Chapter 74 Walker
Walker
When Clara made her suggestion for a game, I think we were all a little taken aback.
Although RJ said they’d already talked it over, and Trips looked like it was something he’d hoped for, so maybe it was mostly Jansen and me who were surprised.
Either way, now I have a new flavor of excitement burning through my body.
I never would have imagined a game like this, but now that it’s in my mind, I can’t wait for it to start.
But we all double checked with Clara before we loaded up. As fun as this sounds, none of us would ever risk her, not for a moment.
Once she explained her logic, though, how no matter what, she knows she’s in charge of the game, we were all more than happy to see where this leads.
Jansen is the last one out of my truck, the photo book left on his seat as he adjusts his shirt sleeves, his blazer left in the car as well.
We are all wearing our masks again, just in case someone checks the security footage. We’re risking jail, but really, we’ll probably be fine. I’m sure crazier things have happened down here than what we’re about to do. Maybe.
God, I’m weirdly nervous.
Clara’s drumming her fingers against her thigh, those gorgeous nipples now covered in a sports bra under the red dress, which somehow adds to the warrior aesthetic she’s rocking, the tiara attached with a million pins to her head before we left.
Because she’s a queen and this is just one way we get to show her that.
RJ makes sure we all have our phones, Clara’s jammed in that same sports bra.
She left on the gladiator heels even though it will put her at a disadvantage, but I can’t say I mind.
It’s going to add something to this, that’s for sure.
Once we’re ready, we follow Clara into the tunnels under the U, likely empty as it’s still winter break. We’re not students here anymore, and it seems like a good ending to our time here. It’s also a way to erase the horrible memories Trips and I have of this place.
“How much of a head start are you getting?” Jansen asks as he jumps and stretches, warming up, ready to play, his eyes glinting with a wildness that’s been missing for a while.
“Thirty seconds,” Trips announces, and none of us has any reason to contradict him. She can run circles around us, so we don’t want her to get too far ahead. Although it is four against one. And really, no matter what, she’s going to win.
We all are.
“Drop a pin so you can find the car again,” RJ tells us as he does something with his phone.
He’s the only one who could probably keep up with her, so I don’t know why he’s so worried about her getting lost. Although I suppose Bryce is still on the loose.
But it’s not like he’s going to come hunt her down in the tunnels.
He’s more underhanded than that. Plus, none of us will be far away.
With the added security of RJ’s tracking app, we should be fine.
I still drop the pin as instructed, Clara bouncing on her toes in front of us.
“Ready?” she asks, her voice already thready with excitement.
“Run,” Trips says, his voice lower than I’ve heard before, unexpected shivers rippling over me as Clara squeaks, turns, and sprints away from us.
Trips counts, loud, like it’s a game of hide and seek.
And I guess in a way, it is.
One where we all seek, and when we find, we take whatever she’s willing to offer.
Which, based on the rules, is pretty much anything, as long as we all stay mostly clothed and observe the ‘watermelon means stop’ rule.
It’s going to be one hell of a fun game.
Once Trips reaches zero, we take off down the tunnel as a pack.
But we chose our starting point strategically.
Not too far down the path, it branches, one to each side and one straight ahead.
Trips turns right, Jansen left, and after a second, I keep going straight, assuming she’s going to get as far away as quickly as possible, only turning once she knows she’s out of range of our ears.
RJ stays behind us all, not dashing ahead like I know he can, and I wonder what his plan is.
He trails me down the center path, the bright electric lights and the echo of our footsteps nearly bringing me back to a similar run a year ago.
The excitement replaces the terror, though, and fuck, is that a good thing.
The path bends, and I follow it, but in the distance a flash of red vanishes around another corner.
I’m one lucky bastard. I round that corner and end up in a different parking garage.
Of all of us, I know these tunnels best, and I know there are two exits from here—one to the theater and one to yet another parking garage.
I pause, listening, and I don’t hear the clatter of heels on concrete. So, to the theater I go.
I take off for that tunnel, RJ dropping back, but still following me. I glance at him, a question in my gaze, but he just smirks and pockets his phone.
The fucker is cheating.
But he’s not taking the prize.
It clicks after a moment. With what RJ’s into, there’d be no reason for him to rush ahead. Clara said this was a gift for him, and he wouldn’t care about a hunt. But he would love watching us hunt Clara.
Fuck. This girl knows us better than we know ourselves.
I barrel into the basement of the theater, a flash of red closer than earlier. Those heels were a handicap we all needed.
With a burst of speed, I dash after her, and there she is, not ten feet in front of me, jogging, a soft jingle of jewels tinkling through the halls like fairy music.
I snatch her by the waist and spin her, pinning her back to the wall with my hips, her startled yelp soaked with anticipation.
I get her wrists pinned before she throws me off, and then I’m cursing my damn mask for not letting me kiss her.
But desperation is the mother of invention, or something like that, so I grind against her, reveling in her whimper, before I say what I’m thinking.
“Caught you.” I wait, watching her, making sure she’s as fine with this as she says she is. Her hips rock against me, her painted lips open, quick breaths escaping her. But I give her a chance to say her safeword.
“Walker?” she asks, her movement stalling for a moment, her eyes asking why I’ve stopped.
No safeword. No fear from her. Only the desire reverberating between us.
“Kiss me.”
Her lips meet the side of mine that are available, her little pants making me harder than I think I’ve ever been.
I switch my hold of her wrists to my left hand, and ruck up her skirts with my other one, pushing the strange swimsuit bottom that’s part of this dress aside, dancing my fingers over her damp flesh. Damn.
“You like this game, don’t you, princess?”
She strains against my hold, her hips seeking my fingers as I keep them away from where she wants them. But she nods, a little whimper of frustration matching the move.
I run my finger along her slit, playing with her. She is my prize after all. “So wet. It must have made running uncomfortable, you poor thing.”
“Walker,” she whines, wiggling. “Stop teasing me.”
“Ah, but you’re my prize. I can do whatever I want with you. Maybe even leave you wanting more. Should I do that? Just take what I want and leave you desperate for whoever finds you next?”
“Walker!” The spark of outrage in her voice has me chuckling, my decision made right then.
“I think that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” My fly is down fast enough for her dark eyes to lock onto mine, the outrage even louder there.
“You’d better not,” she warns.
I rub my bare cheek against hers. “I don’t think you’re in a position here to have an opinion. And we both know your other hunters will be more than happy to help you out. But I’m feeling selfish. And a bit sadistic. So, no coming.”
I line myself up, plunging into her warmth with no warm-up, the fit tight, taking a few tries to bottom out. Clara throws her head back against the wall, one leg wrapping around me, her heel urging me closer.
God, have I missed this. I stay seated as deep as I can, unable to move with the relief that takes over now that I’m finally here with her. “Clara,” I whisper, not able to say anything else, the feelings so large that words can’t even begin to encompass them.
“I know, I know,” she whispers back, and when I force my eyes open, I see a single tear stuck to one of her lashes.
I pull out and slam back in, making her squeak. “Never again. Promise me never again. It was too long, too hard, too lonely. I can’t do that again. Not knowing if you’re okay, or happy, or dead. It was brutal, Clara.”
The tear falls, a few following it down her pink cheeks.
She swallows, and her nod is wobbly, like maybe she wasn’t sure she was going to make it out of there alive.
And the thought has me withdrawing and pressing back into her warmth slowly, needing the reminder that after all that, she’s still here, with me.
Alive, warm and rosy, with her familiar floral scent surrounding me, trusting me with her body, with her pleasure.
It’s a heady thing.
So I take it slowly, even knowing the others might find us, might interrupt me taking my prize.
But I can’t rush this. My girl is here, alive, warm and wet and crying, and all those things are more beautiful than any grandmaster I’ve studied.
And with each excruciating withdrawal and press in, each pant of her breath against my single bare cheek, each time her thighs tremble as she tries to draw me even deeper, it turns into something beyond sex. Bigger than a game. Stronger than love.
It’s something that I held onto so desperately that I hardly dared think of it, turned flesh between us—hope for the future.
And when her muscles strangle me, a slow, heady orgasm taking her despite my threat not to let her come, I force my way through it, needing her strength to envelope me. To hold me together so I can hold her together.
We come, and I gather her to me, unwilling to step away, my nose pressed to the skin of her neck. “Never again,” I whisper, a few tears of my own dripping onto her shoulder.
“Never,” she promises. “Never.”