Page 31

M y boots creak against the rotting wooden floorboards as I walk through the main room into what used to be a bedroom. The door locks behind us with a heavy click, sealing us in. The air is thick with dust and the faint, metallic scent of rust.

Her breath comes in quick, panicked little hitches as I haul her over my shoulder, her naked skin still slick from the shower, the heat of her body seeping through my drenched clothes. God, she’s light—like a doll made just for me to play with.

She squirms, putting up a fight, but it’s useless. Adorable, really. Indeed like a little rabbit caught in a snare, kicking and thrashing, not yet realizing there’s no way out.

I give her juicy, round ass a sharp smack—the sound cracks through the room as the sting lingers on my palm, sweet and satisfying. She yelps and the vibration of it travels straight to my cock.

The room—this dungeon—is a shrine to my obsession, meticulously curated just for her.

The chains sway slightly from the cracked ceiling, moss creeps along the cracked plaster.

My collection displayed with care—belts, floggers, Shibari ropes—all hung neatly on the chipped-paint walls.

The long dining table by the far wall is lined with toys laid out in perfect order: polished metal, sleek leather, things that’ll make her scream in ways she never has before.

And then there’s the centerpiece—the X-cross I built myself, rough wood planks nailed together, sturdy enough to hold her while she learns.

I set her against it, her back pressing into the unforgiving wood. Her wrists are delicate in my grip, her pulse fluttering like a trapped bird as I fasten the cuffs, pinning her arms apart above her head. The ankle restraints follow, spreading her wide, leaving her open, exposed .

Fuck.

She’s gorgeous . Her skin is still damp from the shower, glistening under the golden light of the setting sun that bleeds through the old, torn curtains.

Water droplets cling to her collarbone, trailing down between her breasts.

Her chest rises and falls too fast, her pink nipples pebbled from fear or cold—or maybe, just maybe, from want.

I hum, running my fingers down her sternum, watching goosebumps rise in their wake. “Look at you,” I rasp. “All mine.”

She sucks in a sharp, hysterical breath, her fingers twitching against the leather straps at her wrists. Then, she tries to move. Her arms won’t lower. Her legs won’t close.

Realization dawns.

And she screams.

God, I love that sound. I feel it crack apart inside me, splintering through my veins, making my cock throb so hard it hurts.

She thrashes, yanking against the bindings, but she’s got no leverage. The X-cross stand keeps her helpless, vulnerable, mine.

Fucking hell.

She looks so goddamn sweet like this—panting, desperate, pure fucking prey. I was right all along. She was made for this.

Her wide, terror-glazed eyes snap to me, her throat bobs as she swallows hard, but before she says anything, I already step to the table.

I get rid of my soaked hoodie and the t-shirt under, but I keep the balaclava with the sewn-in mask—just because I know how much she loves the mystery.

I pull on my gloves with a satisfying snap, the leather creaking as I flex my fingers.

Then I pick up her choker, running my thumb over the cold metal ring at the front—the choker she loves so much, the one she wore just to tease me with that pretty little throat on display, pretending she wasn’t mine .

“You always did like this one,” I muse, clicking the buckle open. “Knew you were fucking with me.”

She stiffens as I fasten it around her throat, snug but not choking. Yet. The black leather stands out stark against her pale skin—a collar for my pet. She quivers, her pulse fluttering under my thumb.

“You look so pretty scared like this,” I whisper, grazing her cheek with the back of my hand.

She jerks away from my touch, but there’s nowhere to run.

“Let me go!” she snaps, wiggling against the restraints, but it only makes them tighten harder. “Ghost, what the hell is all this?!”

I tilt my head, drinking in the sight of her, my cock aching. “What I always wanted. You, being Daddy’s good little girl.”

Her pupils are blown wide with fear—but also something else. Something I know. Something I recognize.

I inhale slowly, dragging the moment out, reveling in the way she shudders as I seize her chin. She smells like panic and something sweeter—something she won’t admit yet.

“You made me do this,” I murmur, voice low, rough.

She lets out a soft, ragged breath and stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have. Her lips tremble, pouting, and I want to bite them until they bleed.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” I gesture around us, at the room. “I did all of this for you… For us. So we can finally be together.”

“Oh, my God… You’re actually insane,” she mumbles, shaking her head, her breath uneven.

I slam my fist against the wooden beam above her head, making her flinch. I hate her so much I can barely see straight. I need to hurt her, need to make her understand what she does to me.

“You fucking tease,” I growl. “Parading around in those little skirts, giving me those looks, sending me those texts, acting like you don’t see what you’re doing to me.

Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to breathe around you?

How much I hate wanting you? How much I hate you?

” I exhale sharply, trying to rein myself in, but it’s impossible.

She’s too close. She’s always too close.

And yet, never close enough.

I lean in, my bare chest nearly brushing hers. I drag my hands down the length of her arms, watching the way her skin prickles beneath my touch, so warm from the blood pounding hot beneath. She’s terrified.

As she should be.

Because I’m never letting her go.

“You're mine now, Bunny,” I whisper. “No more running. No more teasing. No more pretending you don’t fucking feel this too.”

Her eyes flicker—anger, defiance, fear. It makes me want to break her even more.

“You can struggle all you want. You can scream. No one's coming for you.” My voice drops to something almost gentle, almost loving. “No one will ever take you from me.”

Her breath stutters, tears streaming down her face now.

I drag my fingers down her sides, tracing the soft dips and curves of her perfect figure, feeling her tremble under my touch.

It’s difficult to decide whether I want to worship her or slash her throat—both options are equally tempting.

I want to rip her apart and crawl inside, make a home beneath her skin, wear her like my own flesh.

But I can’t.

Because worst of all is that she made me need her.

So I admire her instead, hungry and obsessive.

The sun is sinking, the room drowning in shadows. Only slivers of dying light cut through the room, painting stripes across her body like she’s already bleeding.

“It’s getting dark in here, no?” I ask without expecting an answer, moving back to the table from where I grab the lighter. “Let’s create some mood.”

The flame flickers to life, and I light a few candles scattered around us. As the wax melts, the scent of vanilla and sandalwood fills the air. The glow licks up the walls, casting long, twisting shadows that dance over her skin.

“There, much better.” I turn back to her. “See, I can be romantic. Isn’t that what you wanted from me?”

Her lips part, trembling, her eyes wide with disbelief. So confused… so fucking cute.

“Now… damn, look at those tits,” I groan, and my hands are on her before she can protest, palms molding to the soft weight of her breasts, squeezing just hard enough to make her gasp. My thumbs rub circles over the stiff peaks, and fuck, she can’t hide the way her breath hitches.

“Baby, you’re driving me crazy,” I murmur, pinching her nipples sharply.

Despite herself, a moan slips out.

I smirk, knowing she can’t see it. But she can feel it—the weight of my obsession sinking into every touch, every breath, every second I refuse to let her go.

“I love seeing you helpless like this, Bunny.”

With a hum, I step back to the table, squeezing lube onto my fingers before grabbing the small butt plug, gleaming in the candlelight.

She watches me warily as I approach, then I press the cold metal to her lips.

“Suck.”

She turns her head away.

I sigh, feigning disappointment. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t be shy now. You know there are five of us here. We need all your pink holes ready to be used.”

“Fuck you,” she grits out.

I laugh, low and dark. “I love that fire in you, it makes it so much more fun.” My thumb strokes her bottom lip.

“But you should start appreciating how good I am to you. Opening you up first is for your own enjoyment, after all. I don’t want to hurt you…

well, not like this anyway. And you’ll see how much you love your ass getting fucked. ”

“You’re sick,” she spits with disgust. I let it slide this time, too entertained to even get mad.

“Hmm, looks like you prefer pain.”

Her breath catches, and she shakes her head wildly.

“Open your pretty little mouth,” I command.

A beat of defiance—then her lips part, just a fraction. Good enough. I slowly slide the plug inside, her tongue darting out instinctively to wet it.

“That’s it. Good girl,” I murmur as my other hand slips between her parted legs. My gloved fingers find her sweet asshole, spreading the lube, teasing the tight ring of muscle.

She tenses, whimpering, and I love the way she struggles.

“Shh. Relax for me, baby.” One finger probes in, slow but relentless.

She moans around the plug, the sound muffled and soft, as my finger pushes in, just the tip.

Her body jolts, and she clenches around the intrusion.

“Mmmm, you’re so fucking tight,” I growl, working my finger deeper.

“I can’t wait to have that tiny hole wrapped around my cock. ”