Page 20 of Pounded in the Patch
This is about her never leaving me.
Every instinct I have is screaming at me to forget the rest of the plan, to just take her right here over and over until she's so broken and desperate she'll agree to anything I ask. But I can't. Not yet. The final act has to be perfect, has to happen exactly where I've planned it.
At the altar I built for her.
Where I'm going to make her mine forever.
I reach into my open shirt and check that the ring is still secure on its chain around my neck.Soon. So fucking soon I'll show her what this was really about.
What she's really going to become.
"You did so well, night monster," I murmur, reaching out to pull her bottom lip down with fingers that still smell like her pussy. "But we're not finished yet."
Her eyes flutter open, still glazed with the aftermath of her orgasm, and I can see the confusion and lingering arousal warring in her expression. "What do you mean? How could there possibly be more?"
I mean I'm going to hunt you one more time through my maze, drive you exactly where I want you, and then fuck you on the altar I built while I?—
I mean you're never leaving this place as the same woman who entered it.
But I can't tell her that. Not yet. It’s not time.
"I mean the night isn't over," I say instead, stepping back and giving her space to pull her torn clothing back together. "We still have the grand finale."
She stares at me like I belong in an asylum, which maybe I do. Maybe loving someone this desperately, this completely, is a form of insanity.
If it is, I don't want to be cured.
"The grand finale?" Her voice is hoarse from screaming through her orgasms, and the sound makes my cock twitch again. "I can barely stand."
"Then you'd better rest quickly," I say, circling her slowly like the predator I've become. "Because in five minutes, I'm going to hunt you through this patch one last time. And when I catch you—not if,when—I'm going to do something very special."
I can see her trying to process what I'm telling her, her brilliant mind working even through the haze of exhaustion and arousal.
"Where?" she asks, looking around.
"You'll see," I grin beneath my mask, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. The gesture is tender, but my hard eyes never leave hers. "It's at the very heart of everything I've built. The center of my world."
I adjust my devil mask, watching as her pupils dilate at the sight. She's learned to associate this mask with pleasure now, withsurrender, with the dark parts of herself she's finally allowing to surface.
Perfect.
"Five minutes to catch your breath, night monster," I say, my voice taking on that commanding edge that makes her shiver. "And then you run for me one last time."
And this time, when I catch you, you're never getting away.
I step back into the fog, letting it swallow me so she can't see where I've gone. But I'm watching her. I'malwayswatching her. Learning her patterns, memorizing every micro-expression, cataloging every tell that shows me what she's really thinking.
She's not going to run toward the forest this time.
She's going to run deeper into my field of pumpkins, because part of her wants to see what else I've built for her.
Part of her wants to be caught by me again.
Part of her is already mine, even if she doesn't consciously understand it yet.
I use the time to position myself strategically, calculating the angles and pathways that will drive her exactly where I need her to go. The altar I've constructed is at the highest point of the patch, surrounded by the most elaborate jack-o'-lanterns and hidden until the last possible moment by carefully positioned fog machines.
I can’t wait for her to see it.
