Chapter 16
I take off, heart racing as I sprint toward the lake, my feet pounding the earth. His words echo in my head— when I catch you, I’m fucking you — and the thrill of it shoots straight through me, pushing me faster. It’s not fear, it’s the anticipation, the heat building inside me as I run, feeling his presence behind me like a predator chasing his prey.
The trees start to thin, and I can see the lake ahead, moonlight glinting off the water, casting everything in silver. My breaths come hard and fast, and I know he’s right behind me— I can practically feel his eyes on me, feel the weight of his gaze even though I haven’t looked back.
I don’t have to.
But I’m curious, and against my better judgment, I steal a glance over my shoulder— and there he is, moving with purpose, his face half-shadowed by that red mask. Something about it— about him coming after me like this— turns me on. My feet hit the soft sand at the lake’s edge, and I skid to a stop, turning to face him, catching my breath. He slows, his gaze never leaving me, that mask making him look like he’s someone else entirely.
“You’re slowing down,” he says, voice low and teasing as he steps closer.
I swallow, trying to hold my ground, but he just keeps coming, his eyes fixed on me like he’s already won. “Maybe I wanted you to catch up.”
He smirks, and it’s dangerous, sending a shiver down my spine. He takes another step, closing the distance between us. “You don’t want to make it too easy, do you?”
A thrill zips through me, and before I know it, I’m backing up, my feet moving in the sand, feeling the cool night air against my skin. He’s closing in, and there’s no question in his gaze, no hesitation. I turn, ready to sprint along the water’s edge, but he’s already there, faster than I could’ve guessed, his hand grabbing my wrist and pulling me back.
“Got you,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear, sending a rush of electricity through me.
He spins me around, and my heart is pounding for an entirely different reason now. My hands press against his chest, but I don’t push him away. He’s got me locked in his gaze, and I’m not going anywhere— not that I want to.
“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, his voice thick, dark, and there’s a dangerous edge to it, like he’s daring me to deny it.
“Yes,” I whisper, the word escaping before I even have time to think. And it’s true. I wanted this, wanted him to chase me, to catch me.
Without another word, he pulls me closer, his mouth crashing onto mine, claiming me in a way that has my knees going weak. His hands are in my hair, tilting my head back as he deepens the kiss, leaving me breathless, lost, completely wrapped up in him. And when he pulls back, there’s a fire in his eyes that tells me he’s nowhere near done.
“Turn around,” he says, voice low, rough, sending heat coursing through me. I meet his gaze, defiant, but his grip tightens, holding me in place.
And I realize I don’t need to run anymore.
I’m left breathless, caught between the need to resist and the desire to let go. The words I want to say, the excuses, the protests, they all vanish. His presence is overwhelming, and in this moment, I know there’s no going back. He’s here, his hands on me, his body pressing close, and the way he looks at me— possessive, hungry— it makes everything else fade into the background.
I try to stand my ground, but my legs feel like jelly, and his proximity is intoxicating. The moonlight dances across his red mask, making him look like someone between fantasy and reality, a dangerous dream I’m caught up in.
“Zane,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, but it’s enough. He pulls me closer, until we’re pressed together.
“Don’t say my name like that,” he mutters against my lips, and before I can respond, his mouth is on mine again, fierce and demanding. He tastes like something forbidden, something I shouldn’t want but can’t stop myself from craving.
His hands slide down to my waist, lifting me effortlessly as if I weigh nothing. I gasp, and he takes advantage, kissing me deeper, harder, until my head spins and everything else fades away. There’s only him, only us, and this wild, unstoppable thing between us that I can’t fight anymore.
He sets me down by the water’s edge, his hands already working at the tie of my dress, and I let him. My body aches for him, wanting everything he’s offering.
“I’m not letting you go this time,” he whispers, his breath hot against my ear as his hands move over me, exploring, claiming. His lips follow the trail of his fingers, leaving a mark on my skin.
He lowers me to the soft, cool grass, and his hands are everywhere— possessive, urgent, as if he’s been waiting for this moment just as desperately as I have. His touch is rough but careful, fingers tracing patterns across my skin that send shivers through me. I feel his breath, hot and demanding, against my neck as he murmurs words that make my heart race, his voice low and hoarse.
His hands slide under the fabric of my dress, lifting it higher, and his eyes darken, devouring every inch of me. There’s a hunger in his gaze, a promise he’s about to keep, and it makes every nerve in my body come alive. He kisses me hard, his mouth claiming mine, pulling me deeper into him. My hands reach for him, feeling the warmth of his skin under my fingers, his muscles tensing.
And then he’s there, pressing me down against the earth, grounding me while everything else feels like it’s spinning out of control. The intensity in his eyes is like nothing I’ve ever seen, a fierce possessiveness that leaves no room for doubt.
“You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice rough and raw, and I know it’s not just a statement, it’s a vow.
I nod, breathless. “I’m yours, Zane. Now, please, fuck me.”
Zane’s name barely leaves my lips before he takes control again. His hands find my thighs, gripping them as if I might try to run, even though escape is the furthest thing from my mind. His strength is intoxicating, his dominance overwhelming. He kneels over me, his dark eyes behind the mask glinting with feral need, the moonlight casting jagged shadows across his face.
His fingers slide down the curve of my leg, finding the torn edge of my stockings. The rip he made earlier wasn’t enough to satisfy him. He fists the fabric, the sound of it shredding filling the quiet night as he pulls it apart. Cool air hits my skin, and I gasp, the contrast to the heat of his touch making my body arch beneath him.
“You like that?” he growls, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shockwave through me. “You like when I ruin something to get to you?”
“Yes,” I whisper, my breath hitching as his fingers trail higher. There’s no hesitation in him, no softness. I want him exactly like this— wild, untamed, and completely out of control.
His mouth crashes into mine, silencing whatever else I might say. The kiss is punishing, devouring, leaving no part of me untouched. His teeth catch my bottom lip, tugging hard enough to sting, and a moan escapes me before I can stop it. He pulls back just enough to smirk.
“There’s my little slut,” he murmurs, his tone dark and possessive, the nickname sending a rush of heat straight through me. “You can’t hide from me, Remy. Not when this is exactly what you’ve been begging for.”
He leans back, his hands working their way to my hips. I feel his fingers hook under the waistband of my panties, and I barely have time to register the motion before he tears them clean off. The sound of the fabric ripping makes my heart pound harder.
“You won’t be needing these,” he says, tossing the scraps aside. His hand trails over the newly exposed skin, his touch rough, claiming. “You’re mine now. Do you hear me? Mine.”
“Yours,” I gasp, the word spilling from me without thought, because it’s true. I can fight it all I want, but in this moment, he owns me completely.
His lips are on me again, but this time, they trail down my neck, his teeth scraping against my skin as he goes. I cry out when he bites down, his mark searing into me, and it feels like a brand— a warning to anyone else that I belong to him. The sting fades into heat, and my body arches toward him, desperate for more.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he growls, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise as he positions himself between my legs. “You’ve been driving me insane for weeks, running from this, pretending you don’t want it. But I knew. I always knew.”
His words crash over me, but I can’t respond— not when he presses against me, his length hot and unyielding. My nails dig into his shoulders, my breath catching as he pushes inside, inch by agonizing inch. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and I can’t stop the whimper that escapes me.
“Fuck,” he groans, his head dropping to my shoulder.
His dick slowly presses into me, filling me completely.
I moan, holding onto him.
“You’re so goddamn tight. You were made for me, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” I breathe, my voice trembling as I adjust to the stretch, the burn turning into something else entirely. “Only for you.”
“Fuck yeah,” he says, pulling back just enough to slam into me again, harder this time. The force of it sends me sliding against the cool earth, his body pressing mine into the ground. He doesn’t give me time to recover, his pace brutal, unrelenting, as if he’s trying to erase any doubt, any hesitation I might have left.
My nails drag down his back, desperate for something to hold onto as he takes me apart. His hands grip my thighs, pulling them higher around his waist, giving him even deeper access. I cry out, his name a broken plea on my lips, but he doesn’t slow down. If anything, he goes harder, his hips driving into me with a force that leaves me breathless.
“You’re mine,” he growls again, his teeth sinking into my shoulder, marking me in a way that feels primal, feral. “Say it, Remy. Say you’re only mine.”
“I’m only yours, Zane,” I gasp, the words ripped from me as pleasure builds, sharp and overwhelming. “All yours.”
He lifts his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine, and there’s something almost dangerous in his gaze.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, his hand sliding between us to find the place where our bodies are joined. His fingers press against me, and I cry out again, my body clenching around him as the pressure builds to a breaking point.
“Come for me,” he demands, his voice low and rough, and it’s not a request— it’s an order. My body obeys before my mind can catch up, pleasure crashing over me in waves so intense, I can’t do anything but hold onto him and ride it out.
Zane doesn’t stop. He grips my hips, holding me steady as he chases his own release, his movements growing erratic. When he finally lets go, his body stills, his breath hot and uneven against my skin.
For a moment, neither of us moves, the only sound the quiet lapping of the lake and our ragged breathing. His weight presses into me, grounding me, and I realize I don’t mind. In fact, I need it— need him.
“You’re mine now,” he murmurs, his voice softer but no less possessive. “No more running. Understand?”
I nod, my fingers tracing the edge of his mask, the reality of everything settling in. “No more running,” I whisper, and for the first time, I mean it.
The night air is still as Zane tugs my hand, leading me toward his car. I’m all too aware of the stickiness on my thighs, the way my dress clings to me, and the ridiculous grin on my face I can’t seem to wipe off. He’s quiet, but there’s this tension in the way he moves, like he’s keeping a leash on himself.
When we reach the car, he stops, looks down at me, and murmurs, “Stay here.”
I nod, biting my lip, watching as he opens the passenger door and steps closer again. He leans in, buckling my seat belt with a care I didn’t know he was capable of. His fingers brush my arm, and when he pulls back, he finally removes his mask. His face is flushed, damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead. He looks wrecked, and it does something to me.
“Can we go to your house instead?” I ask, my voice a little shaky but steady enough to make him stop.
His brows lift. “You want to?” His tone is incredulous, like he wasn’t expecting that.
Something inside me twists— nerves, boldness, I don’t know— but I lean forward and kiss him. Hard. He freezes for half a second before his hands find my waist, squeezing gently. His lips are softer now, letting me take control. When I pull back, his eyes are locked on me, blazing.
“Fucking hell, Remy,” he mutters, his voice rough. “Kiss me more often.”
My cheeks burn, and I glance down at my lap. I don’t trust myself to say anything. He doesn’t push, just takes my hand. His fingers are warm, strong, and I can’t look away from them as he turns on the engine.
Music floods the car, soft at first, but unmistakable. Taylor Swift’s Folklore .
I blink, staring at him. “What is this?”
“You like her music,” he says, eyes on the road. His voice is steady, almost nonchalant. “And I wanted to understand something you liked.”
My chest tightens in a way that isn’t unpleasant. I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face. “You— wait. You listened to Folklore ?”
“Not just listened,” he says, glancing at me briefly, smirking. “I’ve got opinions.”
“Opinions?” I laugh, the sound bubbling out before I can stop it. “Like what?”
“That one about the cardigan? It’s... okay.”
I gape at him. “ Okay ? Zane, that’s iconic.”
He shrugs, lips twitching like he’s holding back a grin. “Relax, baby. I’m still learning.”
Baby. The word hits me harder than it should, and I’m left staring at him like an idiot while the music plays on. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this— light, giddy, completely disarmed, free.
We pull up to his house— mansion, really— and I can’t stop the soft gasp that escapes me. It’s massive, all sleek lines and glowing lights, set against the backdrop of the night.
“You live here?” My voice sounds small, awed.
He cuts the engine and leans back, watching me with that unreadable expression of his. “Yeah. Surprised?”
“That’s one word for it,” I mutter, unbuckling my seat belt. He’s already out, coming around to open my door. His hand is outstretched, and I take it, letting him guide me inside.
The interior is even more ridiculous— marble floors, soaring ceilings, and a staircase that looks like it belongs in a movie.
“You’re rich rich ,” I say before I can stop myself.
He chuckles, the sound low and rough. “You’re just figuring that out?”
I swat at his arm, and he catches my hand, pulling me closer. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
His room is huge, all dark wood and soft lighting, with windows that look out over the lake. But it’s the bathroom that makes my jaw drop. The bathtub alone is the size of a small pool, and everything gleams like it’s never been touched.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say, turning in a slow circle.
He watches me, something softening in his expression. “You like it?”
“I mean this is insane,” I admit, running my fingers over the edge of the sink. Then I notice the shelf lined with products— familiar products. My products.
I whirl around, staring at him. “What the hell?”
He looks sheepish, scratching the back of his neck. “I saw them at your place. Thought you might stay over some time.”
“Some time?” My voice rises an octave. “This is my first time here!”
“Yeah.” He steps closer, crowding me in the best way. “Had to be prepared.”
My head spins. “You’re unreal.”
He grins, leaning down to brush his lips against mine. “And you’re beautiful.”
I want to argue, to keep teasing him, but his hands are already on the straps of my dress, sliding them down slowly.
“Can I?” he murmurs, his breath warm against my neck.
I nod, swallowing hard. He undresses me with a care that borders on reverence, his fingers brushing over my skin like he’s memorizing every inch. When I’m bare in front of him, I glance down and see the effect it has on him.
“You’re hard,” I start, but he cuts me off with a kiss to the side of my head.
“I always am when you’re around. Ignore it,” he says, voice strained. “It’s just— you’re fucking gorgeous, Remy. That’s all.”
His lips trail down my jaw, then my neck, before closing over one nipple. A moan escapes me before I can stop it, and he smiles, pulling back. “Let me clean you up and feed you before you make me forget myself.”
I’m still breathless as he leads me to the shower, turning on the water and testing the temperature before guiding me under the spray. His hands move over me, washing my hair, my body, taking his time with every inch of me. It’s not sexual— okay, maybe a little— but it’s more than that. It’s intimate.
“You’re good at this,” I murmur as his fingers work through the knots in my hair.
He smirks. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
When he wraps me in a towel and pulls me close, I catch sight of the bathtub again. It really is the biggest I’ve ever seen.
“Do people actually use that thing?” I ask, pointing.
His lips twitch. “Do you want to?”
“Really?” My voice is skeptical, but he’s already moving, filling the tub with water and adding something that makes it smell like vanilla and lavender.
“Of course, baby. Sit tight.”
I watch, wrapped in the towel, as he sets everything up, and my chest tightens again— this time in a way that’s entirely unfamiliar. I don’t know what’s happening between us, but I never want it to stop.
Once he is done, he comes back to where I am sitting, a huge smile plastered on his face.
“It’s ready, Rem.”
“Okay.” I let him lead me to the edge of the bathtub, then wait for him to pull the towel off me.
I sink into the bathtub, the warm water lapping over my skin, soothing me like nothing else could right now. My head rests against the edge, my legs stretched out, completely surrounded by luxury. This tub isn’t just big— it’s obscene. Deep enough to drown in if I’m not careful.
He kneels beside me, a soft smile curving his lips. “You good?”
I nod, closing my eyes for a second, letting the heat work its magic. “Yeah.”
“You look like you’re about to pass out.”
I crack one eye open. “It’s your fault.”
“Not denying that,” he says, grinning. Then he leans in, his lips brushing mine, soft but commanding all at once. It’s unfair how good he is at this.
He pulls back too soon, his gaze roaming over me. “Stay here. I’m going to figure out dinner. What are you in the mood for?”
“I’m good with anything,” I murmur, already melting back into the water.
He freezes mid-step, turning to look at me like I’ve just confessed a sin. “Anything?”
I sit up slightly, water rippling around me. “Yeah, anything. Why?”
He comes back, crouching so we’re eye level. His hand wraps gently around my wrist, grounding me. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“The guessing game. If you want something, tell me.” His eyes bore into mine. “What are you craving, baby?”
I bite my lip, caught off guard by how serious he looks. “Sushi,” I whisper.
He smirks, leaning in to kiss the corner of my mouth. “Sushi it is.”
Before I can say another word, he’s gone. The bathroom feels way too quiet without him. I close my eyes, letting my thoughts drift.
It doesn’t take long for him to come back, though. The sound of the door opening pulls me out of my haze, and when I look up, there he is, barefoot, wearing gray sweatpants that hang so low they’re practically indecent. He’s carrying two takeout bags and a drink tray balanced on top.
“Got the sushi,” he says, kicking the door closed behind him.
I sit up, water splashing slightly. “That was fast.”
He shrugs, setting everything down on the bed. “Perks of knowing people.”
As I start to climb out of the tub, he’s suddenly there, stopping me. “Hang on, baby.”
I pause, my hands braced on the edge. “What?”
He walks over, cups my face, and kisses me. It’s not sweet— it’s intense, like he’s been waiting all day for this moment. When he pulls back, I’m left breathless.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he says, his voice low, rough. His thumb brushes over my bottom lip. “You sore from earlier?”
I shake my head, heat crawling up my neck. “No.”
“Good,” he murmurs, his hand sliding down my arm, his touch light but deliberate. “Can I make you come at least once before we eat?”
My breath hitches, and I nod, my voice caught somewhere in my throat.
His fingers trail over my skin before dipping beneath the water. I gasp when he presses my clit and circles generously. It’s enough to send my eyes to the back of my head. My hips lift, begging for more.
“Look at me,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I force my eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. His fingers circle and rub, pressing hard, working faster, and I’m powerless to do anything but fall apart under his touch. He watches me the entire time, his eyes burning with desire.
Then I’m floating in pure pleasure. My hips move with his fingers as I imagine him inside of me. Suddenly, his fingers are not enough. I don’t think his mouth will be enough now that I’ve had all of him. When he stands, his hand adjusts his very visibly hard cock through his sweatpants. And I know exactly what I want now. I need him inside of me right now.
“Zane,” I say, reaching out to tug at the waistband.
He laughs, his head shaking. “Remy, that’s a surefire way to give you a UTI.”
“No, it won’t,” I argue, tugging harder. “Just get in here. Please.”
His grin turns wicked. “You’re begging now?”
“Yes,” I snap, glaring up at him. “I need you.”
He doesn’t argue this time, stepping out of his sweatpants and sliding into the tub with me. The water sloshes over the edge as he settles behind me, his chest pressed to my back, his arms wrapping around me like I belong to him.
His hands find my waist, pulling me closer.