Chapter Twenty-Eight
Athens
God, what just happened back there… I can barely catch my breath, and I don’t want to.
Whatever this game is, this dark, depraved hunt we’ve created, I never want it to end. I’m soaked in sweat, in sin, in sex. I can still taste the last one on my tongue, still feel his hands all over my body, bruising and branding me like I was made to be fucked by the Devil himself.
And maybe I was.
Because this? This is a different kind of hunger. The kind that makes your blood run hot, your mind blur, your legs weak, but your core? Your core begs for more.
I don’t just want the chase.
I crave it.
I need the way they hunt me. The way they don’t just fuck, I mean devour me. One by one. Each touch a new brand. Each thrust a new sin carved into my soul. I’m not sure who I am anymore, but I know who I’m becoming.
Prey.
Willing. Aching. Dangerous prey.
I laugh, giddy, drunk off adrenaline and lust, as I sprint through the woods, naked as the moonlight slicing through the trees. I have no idea where I’m going. That’s the best part. The fear? It’s a thrill that licks my spine like a blade.
There are five masked monsters out here, horny, depraved, and armed with nothing but power, dominance, and the kind of cocks that rewrite a woman’s understanding of pleasure.
And I’m their fucking playground.
Does it scare me?
Not in the way it should.
Do I want to be caught?
Absolutely. Just not yet.
A cold gust slides over my bare skin, teasing the welts rising along my ass. Goosebumps race across my arms. Somewhere along the way, I lost my pants, no, they were stolen. I remember one leg coming off, but the rest?
Who the hell knows.
“Too busy begging to be fucked to notice,” I mutter, breathless.
I don’t even care. Rip every stitch off my body and leave me for the wolves, as long as it’s one of them doing the devouring.
My feet slap the forest floor, mud cooling the fire that churns low in my belly. It’s not just sex I want anymore. It’s not even dominance. It’s the obsession. The feeling of being claimed . Held. Tamed and unraveled all at once.
I’ve been used. Fucked. Bitten. Owned.
And I still want more.
I’ve never needed anything the way I need them, all of them . My body’s become something unrecognizable, something addicted. Every nerve ending pulses with the echo of their hands. Their teeth. Their masked fucking stares.
I slow when I reach the base of an enormous oak. Its roots twist like skeletal fingers rising from the underworld. It looks like something ancient. Powerful. Like it’s seen sinners crawl through these woods and never return.
Good.
I move toward it, drawn in by some force that doesn’t feel entirely human. I perch on one of its fallen limbs, legs spread and chest heaving. Naked. Wet. Bleeding from places that should be hidden.
But I don’t hide anymore.
I belong to the night.
I don’t know how long I sit there, long enough to breathe, to plot my next escape. Long enough for the voice inside to start again.
You don’t want to leave. You want the next Devil to find you. To ruin you.
“I’m not a slut,” I whisper to no one.
A voice cuts through the night like a knife.
“You’re not?”
My spine snaps straight. “Who’s there?”
A soft chuckle slithers through the trees.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared now. We haven’t even started playing.”
I jump to my feet, heart thundering. The air thickens, wraps around my throat like a hand.
“Come out,” I say, braver than I feel. “Show me what you’ve got.”
“Cocky little slut,” the voice drawls. It’s dark. Filthy. Delighted. “Alright then. Lettuce play.”
“…Did you just say lettuce ?”
I break into laughter, clutching my ribs.
“I say dumb shit like that all the time,” he purrs.
Movement.
A figure emerges, dressed in black, a Guy Fawkes mask catching the moonlight. In his hand, a gleaming knife.
“I love the chase,” he growls. “Run, so I can claim my prize.”
That’s all I need to hear.
I bolt.
The forest is alive with breath and shadows. Branches claw at my skin, thorns scratch my thighs, and the sound of heavy boots follows me, closer, closer.
I glance back, he’s gaining.
“Shit,” I whisper, giddy.
I’m being hunted by a masked monster with a knife and a raging hard-on, and I’ve never felt more alive. More me .
But fate is a fucking sadist.
My foot catches on a root. I go down. Hard.
“Fuck!” I hiss, pain splintering through my shin. “Seriously? You dumb bitch, you’ve seen this movie a hundred times.”
I groan, rolling onto my back.
And then I hear it.
Boots.
Crunching. Nearing.
He’s here.
I look up, and I smile.
Because I don’t want to be saved.
I want to be taken .
"Need a hand, sweetheart?" The voice is smooth, dark velvet laced with mischief, echoing from behind the Guy Fawkes mask.
I look up, breathless, filthy, sore in all the right ways, and still aching for more. His gloved hand extends toward me like temptation itself.
I take it.
"Thank you," I murmur, chest rising as my naked body brushes his. A delicious pulse sparks in the space between us.
His voice dips low. “You have no idea how fucking perfect you look like this… skin flushed, pussy wet, begging for a cock. I want to ruin that mouth with my kiss, but…”
He leans in close, and even through the mask, I feel the heat of his restraint.
“…we’re still playing the game. And I want to earn my prize.”
"Who says you'll catch me?" I tease, lips brushing the edge of his mask. “And what's with you all calling me a prize?”
“You are one,” he growls. “A wet, reckless, feral little gift from the gods. And judging by that limp? I won’t have to chase long.”
I should be embarrassed. But his words crawl over my skin like silk-tipped knives, and I let them pierce.
"Maybe I could hobble a few feet before you throw me down and make me yours again."
His cock hardens against me, thick and unmistakable through his pants.
"Give you a head start?"
“Define head start.” I smirk, already stepping backward.
"You just said ‘lol’ out loud, didn’t you?" His tone darkens with amusement. “What the fuck.”
“I’m not like everyone else.” I shrug. “Get used to it.”
And with that, I turn and start moving, half-limp, half-daring, all naked.
I don’t get far.
His hand tangles in my hair, yanking me back into him. I gasp, legs stumbling beneath me as I feel fabric being tied across my eyes.
“Couldn’t wait.” His voice is rougher now, heat burning behind the mask. “Don’t move.”
I obey.
I hear rustling, feel the shift in the air, the thud of something being laid down behind me.
When he pushes me down, I don’t hit leaves or dirt.
It’s… soft. Warm.
My hand grazes the surface, fleece. A blanket.
“You brought a blanket?” I ask, stunned.
“I knew exactly what I planned to do to you. I just wanted you comfortable while I fucked the sweetness out of you.”
A wicked chill drips down my spine. “That’s… thoughtful.”
"Don’t mistake mercy for weakness,” he murmurs as he climbs over me, heavy and deliberate. “Because I will break you tonight.”
His weight settles between my thighs, breath washing over my drenched core, peppermint and something darker… sage? Blood?
“You smell like sin,” I whisper.
“And you smell like heaven. Is it okay if I taste you?”
God, yes.
“Yes,” I breathe. “Please…”
My legs fall open like they were waiting for this moment all my life.
He kisses along the inside of my thighs, slow and possessive. Not sweet, claiming . He bites the meat of my hip and I arch with a cry.
“I haven’t even touched your cunt yet,” he growls. “Don’t fucking come until I say.”
“I, okay, God…”
He licks up my slit once, deliberately slow, dragging his tongue over every inch. I cry out. He growls and grips my thighs tighter, spreading me until I can’t close them even if I wanted to.
Then he devours me.
No teasing. No mercy. Tongue swirling, lips sucking, teeth grazing, I don’t stand a chance. My hands clutch at the blanket, my blindfold damp from sweat.
“You like that, little slut?” he mutters against my clit. “You taste like sin and surrender.”
I moan his name, or I try to. But I still don’t know which Devil this one is.
“Answer me,” he snaps, slapping my pussy once, just enough to sting.
“YES! I love it, don’t stop, please!”
He pulls away.
I almost cry.
Then I’m flipped like a ragdoll, face down, ass up, before he slams back inside me.
“Fuck, you feel even tighter like this.” His voice turns ragged, primal.
The slap of skin echoes in the night.
His fingers dig bruises into my hips, pulling me back into each thrust like he’s trying to own me with the sheer force of his cock.
“Say it,” he snarls. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m, fuck, yours, yours, yours!”
I break.
And he doesn’t stop.
He fucks me through the tremors, through the screams, through the bliss that turns my vision white beneath the blindfold. My body’s not even mine anymore. It's his . Theirs. Whatever Devil owns me next.
“I’m gonna come,” I gasp, wrecked.
“Good,” he growls behind me. “Because I’m not done.”
“Nobody could make me stop now.”
His laugh is low and feral, something wicked and unhinged that rattles my spine. It’s the kind of sound that should scare me. Maybe it does. But I let it slide, because whatever fear I feel… it’s tangled up in something far filthier.
He shoves me down just enough to arch my back, hand finding my clit like he owns the right to touch me there, and God help me, maybe he does. His fingers pinch my swollen bud, rolling it between them with expert cruelty. That’s all it takes.
I detonate.
My orgasm hits like a fucking wrecking ball, violent, blinding, breathtaking. My legs tremble, my core convulses, and I cry out for him like I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
“F-fuck! Yes! Don’t stop, don’t-”
And then he does the unthinkable, he slams in, hard . So deep, it feels like he’s buried in my guts. My body lurches forward as I shatter again, stars spinning behind my eyes even though I’m blindfolded. I see darkness. I feel it. I’m suspended in it.
“I’m, God, I’m coming!”
His grip bruises my hips, holding me down like he wants to leave fingerprints on my soul. “Give it to me. All of it,” he snarls. “I want them to know I was here. That I had my cock so far inside this greedy pussy, you’ll still feel me dripping out of you when the sun comes up.”
I hear him, but the words are garbled, drowned out by the static in my head. My brain’s gone to white noise, and all I can feel is heat and fullness and filth.
And then I feel it.
His release.
Hot. Endless. Possessive.
Flooding me like he wants to breed me.
My legs fall open even wider. I let him . I want him to ruin me. To claim me. To mark me so deeply there’s no hiding what happened out here tonight.
“Such a perfect little slut,” he breathes, voice dipping into something low and reverent. His thrusts slow, but they never lose their weight. “So fucking good for me.”
One final slap to my ass, sharp, stinging, proprietary.
“Sorry, sweetheart. Hit and run. Gotta regroup with the others. Don’t take off that blindfold ‘til you can’t hear me anymore. Be good for the next Devil, yeah?”
Crunching leaves. The sound of him vanishing into the woods like a phantom with a satisfied cock.
I wait.
Longer than necessary.
When I finally pull the blindfold off, the cool night air brushes against my face like a secret. I blink up at the stars. They’re still watching. Witnessing every wicked act committed in the dark.
“That was… fucking intense.”
My voice is hoarse, half gone. My body is wrecked. My pussy aches.
I drop back onto the blanket, limbs too heavy to move, skin still tingling where he kissed and bit and broke me.
How much more can I take?
How many more Devils are waiting in the shadows, hard and hungry and ready to use me?
Will the next one be worse, or better?
Will I beg for more?
I already know the answer. And as those questions churn in my filthy, fogged-up head… I start to drift.
Sore. Full. Happy.
Sleep comes slow, thick and warm like the come still seeping out of me. I don’t fight it. Let them find me. Let them have me. I’m not done. Not yet.
Let the next Devil come.