Page 14 of Hunted Bride

The cold plastic mask presses against my cheek, a stark contrast to the heat of his large hand at my waist holding my arm. My glasses are knocked askew. I can’t fix them. He keeps my other arm trapped above my head. My breath comes in shallow pants. I’m caught between danger and desire, wanting him to touch me and wanting to run away. Stuck indecisively between fight and flight responses, instead, I lapse back into fawning.

“W-what do you want from me?” I whisper.

“Take off your dress.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Everyone will see me.”

This house is situated on a secluded hillside, surrounded by an eight-foot fence. I could parade around nude and not a soul would see it. Still. It’s the principle of the thing.

“Good,” he says.

Humiliation rolls through my body. Slowly, I inch my skirt up. I like dresses. They’re comfortable. But today I wish I’d worn something more difficult to take off. I bunch the fabric in my free hand and hoist it as far as I can. Abruptly, my khishnik steps back and lets me take it the rest of the way off.

Trembling in my bra and panties, I stare directly at his chest with my fists balled at my sides. I swear I hear every metal tooth parting when he unzips his fly and pulls out his cock.

“Kneel.”

I drop to my knees exactly the way I did when he ordered me to yesterday. No resistance. A mortifying throb of desire cascading through my body. A depraved part of me likes surrendering to him. I don’t have to think. I don’t have to do anything except listen to his next instruction, and feel all the things I’m not supposed to.

Dirty. Horny. Desirable.

He shifts his pants down his narrow hips just enough to pull out his cock. His huge, enormous, holy fuck I’ve never seen a dick that big before in my life, cock. Granted, the number of real penises I’ve seen in my life is exactly zero, but the internet exists. I’ve seen examples. In pictures. This is the best one I’ve ever seen, much less touched. Saliva floods my mouth.

“You want this, don’t you, Mouse,” he says. I can feel his stare intent upon me from behind that mask.

Not like this. I’m lying to myself though. He’s acting out every dark fantasy I’ve entertained for years. This isn’t simply a man exerting power over his weaker victim—me. On some level, it’s a mutually-created fantasy come to life.

Or at least, it’s less terrifying to think of it that way. I feel marginally more in control as an active participant.

Carefully, I wrap my hands around his shaft. My fingertips barely touch. He’s that girthy. Or my hands are that small. Or both.

Can I take him?

I guess we’ll find out. With those empty black eyes in the mask burning into me, I trace the vein that runs along the underside of his cock with my tongue. He groans and fists my hair, pulling tight. My lips part. He thrusts forward. There’s a hint of salt on the tip. I barely taste it before the blunt head is thrusting against the back of my throat. A needy little whine comes out of me. I shift on my knees, seeking friction that isn’t there.

This shouldn’t turn me on, but it does.

He hits the back of my throat. I gag.

“Relax. Let me in,” he grits out from behind that stupid mask. I want to yank it off. Who is he? I can understand why he feels the need to conceal his identity. All the shit he’s been doing to me is highly illegal.

But he should know by now that I’m not going to tell anyone what we do.

He’s been my dirty little secret, my personal security guard, and my secret lover for years. Just as I’ve been his.

I force myself to breathe past his churning thrusts. He pushes deeper into my throat. The urge to be sick eases. The need to come increases. Tears well and roll down my cheeks. A tidal wave of dark bliss rolls through my body.

He grunts roughly and drives all the way to the back of my throat. I feel the pulse that signals his climax on my tongue. But I don’t taste his salt until he withdraws, leaving a coat of sticky musk in my mouth. I gag. Reeling, I sit back on my heels. My clit throbs with desperation for the same kind of release I gave him.

My khishnik steps back. Seeing my chance, I scramble to my feet and run.

8

MILENA

My captor’s startled bleat is accompanied by a crash. I don’t glance back. A wide grin spreads across my face as I run full-tilt down the hallway away from the bedrooms toward the stairs leading to the lower level. They lead out to the pool and a recreation room with a bar, pool table, and stairs into the basement. That’s where my sister stores most of her film crap.

Before I even make it to the stairway, I’m tackled by a huge man. For one delirious moment, I’m flying, surrounded by his muscular arms with his chest pressed against my back.