Page 12 of My Masked Stalker (Beautiful Stalkers #1)

EMILY

M y heartbeat pounds in my ears as I run through the maze, my breath fogging the air when I turn to look over my shoulder, searching for my stalker. Fallen corn husks crunch under my boots, and I really hope I won’t trip over a stalk again. I should have worn gloves.

I must be going the wrong way. The sounds of the Halloween carnival fade into the distance with every step I take, and now it feels like it’s just us. Just me and my wolf in our own game of cat and mouse.

Every now and then, Killian calls out my name from somewhere close by. It feels like he’s ahead of me one moment, then behind the next, and when I get turned around by the discrepancy, his chuckles echo around me.

“Barbara?” I call out again, though I don’t have much hope that my friend will answer me.

“I think she’s at the exit, sweetheart. Waiting for you.” Killian scoffs. “She’ll be waiting for a while. I say when we’re done.”

I shiver and wrap my cloak around me tighter. As if that’ll keep him from me.

Determined to find the exit and Barbs, I lift my chin and start walking down different paths, hunting for the glow of lights, the sounds of laughter. Every time I think I’ve gotten ahead of the wolf, his skull flashes out of the darkness at the end of a row, and I hurry the other way.

Suddenly, I’m pulled back into the corn rows, an arm over my chest, a knife pressed to my throat. I’m too scared to even scream. Was I not just reaching when I felt oddly safe with him—was I completely delusional? Is he going to kill me after all?

Killian’s mask presses against the side of my face, the wolf’s skull feeling cold and unyielding. I can feel his breath, the hardness of his body pressed against mine from behind, his dick growing larger, pushing into my butt.

“You really thought you could hide from me in a children’s maze, Little Red?” he whispers, then chuckles, squeezing me tighter. “You were never out of my sight.”

Why is it taking so long to get the lights back on, for someone to come and find lost guests? How am I alone with my stalker when there are so many people visiting the Halloween carnival tonight? But, more importantly, do I want someone to intervene? Their death would be on my hands.

“A—are you going to k—kill me?” I ask with a stutter, sweat dripping down the side of my neck despite the chilly fall air.

He clicks his tongue, sounding disappointed. “After everything, Emily, you think I’m going to kill you in the corn stalks?” His voice turns harsh as he continues. “I killed for you. I’d die for you. But I will never fucking harm you, sweetheart.”

With that, he spins me around. This close to his mask, the skull is even more terrifying, the sight of it chilling my bones.

Killian walks, pushing me backward, while I’m still stupefied by his appearance, his presence, my eyes locked on the wolf’s empty sockets.

He doesn’t stop until my back thumps against something hard and immovable.

I look up to see he’s pressing me against the backside of a scarecrow’s cross. We must be in the center of the maze.

My stalker drops to his knees in the dirt, and I’m too frozen to the spot to even consider running.

“What are you doing?” I whisper as he reverently parts my cloak. The skull tilts, taking in my exposed skin from the tops of my boots to the hood fastening at my neck.

“Feasting,” he growls, his voice sounding hollow behind the headpiece, his hands moving from my ankles to the juncture of my thighs. I shiver when I feel his touch on me—he took his gloves off, and the calluses on his hands rasp deliciously against my skin.

He lifts the pleats of my tiny skirt, groaning when my pussy is exposed to the brisk night air. My stalker told me not to wear any panties, and like an idiot, I obeyed. If this were a horror movie, I’d be the first girl to die at the axe murderer’s hands.

Killian tears the mask off his face, and I think I’m going to see him clearly for the first time when I notice he’s wearing black camouflage paint. I realize I’m frowning when his gorgeous, firm lips part into an evil grin. The bastard knows I’m disappointed.

His hands return to my thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh with almost bruising force.

“You’re such a good girl for me, Emily.” When he licks his lips, he smudges some of the black paint, leaving a streak that makes my fingers itch to clean it up. “So eager to obey. Or are you afraid I’ll punish you?”

My bottom lip trembles at his question, my mind refusing to dissect my motivations. Why did I wear this costume he left when he broke into my apartment? Why am I not wearing any underwear underneath the micro skirt?

When I stay quiet for too long, he shocks me with a sharp slap against my bare ass. My squeal rips through the intimate silence in the darkened center of the maze. Blushing furiously, I realize my pussy leaked in response, the night air cooling my now damp flesh.

“Answer me,” Killian commands in a voice that makes it clear he never gets disobeyed.

“B—both,” I gasp, the reply coming from somewhere in my gut instead of a conscious part of my brain.

“Good,” he chuckles. “So good for me. And good girls get rewarded.”

He parts my pussy lips with his thumbs, blowing air onto my exposed clit.

I whimper, squirming against the scarecrow’s crucifix, like a bird caught by a predator.

I’m his sacrifice, his offering. The skull mask may be discarded in the dirt, but the black paint makes him look just as wild, as feral.

He was the hunter prowling through the shadows all night just to sink his teeth into me.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, his breath hot on my skin. “My Red, my delicious feast.”

I gasp when his mouth ghosts over me, not quite touching, just close enough for his breath to brush my most sensitive skin. My hips jerk, chasing more, but his laugh is dark, cruel.

“Greedy already,” Killian drawls, dragging his nose up the inside of my thigh, smearing a line of paint against my pale skin. “You want my mouth on you, don’t you? Say it.”

“I—” My throat closes up, making it impossible to speak.

Another sharp slap, this time to my thigh, and I yelp, jerking against the old wood.

“Say it, sweetheart,” he orders. “Tell me what you need.”

My voice breaks. Or is it my pride? “I want your mouth,” I finally admit.

“That’s better.” He laughs, the wicked wolf. “Good girls get what they beg for.”

He licks me once, a long, slow stroke that makes my toes curl in my boots. But instead of staying where I need him, he veers away, biting down on the soft flesh of my thigh. The sharp sting makes me cry out, and he soothes it with his tongue.

“Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” he mutters against my skin. His teeth scrape, his tongue flicks, but every time I strain for more, he pulls back with that wolfish grin.

“Killian,” I plead, my hands coming forward to pull on the soft dark strands of his hair, pulling him where I need him.

“Shh,” he whispers, those pale eyes boring into me from below. He might be kneeling, but there’s no way I’m in charge here. “You’ll come for me on this cross, my good Little Red. You’ll scream for me, and everyone out there will think it’s just the wind blowing through the corn.”

His mouth finds my clit—at last—and I nearly sob from the shock of contact. The hot swirl of his tongue and the wet suction have me thrashing against the scarecrow’s post, desperate for more. Heat gathers low in my belly, the pressure building so fast it’s dizzying.

But just as I’m about to tumble over that edge, he pulls back. His teeth graze against me, and he bites my thigh again, grinning against my skin while I cry out in frustration.

“Killian!” I whimper, my hips bucking in the empty air. “Please—don’t stop!”

“Not yet, sweetheart.” His voice is silky, dark, and teasing. “You’ll come when I say you can. Not a second before.”

He drags his tongue over my slit, slow and deliberate, just enough to make me shiver, then pulls away again. My fists ball at my sides, nails digging into my palms as tears of frustration burn my eyes.

“Please,” I gasp, my voice breaking. “I need it… Oh god, I need you.”

“You sound so sweet begging in the dirt,” he growls, his breath hot against my pussy. “My perfect little Red, dripping for her wolf.”

The third time he denies me, I scream. The sound rips through the maze, carried away on the wind.

“Louder,” Killian demands, pressing two fingers into my soaked heat while his mouth clamps down on my clit again, sucking hard. “Let everyone hear how hard I make you come.”

I shatter, my orgasm tearing through me like a wildfire. My legs spasm, and my back arches against the scarecrow’s rough cross. The climax is brutal, wringing every drop of pleasure out of me until I’m shaking, wrecked, barely able to stay upright, held up by his strong hands.

Killian doesn’t stop until I’m sobbing with oversensitivity, my body jerking from every flick of his tongue. Only then does he lift his head, lips glistening, chin smeared with my wetness. His pale eyes blaze among the streaks of black paint, feral and triumphant.

“That’s my girl,” he rasps, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, taking away some of the paint. “My sweet Little Red, coming apart on a fucking scarecrow like she was made for the dark.”

My world tilts when he picks me up in a bridal carry, and he starts walking while my eyes take in the sharp line of his jaw, the strong nose, the sexy arch of his upper lip. Every step jostles me against the hard planes of his body, and I clutch at his shoulders instinctively, my heart galloping.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You did so well for me. Screaming, begging, soaking my mouth like the sweetest fucking wine.” His grip tightens, possessive. “But that was just foreplay.”

The maze rustles around us, stalks brushing against my cloak as he continues walking through the rows, not appearing lost at all despite the dead string lights above us.

“You’re mine now, Emily,” he growls low enough to rattle through my bones. “But a wolf doesn’t just take his prize. He hunts her. Breaks her. Makes her run until there’s nothing left but surrender.”

I shiver from his words and a rising cold wind. That’s when I realize we’re at the edge of the maze, shadowy woods yawning before us, scarier than any carnival decorations.

Killian lowers his mouth to my ear, his voice velvety. “So here’s what happens next, Little Red. You’re going to run into the woods, the wolf’s domain. I’ll be chasing you. When I catch you—and I will catch you—I’m going to fuck you against the trees until you can’t remember your own name.”

He shifts me easily in his arms, holding me tighter for one last moment while I gape at him. “Run for me, Emily. Make it worth my while.”