’s awake yet. I don’t think anyone got much rest last night. The activity was strong enough to spook everyone.

And, well , Bunny was loud.

I fucking loved it.

She came so many times, and I hope they heard everything. The thought sends a fresh jolt of heat straight to my aching cock.

God, I need to come.

She’s completely naked and perfect, sleeping beside me, her cheek pressed against my chest. Her pink hair spills across my skin, tickling my jaw.

One of her legs is thrown over mine, warm and possessive, her heat seeping into me like a brand.

My hand—almost of its own fucking accord—drifts down, fingers tracing the curve of her plump ass before slipping lower, right between her thighs.

Fuck.

A groan sticks in my throat as I trail up and down her slit. Her pussy is raw and swollen, and yet still, so wet for me.

She makes a soft noise but doesn’t wake. As much as I want to bury my face between her legs again and feast on her until she’s a trembling, breathless mess beneath me, I don’t. She’s exhausted after barely getting any sleep and needs strength for the hike.

She needs to be ready…

So I ease out from under her, careful not to jostle her too much. She murmurs something unintelligible, nuzzling into the pillow where I’d been just seconds before.

I grab my mask on instinct—just in case I run into anyone else in the hallway—before locking the bathroom door behind me and stepping under the shower.

I set the water hot, steam rises fast, fogging up the space, but it does nothing to dull the ache in my balls. I’m so fucking hard it’s painful.

My hand wraps around my shaft, feeling the engorged veins pulsing with need. I stroke slowly as last night plays behind my eyelids—her sexy sounds, the way she clenched around my fingers, the delicious taste of her, that heady, addictive sweetness still lingering on my tongue.

Holy shit, she was so willing, finally letting her desire take over.

But it’s not the first time I’ve had her.

My mind drifts...

To that rage, thick and blinding, boiling under my skin as I stood on the stairs outside her brownstone, snow melting into my hoodie.

Nate had stepped out, arms crossed like some kind of fucking bodyguard from the discount store, his breath fogging in the cold as he told me she didn’t want to see me.

Like I gave a single fuck about what she wanted.

I wanted her. That was the only thing that ever mattered.

She didn’t even have the fucking guts to face me and say it herself. She sent in her boy toy without benefits and let him speak for her. Like I was some casual fan of hers that she could have just erased from her life.

Like I was nothing .

What a fucking bitch.

And so would be my payback.

I didn’t lunge. Didn’t snap his neck right there on her front steps. No—I backed off.

Well, at least I made it seem so.

I checked into a shitty hotel in a shitty neighborhood. No cameras in the lobby. No questions at the desk. Just a key and a room infested with roaches, and a mattress that stank like other people’s failure.

And then I went shopping. I moved around the boroughs. Changed stores. Paid cash for everything. Kept my head down.

Each item went into a duffel bag. A couple of knives. Duct tape. Binoculars. Zip ties. Rope. And chloroform, because I wasn’t taking any chances.

I also got a new balaclava since my sewn-in mask was too recognizable. And leather gloves—black, fitted, the kind you wear for grip and silence. Great for New York’s winter, plus, I wasn’t leaving fingerprints.

Wasn’t leaving anything at all.

The street was quiet when I returned to her brownstone that night, the nearest streetlamp was a few feet away. The cold deepened, and flurries came down soft, almost lazy, as I stood across and watched the lights in her windows.

She lived alone and had the entire parlor floor unit. The ground level below hers was currently vacant, and the upstairs neighbors seemed to be out for the night. I knew the exact layout of her apartment before I ever stepped inside.

“House tour!” She’d giggled to the camera months ago after picking up the keys, twirling in her new living room like she was inviting the whole world in. “ Isn’t it just the coziest?”

Oh, it’s cozy, alright.

No doorman. No security. Not even a guard dog. Nothing that could protect her from me now.

Nate was long gone, and she was in her PJs, watching something on TV, and drinking alone. She was crying, but I really couldn’t care less.

I waited patiently, spying on her through binoculars.

A wine bottle later, she curled up on the couch, pulled a pastel pink throw blanket over herself, and went still. The TV kept playing.

I waited longer.

Half an hour passed, and nothing changed. No phone. No bathroom trip. Just the soft blue light of the screen over her sleeping figure.

That was when I moved. I crossed the street. Quiet, steady. No rush.

Snow dusted the steps, the railings, the dead plants in their cracked ceramic pots. I lifted the third one on the left—just as she’d revealed in that Q&A, laughing about her “emergency key” like a fucking idiot.

She really made it too damn easy.

I wouldn’t call her dumb—she was a smart girl who often played down her intelligence in front of the cameras. But fucking hell, was she na?ve. Was she really that ignorant of the dangers lurking for pretty little faces like hers once they stepped away from the screen?

Any one of her crazy fans could have stalked her in real life.

I just happened to be much worse than them all.

And I’d make sure no one could get to her first.

She was mine —whether she wanted to or not.

The lock turned with a soft click, quieter than a whisper.

Inside, the air was warm, thick with the scent of wine and her sugared vanilla lotion. The TV played some stupid rom-com, drowning out her steady breathing.

I entered the living space. My boot creaked, just once, on the hardwood.

She didn’t move.

Two empty wine bottles sat on the coffee table. A third, just cracked open, tipped against the armrest. Nate wasn’t much of a drinker, so she literally had drowned her sorrows.

I stepped closer. And there, on the end table, a little orange bottle caught my eye—cap off, a few pills scattered beside it like candy.

I picked it up. Alprazolam.

Anxiety meds.

Wow, so there is something I didn’t know about you, little bunny, I thought to myself.

For a heartbeat, I wondered why, when… but did it really matter now?

She mixed prescription drugs with alcohol.

I crouched beside her, close enough to feel the heat of her skin. I brushed a messy strand of hair from her face. Her luscious lips parted slightly, a soft exhale escaping.

I shook her—nothing.

I called her name—nothing still.

She wouldn’t wake up. Not for a long time. And I didn’t even have to bind her to have my way with her.

This was too good. I just had to laugh.

She was so peaceful in her deep sleep, but she couldn’t be farther away from safety. The sight of her like that—unguarded, soft, vulnerable—made me twitch with the need to claim her.

Then I straightened, pulling the blanket away.

She wore a light pink cami top, the fabric so thin it was nearly sheer, clinging to her like a second skin.

The darker outlines of her aureolas teased beneath, the stiff little points of her nipples pressing against the material. Begging for attention. My attention.

But she’d denied me that.

You should have said yes.

Her pajama pants were ridiculously infantile—long, plush, printed with grinning bunny faces—the waistband with a cute bow was loose, just asking to be tugged down. Mocking me.

I stared, shameless, drinking in the sight of her like a man starved, taking mental pictures of every detail.

Then, with a slow, deliberate touch, I hooked a gloved finger under the strap of her top and pulled it down, baring one perfect, soft breast. The other followed, her tits spilling free, pale and round, nipples puckered tight. My breath hitched.

Fuck. Even now, after everything, she still had this power over me. I could have bitten them. Sucked them raw. Hell knows how badly I wanted to.

But she didn’t deserve my mouth.

Her bottoms came next—I yanked them down her thighs in one sharp motion, exposing smooth, waxed skin. No redness, no irritation—freshly done. She’d prepped herself. For me.

Only to leave both of us disappointed.

But would you look at that—that pretty little pink pussy, bare and glistening, was mine anyway.

My gloved hand burned to touch her. Before I could stop myself, I dragged a leather-clad finger down her slit, parting her lips. She was already wet.

Poison.

That cunt was fucking poison, and I wanted to drown in it. Choke on it. Let it ruin me.

But she didn’t get to have me. Not again.

The knife slid free from its sheath with a whisper of steel.

The blade caught the light, cold and gleaming as I traced it over her chest, following the swell of her breasts, the dip of her collarbone.

I imagined slicing her open, watching her skin split like ripe fruit, her blood spilling in thick, crimson ribbons over her flesh.

I wanted to hurt her.

Torture her.

And I would get off on the pain I inflicted upon her.

But then she sighed, and her hips rolled slightly, thighs pressing together before relaxing again.

“Daddy…” The word slithered out of her, breathy, dream-drunk.

My grip tightened on the knife.

She was dreaming. Dreaming of me.

A dark, possessive thrill shot through me—a different kind. Perhaps she wasn’t finished with me yet.

I shook my head, chasing away any confusion.

And I dipped the blade lower, trailing it down her stomach—it caught only on her belly button ring with a metallic sound.

I moved my hand between her thighs, pressing the flat side of the blade against her pussy, the metal kissing her heat.

Her legs parted, giving me a better access, as her body responded even in sleep.

I flipped the knife around, gripping the blade and letting the sharp edge bite into the leather of my glove. Then I dragged the polished wooden handle—smooth, and heavy—up and down her slit, collecting her arousal before pressing against her entrance.

She shifted, her thighs trembling, her breath coming faster. Fuck, she was into it.

I pushed inside.

Inch by inch, the handle disappeared into her tight, wet pussy hole, her body accepting it like it was made for her. Her back arched slightly, a whimper catching in her throat. As if she wanted it.

My other hand found her throat, fingers curling just enough to feel her pulse fluttering beneath my grip. The leather looked so good around her creamy neck. Her eyelids fluttered just slightly, adding more thrill to this sick little game.

And then I fucked her with the knife.

Slow at first, savoring the way her body resisted, then yielded. Then harder, rougher, until her breath came in sharp little gasps, until her fingers twisted in the cushions, and her hips lifted off the couch, chasing the sensation.

“Mmm, Ghost… please…” Her voice was slurred with sleep, but I heard it. Heard my name spill from her lips like a prayer.

I leaned in, my lips brushing her ear. “You should have let me in, my little Valentine.”

Then I twisted the handle inside her, and her body clenched around it, her whimper dissolving into something raw, something broken.

I could see how her walls kept contracting around the handle as she greedily tried to milk it.

I knew she was lost in a fantasy of my cock buried deep inside her, breeding her tight little pussy.

When she finally stopped pulsing around it, I pulled the knife free and brought it to my lips. I couldn’t help myself. I licked the handle clean, and the taste of her flooded my mouth as I lapped at it, groaning.

Still obsessed.

Still a fucking slave to her.

I despised her with my whole being, but my cock throbbed in my pants to the point of insanity.

I pressed the blade to her throat and yanked at the zipper of my jeans, my hard-on springing free—heavy and aching.

The rush of control burned through me as I stroked slowly, looming over her limp body.

Her tits rose and fell with each breath, her nipples still stiff from coming.

Fuck, she looked so fine like this—unaware, vulnerable, mine .

Her pussy so tiny underneath my cock. Just one thrust and I would know what heaven felt like.

But she didn’t earn that. I wouldn’t give her this pleasure, not now, even if it meant more misery for me.

I dragged the tip of my cock up her stomach, over her ribs, across her perky tits, watching the way her skin pebbled under the wet trail of precum I left behind.

She didn’t wake, of course. Just a little sleepy sigh, a shift of her head.

My pulse hammered, my grip tightening as I teased higher, tracing her collarbone, the hollow of her throat. Then, her mouth.

Soft. Warm. Slightly open.

Too tempting.

I pressed the head of my cock against her lips, smearing my precum across them.

Fuck, that got me even harder.

I nudged until her mouth opened wider, and I could feel her tongue pressed against my cockhead in some unconscious reflex. My hips jerked.

“Yeah, take it,” I rasped, pushing in, just enough to feel her breath hitch.

Her lips were damp, slack, and pliant. Shit.

I thrust shallowly, my free hand gripping her hair, holding her still as my hips jerked.

The heat, the wetness enveloping me—God, it was better than I imagined.

She was a perfect little cocksucker like I knew she would.

With my balls drawing up, I thrust harder, slipping farther down her mouth. She stirred, a muffled sound catching, but it was too late.

“Gonna fill that pretty mouth,” I growled, fingers tangling in her hair, holding her still.

A couple more pumps before I groaned loudly and came hard, spilling into her, watching her throat work around me as she swallowed in her sleep on instinct.

Good girl.

I didn’t pull out until I was spent and a thin trail of cum dripped from her lips onto the couch.

She’d never even know what happened. But she’s tasted it in the morning. And that? That was the part that excited me the most…

I pump inside my fist the final time remembering that thrill of using her mouth and thick ropes of my cum splash against the shower tiles and floor.

Pathetic.

But it’s okay, because I know this is the last time I’m doing this shit. After today, Bunny will be mine.

Forever.