Stalking His Dark Romance

As soon as I catch my breath, Zane is hitting pause on the audiobook and storming up the stairs without a word. I’m not concerned about him though. I’m sure everyone needs to process their queer-awakening in their own way.

Besides, I got everything I wanted—my art supplies, uncuffed hands, and a jerk-off session with my kidnapper. All wins in my book, and I hardly had to act out to get any of it.

The basement door slams shut, and I’m left alone with the lingering scent of our releases. I’ll clean myself up in a second, but right now, I lay back to stretch my arms above my head, reveling in the freedom of movement without restriction. God, does it feel good.

Next, I’ll get Zane to let me roam freely in the house. Or at least move to his bedroom. Hopefully he’ll let me keep the collar on. I’ve grown very fond of the metal around my neck. Like he’s put his claim on me, even if he’s clearly still coming to terms with his newfound attraction for me.