Page 22 of My Masked Stalker (Beautiful Stalkers #1)

EMILY

I flinch when Killian’s friend, Damien, probes the area around my thighs where my kidnapper’s fingers dug in hard enough to leave a chain of bruises. I grip Killian’s sheets in my fist.

“I’m sorry, Emily,” the medic says quietly. “But I have to ask… do you need an internal exam?”

I blink up into his soft-blue eyes until the meaning of his words hits me.

“N—no,” I stutter. “He didn’t… Only on the outside,” I finish lamely.

“There’s nothing ‘only’ about sexual assault, Emily,” Damien says icily. I see something moving behind his eyes, some kind of shadow that scares me, but it’s gone before I can put my finger on it.

When he continues, his words are softer. “If you need counseling, I know a great doctor. She mostly works with battered women in abusive relationships, but I’m sure she’d take you in.”

I try to smile at the handsome blond with the intimidating height and muscles, who’s been nothing but caring toward me. “I’d like that,” I whisper, then take his hand into mine, despite the latex glove covering it. “Thank you.” My words are somewhat guttural as I try to fight another bout of tears.

“Are you stealing my girl, Hale?”

I turn my head to Killian, who’s leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom, his arms crossed. Despite the harsh words, his expression is carefully neutral, like he’s trying not to spook me. Maybe he knows it’s hard enough looking at the room where I struggled against my kidnappers.

Damien snorts, patting my hand before extricating himself and taking his gloves off with a snap.

“No offense, Emily, but fuck it if I’ll put myself in your shoes, Kill.” He picks up his supplies and returns them to his bag. “Women are a weakness. Too fragile.”

I frown at his contradicting behavior. Wasn’t he just advocating counseling for abused women? Now he’s acting like a typical macho man.

Maybe Killian senses something off in his words as well, because he scoffs and shakes his head.

“Thanks, D,” he murmurs as the EMT passes him. “Don’t let the door hit you on your way out,” he adds, making me laugh despite still feeling on edge.

Killian pushes off the doorframe and approaches the bed, observing me carefully.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, making my eyes bug out.

“Since when do you ask for permission?” I ask on a huff.

He nods at the bruises on my wrists and thighs, his eyes growing molten with anger.

“Since that dead motherfucker took the choice away from you.”

I sigh and drop back onto the bed, then pat the mattress beside me. It dips with Killian’s weight, but he doesn’t reach for me. I miss his possessive touch, his ownership over my body, as much as the notion scares me right now.

“He didn’t rape me,” I say out loud, something I couldn’t say to Damien. It feels both like relief and like admitting I was one hair’s breadth away.

Killian grunts, but doesn’t say anything, allowing me to continue.

“I just keep replaying those men bursting in here, grabbing me, drugging me. Then, when I woke up and he was there, touching me, threatening me.” I take another steadying breath before continuing. “He said he’d kill you and take me, see what made you chase me.”

He growls now, and I can see from the corner of my eyes that he reaches out for me before changing his mind and letting his hand drop back down.

“I just felt like I had no control over anything. Like I’m powerless, a doll,” I finish, turning my head to finally look at him. Sooty eyelashes draw shadows as he looks down, lost in thought. When his eyes return to mine, they’re burning with determination.

“Then let’s get your power back.”

He jumps out of bed and leaves the room.

Where the hell did he go? Is he going to kill more people?

He already shot both of my kidnappers and stabbed the one who touched me.

Maybe he wants to find the man who spoke from the shadows?

I told Killian and his brothers all about what happened, and they kept looking at each other with scowls.

My mouth falls open when he returns holding large black zip ties.

“W—what’s that for?” I ask, unable to take my eyes away from the thin strands of plastic. I know just how impossible it is to get out of them, to break them.

Instead of answering, Killian throws the zip ties onto the bed, then takes his T-shirt and sweatpants off with three efficient moves.

He went commando underneath, his dick soft, but still impressive against his muscled thighs.

I can’t take my eyes off it as he picks up the zip ties and approaches me, handing them off before turning.

His hands cross at the small of his back.

“Zip me up, baby.”

“Why?” I ask, flabbergasted.

“It’s time for you to take control,” he answers simply.

My fingers tremble as I stare at the thick black ties in my hands. They feel heavier than they should, like they’re holding every ounce of fear I’ve carried since last night.

“You want me to…” My voice falters. “Restrain you?”

Killian doesn’t move. His wide back is rigid, muscles flexing beneath his tan skin as though it’s taking everything in him not to turn around. “I want you to see how powerful you really are, Emily. You want me helpless? You want me begging? Do it.”

I swallow hard, my throat tight. He’s insane. This whole thing is insane. But my pulse is racing with something that’s not just fear. Power hums under my skin, addictive and unfamiliar.

Slowly, I rise to my knees on the bed and loop one tie around his wrists, pulling it snug. The sharp zip sound echoes like a gunshot in the quiet room. Killian exhales, low and deliberate, but he doesn’t resist.

Another tie, this one cinched tighter. His veins stand out against the strain, but he only murmurs, “Harder, sweetheart. Don’t go easy on me.”

I yank it until my palms burn, and only then do I realize my breathing has evened out, no longer frantic. He’s letting me cage him. He’s giving me what was stolen.

Killian glances back over his shoulder, eyes molten blue, lips curved in the faintest smile. “There she is. My little Red, in control.”

I don’t feel like a victim anymore. I feel as dangerous as the man before me.

Killian sits on the edge of the bed, wrists bound behind him, chest rising slowly and steadily. He looks like a caged predator, his hungry eyes locked on me.

“Your move, sweetheart,” he rasps. “I’m not touching you. Not unless you beg me to. Tonight, you ride me, you set the pace. You want soft, you’ll get soft. You want filthy, I’ll make you forget your goddamn name.”

The ache in my chest loosens. He means it. I’m the one with the choice this time.

I push down my panties, kick them off, and straddle his lap, the heat of his body searing against my bruised thighs. He hisses through his teeth when my slickness brushes his cock, now thick and heavy against me. I can’t help it—I rub against his hardness until I feel it get soaked from me.

“Look at you,” he growls. “Grinding on me like a good girl. Take it, Emily. Take what’s yours.”

Emboldened, I grab his cock and line myself up against it. My breath shudders as I sink down onto him, inch by inch. He’s big, stretching me, filling me, and for once, he doesn’t force the pace. It’s my choice how much I take, how fast, how hard.

“Fuck,” Killian groans, his head tipping back. “So tight. So fucking perfect. You’re milking me already and I’m not even halfway in.”

I set my palms against his chest and start moving, slow at first, testing how it feels to have him helpless beneath me. The power is intoxicating. Every roll of my hips makes his jaw clench, every squeeze of my muscles pulls a curse from his filthy mouth.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he pants. “Ride me. Break me. Own me. You want slow? You want sweet? I’ll still come so deep in you it’ll leak down your thighs for hours.”

Heat floods through me at his words, but I don’t speed up. I take my time, savoring the way his cock drags against my sensitive inner walls, savoring his helplessness, savoring that for once, I’m the one in control.

I ease down slowly, his thick length stretching me until I’m full, and my breath catches. Killian just sits there, bound, watching me with a reverence that makes my throat ache.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, voice ragged. “Take me at your own pace. You’re so goddamn beautiful like this, filling yourself up with me. My perfect girl.”

A shaky laugh escapes me, half-nervous, half-disbelieving. “You don’t even have your hands free, but you could stop me if you wanted to.”

His smile is crooked, dangerous. “Sweetheart, the only thing I want to do is to see you come apart on my cock. Nothing in this world could make me stop you.”

I start to move, slow and shallow, testing my own body, finding the rhythm that feels right. Each gentle roll of my hips makes his breath stutter, his eyes darken. He doesn’t demand or push, just murmurs praise in that gravelly voice that strokes my heart as much as my body.

“Good girl… fuck, you feel like heaven.” His jaw clenches, but his words stay soft, steady. “I feel every squeeze, every flutter of that perfect pussy. Yeah, baby, you’re in charge now. You own me.”

The knot of fear and powerlessness I’ve carried since the kidnapping loosens with each thrust. His words seep into the cracks, filling me with something warm, something steady. My hands brace against his shoulders as I ride him, chasing my pleasure.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he rasps when I gasp, my body tightening around him. “Don’t hold back. Come for me. Show me how strong you are.”

The way he says it, like me being able to find pleasure now is proof of my strength, breaks something open inside me.

My release builds, then crests in a wave that rolls through me.

Tears spill down my cheeks as I cry out, trembling on his cock.

Killian leans his head forward, catching them with his lips.

“That’s my girl,” he says. “So fucking gorgeous when you fall apart. You’re safe, Emily. Always safe with me. No one will ever take you from me again.”

I lock my lips with his and keep moving, riding him faster, pushing down harder.

“I need you to come inside me,” I say against his mouth, my words breathless. “I want to take that from you.”

Killian groans, his shoulders flexing under my hands as he pulls against the zip ties. “Fuck, baby. You want my cum? You take it.”

My thighs burn from the effort, but I don’t stop. I don’t want to stop until he fills me.

“Ride me, Red,” he rasps, his eyes blazing into mine. “Take every last drop. Milk me dry.”

The filthy words make me squeeze tighter around him, and that’s what breaks him. His head falls back, a guttural sound tearing from his throat as he empties himself deep inside me. Hot pulses fill me, and I keep moving, claiming every drop, just like he said.