Page 151 of Painted Scars
CHAPTER 43 - KATE
The cabin’s too quiet, the woods holding their breath with me. I can’t tell if August arrived back before me, or if I’m alone. Knowing my grumpy stalker, he’s prowling in the shadows somewhere with Josh. I cock my head and listen. Trees creak and leaves rustle outside in the wind.
Heat ignites in my core as I creep through the dark cabin. My pulse thuds in anticipation of where he’ll catch me and orchestrate the fantasy that’s been scratching at the back of my brain since I first picked up a dark romance.
Our morning fire’s burned down to coals, casting a soft, amber glow across the furniture. I don’t dare place another log on it and give him more light. I want all of his darkness wrapped around me.
I glanced at the door again. Unlocked, just like he ordered in that smoky voice that sparks every nerve ending. My thighs press together, and my hands itch for him to grab me and cover my mouth. Every threat from him is safe, and I’m no longer scared of doing this.
The porch creaks, and my stomach swoops. I freeze, listening. Nothing. False alarm. I move deeper into the house,deciding where to hide. Bedroom? Guest bedroom? Pantry? Kitchen slash dining? Joint bathroom and laundry? The cabin layout is simple. He’ll find me in no time, and that’s the fun of it.
I hear the doorknob on the back door rattle. My breath saws out. He’s here. I back away from the sofa, jumping at the fire popping. He draws it out, a faint scrape at the door, fingers dragging over glass. A low thud at the opposite end of the cabin. He’s circling, hunting, and the thrill is electric. Every shadow turns suspect, long, and hungry on the walls.
Footsteps tread lightly on the back porch. The handle turns. I can’t breathe. I’m too excited. The door swings inward, and my heart rabbits. I slip into the bedroom, and the door clicks, locking behind him. Breathing heavily, I dive under the bed and cover my mouth. My skin buzzes as he checks each room with long, precise steps. His footfalls get closer, until I see his feet in the doorway, his shadow stretching into the room like a sexy menace. The air charges with raw need. We both want this, and I love that he’s willing to act out my fantasies for me.
“I know you’re here, Glitter Bomb,” he growls, all dark promise. “I can smell you.”
My Book Girlie wants to squeal, crawl out, and let him catch her.
Rational me hunkers down and lets him do all the work.
His boots stop next to the bed, and he bends down to peer under the bed. His chuckle is dark and slides down my spine like a blade. “There you are.”
He moves fast, hands snaking out, catching me under my arms, dragging me out. I half squeal, half laugh and kick my legs. I scramble to get away, and he lets me—his little way to balance the power dynamic and fill me with confidence instead of helplessness. It’s more fun and rewarding with a longer chase, and I loathe giving in easily. Unfortunately, we’re stayinghere as guests, and we can’t break furniture in my escape attempts, so we’ll have to play nice instead of dirty.
I crawl backwards to drag out the chase. He leaps across the bed and onto the floor, spinning, and grabbing me. One yank drags me out from beneath the mattress. He cuts my exhilarated scream off with a palm over my mouth. Pinned to his chest, I wriggle to get away. The smell of smoke and forest clings to him, grounding and suffocating all at once.
“I’ve been watching you for a long time.” His breath fans across my neck, and I shiver. “Watching you read, sleep, undress, and touch yourself for me. You’re mine, little one.”
My heart hammers under all the heat, the dizzying relief of being taken the way I’ve been craving.
Josh is going crazy, nipping at August’s heels, probably spurred on by my scream-laughs.
“Quiet!” King Daddy barks at him. “Sit in your bed.”
The terrier slinks away, huffing as he drops into his doggy bed.
My stalker throws me on the mattress, straddles me, and strips me out of my clothing. “Don’t pretend you haven’t imagined how wet you’d get when I finally came for you and took your pussy and made it mine.”
My coat goes first, and I beat at his chest. He rips my t-shirt in two and licks his lips.
“Fuck, baby, did you wear this pink bra for me?” He plucks the strap of my orange bra and panty set with fiery florals. “I’m going to fucking ruin you tonight because you’re already ruining me.”
Power floods my veins at hearing his confession and sexy dirty talk. Fire engulfs the drenched folds between my legs, and I rub my thighs, desperate for his touch.
“Look at you.” He traces my mouth with his finger. “Aching for the monster under your bed.”
He climbs off me, hauls me off the mattress, cages me again, and drags me into the living room. His weight pressed to my back and mouth, fulfils every filthy fantasy. My legs stumble along, trapped, shaking, and desperate for him to give me what I need. This is just the start. The appetizer. He pivots me toward the sofa, forces me to my knees, pinning me between his body and the cushions.
“I know how much you need this.” His lips graze my temple, a threat disguised as tenderness. “To be taken by a man who’s obsessed with you and will bury bodies just to hear you beg.”
One hundred percent true. I release a muffled noise into his palms, my lips grazing him. Heat coils between my legs, and my nipples ache to be squeezed.
“Scream all you want, baby,” he growls into my ear. “No one’s coming, and I’m taking this pussy.”
Jerky motions suggest he’s tugging something from his clothing. My breath stutters as he lets me go to hook a black cloth over my mouth. The fabric tastes like smoke and salt, silencing me better than his hand, freeing him to do whatever he wants to me. My chest heaves, caught between the exhilaration of surrender and the ache of wanting more.
“Who owns your bratty mouth?” He secures a knot at the back of my neck, then drops possessive kisses from my shoulder to my neck.
