Page 21

Fight or flight: The feeling to flee or attack an oncoming threat.

W hich one can save me?

I took off at a dead run, feeling the weight of my stupid fucking actions laying heavy on my shoulders.

The devil himself was fucking hunting me. His panting growls chased me as soon as he entered the quiet car garage. Standing still by the stairwell, I slapped my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.

Recording him? No, just one picture was my stupid thought for the day. God, I’m an idiot!

Mentally scolding myself wouldn’t get me out of my current predicament, but running like fucking hell would.

My heart was hammering in my chest as I skidded to a halt, hiding behind a car.

Staring at his reflection in the car’s side mirror adjacent to me, I gaped at his hulking form coming closer.

This wasn’t fair! It was like throwing a Corgi in a ring with an English Mastiff.

Glancing around, I noticed the chain link fence beside me. The whole fucking car garage was surrounded by it. Fuck, the only way out of here was the north entrance of the stupid parking lot. I was a sitting duck.

I swallowed, trying to catch my breath, and bolted in the opposite direction of where he’d just vacated. The professor was leading me up the ramps. I could detour to hide in the elevator, but there was zero-way of getting away from him in a small box.

With my luck, the thing would ding and lead him right to me. I didn’t see anyone else in here. All the vacant cars were cold and turned off like they had been for a while. Some even had dust collecting on them.

Was I going to be left here? Abandoned like those cars to collect dust?

I kept running, my stupid flats clacking on the ground. These stupid shoes were smashing my feet with every step on the hard cement.

I was getting nauseous. This chase was not meant for people who didn’t exercise, and the height of the fucking ramps was acting like a stupid stair climber.

Also, jumping was not a possibility. I would break my neck, probably my whole body, since we were at least six or seven stories high.

Maybe I would make it easy on him and trip, ending his issue right here.

The red letters and numbers blurred as I continued running past them, as we ran higher and higher.

Finally, I couldn’t fucking breathe, and I collapsed onto the hood of a fucking car, the blaring alarm temporarily making me feel deaf. The high-pitched sound echoed around the space like a bomb in the quiet. The only other sound was his boots smashing into the pavement texture.

Knowing I had no more time, I pushed myself off the hood, diving behind a truck.

Cursing, I lost my fucking shoe and pulled my shirt up over my mouth, trying to block the harsh sounds of my pants and exhales.

I waited, staring over at the wailing car.

Maybe someone from the asylum would hear it and rescue me.

Holding onto that newfound hope, I calmed enough to listen for his footsteps. I couldn’t hear anything over the damn alarm anymore, the security lights flashing like a strobe in the darkness.

Finally, the wailing cut off, and a quiet ringing in my ears started.

Fuck…Where was he?

He wouldn’t just give up, right?

Maybe he collapsed? He looked unwell when I saw him enter the parking lot. His black hair was disheveled, and his body movements were jerky. He had left the fucking asylum looking like a patient escapee. Sweating, swearing, and smashing into every wall and person he came across.

Now that I was thinking about it, he was acting truly unhinged. Honestly, he was acting like someone who’d been dealing with something akin to deep pain.

Oh god…had he been crying?

But I couldn’t think about that right now. I settled into the spot where the car had quieted. I wasn’t stupid. He would come back if I didn’t move my ass. I was near the top of the garage, just a single level underneath where the sun was peeking through.

I stared ahead to the black asphalt and watched in horror as a big, black shadow engulfed the little streams of light from the top balcony.

My breath caught in my throat, and my ability to scream froze.

Fuck, where did he go—a tattooed hand wrapped around my neck, and I could hear ragged pants near my ear. The professor’s body pressed into mine, pushing me into the hood of the car. He was coated in sweat, his clothes sticking to my exposed skin in my sundress.

His voice was low, the threat laced with the thrill of winning. He tilted my head sideways, lifting me up to stand.

“Like what you see, Little Voyeur?” he said, leaning in closer to my ear.

I swallowed and struggled, his hand acting like a tight dog collar.

I couldn’t deny my being here or the fact that he caught me. The proof was on my fucking camera.

He dragged his hand away from my throat, sliding it down my chest, slowly pushing over my hardened nipples and the softness of my stomach.

I let out a shaking breath, watching his movements as he got to my hips. He gripped my right side tightly and continued his downward exploration with the other. I tried not to scream. My dress was covered in little specks of blood.

Was it his? Or someone else’s?

His hand stopped where my dress ended. I clenched my thighs together, and he grunted, pushing them apart with his big black boot.

I stayed where he had me, his hand anchoring me between the car and his body with one tight grab of my pussy. His hand heating me as sure as a brand.

Fuck, my knees began to shake, and my heart pumped harder.

My body was betraying me, coating his hand with my wetness, soaking through my dress and my panties. A whimper escaped from my throat, as I watched him blur and suddenly he was behind me. He was pushing his rough palm against my clit, putting pressure right where I needed it.

“Did you really think you could escape me?” He pushed harder, wrenching a gasp from me.

He started moving his hand back and forth, his thick fingers dipping into my slit, the clothing partially blocking him, bunching into the spot and creating additional friction.

“Stop…” I said, but even it sounded like a question to my ears.

To my surprise, he did.

He moved his hand down further and ripped my camera off me with a snap of the camera strap.

This time, I did scream.

He spun me around and pressed me against the car, turning on the device and flipping through the damning evidence while keeping me pinned with his knee.

“Naughty girl, Little Voyeur.” He tsked, moving his knee and bringing that heat back to my lower belly.

“Fuck!” I panted, involuntarily grinding against his leg, trying to find that pressure. “I-I’m sorry.”

He chuckled, and the vibration echoed through my soul.

He pulled away from me, leaving me leaning awkwardly against the car’s cold metal door.

He placed my camera on the hood of the car and angled it toward the fence that blocked the drop of the lower level below.

Confusion kept me trying to catch my breath.

When my brain caught up, I went to pull away, but he was grabbing my arms and wrapping my camera strap around my wrists like a rope, tying the end with his teeth. I opened and closed my mouth, trying to form words.

“Shut that pretty mouth unless you want me to gag you, too,” he warned with a devilish smile, challenging me to do so.

I didn’t want to know what he intended to use as the gag. I snapped my jaw shut so hard I felt my teeth clack together.

“Good girl. I guess you can follow directions after all, with the right….” He trailed off, grabbing my bound arms and pulling me forward toward the fence.

“Pressure,” He continued, growling low in his throat and throwing me into the chained links.

I gasped, my body off balance and my vision focusing on the sidewalk below me of the lower levels and the gap to the ground floor. The warbling noise of my body swaying back and forth on the weak links made me pant.

I turned my head, my eyes landing on the blinking red light on the hood.

He was…recording us.

“I thought you liked to watch, Little Voyeur.” He moaned, pressing me so hard into the links that I knew I would leave this fence with the imprinted marks on my skin.

He kissed my neck, trailing his tongue down my shoulder, and biting me on my sensitive flesh.

His wicked words were like a damning promise in my mind.

“Mmm, baby. You taste as sweet as I imagined. I am sure your cunt will be just as fucking maddening as your skin.”

I blinked, my brain fogging up like the mirrors of the cars around us.

“Oh fuck…” I whispered.

His hands gripped my hips, bending me forward against the broken wobbling fence of chain. I couldn’t catch my breath with only the promise of death clouding my mind, staring at the cage in front of me.

“God, your body Fallon. I fucking love your curves.” He panted, ripping at the fabric of my dress and gripping my ass so hard that it brought tears to my eyes.

“So many fucking women starve themselves and force men to miss all this tantalizing body to devour,” he said, continuing to make me feel more appreciated than I had ever felt.

I knew my body was soft where most were toned, but Pharaoh didn’t care. He…wanted me.

I moaned, grinding my thick ass into his dick. His pants were barely able to contain his hard-on.

I squeaked at the feel of his thickness, my mind shouting at me to fucking run.

I struggled with my internal dialogue, and he took advantage of my lapse in judgment, completely ripping my sundress, the garment falling through the cracks in the fence and down the long drop to the ground.

My panties were his next victim. The thin thong was yanked to the side, and his mouth disappeared behind me. I gasped, his hot tongue latching onto my clit, and his thick fingers finding my entrance and pushing in deep and sure.

He fit perfectly.

His other hand gripped my ass, anchoring me against that damn chain while he sucked at my sensitive flesh. I moaned, this feeling nothing like when Ferdinand touched me or anyone else I had been with in high school.

I felt fucking free, teetering on the edge of my goddamned death, literally hanging over the ledge. I let myself feel his hand, his mouth. He felt too good. The heat grew in my stomach, the tingles sliding down my legs and into my calves.

I tried to turn my head to look at him, but he gripped his hand in my hair, fingering me harder, my body so close to falling off this peak.

“Fuuuck, Little Voyeur.” He groaned, his heavy panting next to my ear.

The professor latched onto my neck and went even deeper into my pussy. He added pressure, another finger sinking into my wetness, the contractions pulling him in. I bit my lip, trying to stifle my moans.

Pharaoh growled, pounding into me, my body jangling the fence. “Don’t you fucking dare. You feel me. You feel my fingers bringing you closer to the orgasm. You feel the tightness in your stomach, the pressure, the pull. Feel it all or feel nothing.”

He started to pull his hand away, and I cried out, rocking my body onto his hand like a wild bullrider.

He moaned in approval, giving me everything I asked for and more, his belt dropping to the cement and his warm skin making me jump.

He still wouldn’t let me see. His hand inched back into my hair as he ground into me, his thick cock rubbing over my pussy. The sensations sent me over the edge, screaming and crashing as if to the ground below.

After the last pulses slowed, I stood there in a puddle of my own mess.

He laughed, pulling away from me and finally allowing my body to get a reprieve from the fence and the immediate drop over the edge in front of it.

My face, chest, and thighs bared that mark of the chain links.

I turned toward him, his pants buttoned again, his belt sliding into place. His beautiful face looked as free as I felt. I opened my mouth to speak, but he pulled his shirt off, making me clamp my lips shut.

He wiped his come off of me, turning me and undoing the tight knots of the camera strap. I rubbed my arms once freed from the binds. My pussy throbbed with the absolute full-body orgasm I had just experienced.

He walked over to a few cars away, headed to a black vehicle with way too dark-tinted windows, opened the door with a key, and pulled out a bag. He returned, digging his hands inside the duffle and pulling free a shirt and a jacket out of the leather bag. I couldn’t move. I just stared at him.

He smiled, throwing the button up over my shoulders and placing the jacket in my hands. He leaned down and kissed my hair, holding my face and brushing his thumb over my cheek.

“Enjoy your recordings, Little Voyeur. I will see you tomorrow.”

I tried to speak, but my voice was hoarse, and a squeak snuck out that wasn’t coherent.

I stood there watching him walk to his car, get in, and drive away.

The heat in my body was buzzing around my skin, and my legs were still a bit wet. Fuck, they felt like gelatin. I pulled the shirt tighter around my shoulders, my heat dissipating with his absence.

Finally, I reached up to the top of the hood and grabbed my camera. The image of his hauntingly beautiful green eyes was frozen on the screen as I turned it off.

I held my camera to my chest.

What the fuck am I doing?