Chapter 43 - Kate
The cabin’s too quiet, the woods holding their breath with me. I can’t tell if August arrived back before me, or if I’m alone. Knowing my grumpy stalker, he’s prowling in the shadows somewhere with Josh. I cock my head and listen. Trees creak and leaves rustle outside in the wind.
Heat ignites in my core as I creep through the dark cabin. My pulse thuds in anticipation of where he’ll catch me and orchestrate the fantasy that’s been scratching at the back of my brain since I first picked up a dark romance.
Our morning fire’s burned down to coals, casting a soft, amber glow across the furniture. I don’t dare place another log on it and give him more light. I want all of his darkness wrapped around me.
I glanced at the door again. Unlocked, just like he ordered in that smoky voice that sparks every nerve ending. My thighs press together, and my hands itch for him to grab me and cover my mouth. Every threat from him is safe, and I’m no longer scared of doing this.
The porch creaks, and my stomach swoops. I freeze, listening. Nothing. False alarm. I move deeper into the house, deciding where to hide. Bedroom? Guest bedroom? Pantry? Kitchen slash dining? Joint bathroom and laundry? The cabin layout is simple. He’ll find me in no time, and that’s the fun of it.
I hear the doorknob on the back door rattle.
My breath saws out. He’s here. I back away from the sofa, jumping at the fire popping.
He draws it out, a faint scrape at the door, fingers dragging over glass.
A low thud at the opposite end of the cabin.
He’s circling, hunting, and the thrill is electric.
Every shadow turns suspect, long, and hungry on the walls.
Footsteps tread lightly on the back porch.
The handle turns. I can’t breathe. I’m too excited.
The door swings inward, and my heart rabbits.
I slip into the bedroom, and the door clicks, locking behind him.
Breathing heavily, I dive under the bed and cover my mouth.
My skin buzzes as he checks each room with long, precise steps.
His footfalls get closer, until I see his feet in the doorway, his shadow stretching into the room like a sexy menace.
The air charges with raw need. We both want this, and I love that he’s willing to act out my fantasies for me.
“I know you’re here, Glitter Bomb,” he growls, all dark promise. “I can smell you.”
My Book Girlie wants to squeal, crawl out, and let him catch her.
Rational me hunkers down and lets him do all the work.
His boots stop next to the bed, and he bends down to peer under the bed. His chuckle is dark and slides down my spine like a blade. “There you are.”
He moves fast, hands snaking out, catching me under my arms, dragging me out.
I half squeal, half laugh and kick my legs.
I scramble to get away, and he lets me—his little way to balance the power dynamic and fill me with confidence instead of helplessness.
It’s more fun and rewarding with a longer chase, and I loathe giving in easily.
Unfortunately, we’re staying here as guests, and we can’t break furniture in my escape attempts, so we’ll have to play nice instead of dirty.
I crawl backwards to drag out the chase.
He leaps across the bed and onto the floor, spinning, and grabbing me.
One yank drags me out from beneath the mattress.
He cuts my exhilarated scream off with a palm over my mouth.
Pinned to his chest, I wriggle to get away.
The smell of smoke and forest clings to him, grounding and suffocating all at once.
“I’ve been watching you for a long time.” His breath fans across my neck, and I shiver. “Watching you read, sleep, undress, and touch yourself for me. You’re mine, little one.”
My heart hammers under all the heat, the dizzying relief of being taken the way I’ve been craving.
Josh is going crazy, nipping at August’s heels, probably spurred on by my scream-laughs.
“Quiet!” King Daddy barks at him. “Sit in your bed.”
The terrier slinks away, huffing as he drops into his doggy bed.
My stalker throws me on the mattress, straddles me, and strips me out of my clothing. “Don’t pretend you haven’t imagined how wet you’d get when I finally came for you and took your pussy and made it mine.”
My coat goes first, and I beat at his chest. He rips my t-shirt in two and licks his lips.
“Fuck, baby, did you wear this pink bra for me?” He plucks the strap of my orange bra and panty set with fiery florals. “I’m going to fucking ruin you tonight because you’re already ruining me.”
Power floods my veins at hearing his confession and sexy dirty talk. Fire engulfs the drenched folds between my legs, and I rub my thighs, desperate for his touch.
“Look at you.” He traces my mouth with his finger. “Aching for the monster under your bed.”
He climbs off me, hauls me off the mattress, cages me again, and drags me into the living room.
His weight pressed to my back and mouth, fulfils every filthy fantasy.
My legs stumble along, trapped, shaking, and desperate for him to give me what I need.
This is just the start. The appetizer. He pivots me toward the sofa, forces me to my knees, pinning me between his body and the cushions.
“I know how much you need this.” His lips graze my temple, a threat disguised as tenderness. “To be taken by a man who’s obsessed with you and will bury bodies just to hear you beg.”
One hundred percent true. I release a muffled noise into his palms, my lips grazing him. Heat coils between my legs, and my nipples ache to be squeezed.
“Scream all you want, baby,” he growls into my ear. “No one’s coming, and I’m taking this pussy.”
Jerky motions suggest he’s tugging something from his clothing.
My breath stutters as he lets me go to hook a black cloth over my mouth.
The fabric tastes like smoke and salt, silencing me better than his hand, freeing him to do whatever he wants to me.
My chest heaves, caught between the exhilaration of surrender and the ache of wanting more.
“Who owns your bratty mouth?” He secures a knot at the back of my neck, then drops possessive kisses from my shoulder to my neck.
He doesn’t give me time to adjust. Precious seconds where I may run. His hands snare my wrists, binding them deftly with another strip of silky cloth, cool over my skin. There’s no slack, no chance of slipping free, his knots efficient and unbreakable.
I nod, the gag muffling my whimper.
His hands fist my hair, pulling my head back sharp enough to make my eyes water and light me up inside. The fire’s glow licks across his face. His merciless gaze rakes over me, but I catch the flicker of something softer underneath.
“Look at you,” he rasps, his spare hand skimming from my hip, up my waist, and kneading my breasts. “Tied up, gagged, your nipples hard. You’re not scared, you’re fucking soaking wet.”
I squirm and whimper into my gag, aching for him to give me what we both need.
His hand slides from my throat, between my breasts, down my belly, and cups my pussy. “My wet little brat. Teasing me with this ass.”
He leans back to pepper my backside with spanks that leave me burning hotter than ever.
His palm drags from my shoulder to my elbow. “I should make you wait. Make you beg for it.”
I groan through the gag.
He laughs, a low and dangerous sound. “Patience has never been your strong suit, sunshine.”
My bound hands stretch awkwardly, but I don’t fight the delicious burn in my wrists. My skin hums like a live wire. My heart’s a frantic drum, my body liquid heat.
“You trust me with this?” he asks, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper, seeking my consent. “You want your Daddy to take care of you? Own you? Control you?”
My throat tightens. I nod harder than I expect. My heart’s in my mouth. I’m trusting him. Blind, reckless, and complete. I push my hips back into him like a shameless brat.
“That’s you begging, isn’t it, baby?” He bites my shoulder. “You want this. You’re ordering me around with those fucking curvy hips.” He’s giving me one final out.
Hell, no. I’m not using my safe word. I moan my consent.
He yanks my sweatpants and panties down, tracing patterns on my ass. “I’m not going to be gentle this time. This is the full fantasy, rough and messy.”
He leans down to bite me and mark my flesh.
Reverent hands drag from my hips to my throat, applying enough pressure to hold me still but not hurt me. “I’ll never hurt you, baby. I’ll destroy anyone who tries.”
The rasp of his zipper makes my lungs seize in anticipation.
He presses his hot head against my throbbing core, and a muffled cry rips from my throat.
There’s no easing into me. No, I get a brutal, deep piercing.
I fist my hands behind my back and whimper.
Every relentless thrust knocks the air from my lungs.
Every drag of his cock in my pussy has me arching and gasping around my gag.
“My mouthy little journalist,” he grits out. “So goddamn brave in daylight, reduced to nothing but whimpers for your stalker at night.”
Heat tears through me as my climax soars closer. My body shakes against the sofa, wrists and arms straining with each punishing drive into me. I can’t sass my way out. I can only take.
He leans over me, his chest searing against my back. “You wanted a monster. You got one.”
I choke on a moan and sob, hair plastered to my cheeks with sweat. Pleasure lashes at me. I’m gagged, helpless, completely at his mercy, and I’ve never felt safer.
His hands slide down my body, cruel fingers finding the slick proof of how badly I want this between my legs. I jolt, a whine vibrating against my gag.
“So fucking greedy for me,” he mutters, almost in awe.
His rhythm switches into something rougher, wilder, his control fraying at the edges. Teeth latch onto my neck again. Fingers bruise my hips, and I fucking love their punishing grip. The sofa scrapes with every ragged thrust.
“Mine. You hear me, Kate?” He clasps my chin and tugs my face to his. “Every reckless laugh, every glitter-soaked mess your alien pussy makes.”
I don’t get the chance to splutter-laugh at the joke he made on our second meeting, because his fingers find me again, rubbing unapologetically, and the pressure builds, threatening to tear me apart. My body’s wound up to the breaking point. I try to warn him, try to beg, garbled sounds coming out.
He growls louder into my throat. “Fall apart for me, Glitter Bomb.”
The order crackles inside and detonates. Climax rips through me like an explosion of electricity. Every nerve burns from the heat of it. Pleasure radiates from my core outward.
He follows with a violent shudder, burying himself deep, breath raggedly in my ear. His hands clamp over my bound wrists, anchoring me through the pleasure storm.
For a long moment, the only sounds inside the cabin are our wild, tangled breaths. The gag is wet against my lips and raw against my skin. I don’t feel anything but loved and safe. Safe in the ruin he’s made of me.
He releases the knot, and the gag slips loose. Air floods into my lungs, and I gasp. He kisses the teeth marks like it’s a penance. Arms tuck me to his chest, caging me in their warmth. For once, I don’t need words. My pulse slows, and the burning in my lungs eases.
“You okay, baby?” His hoarse voice is a choir.
I laugh, wrecked and shaky. “That earned more than a three-star Yelp review, King Daddy.”
He fists my hair. “Only a three?”
“There’s room for improvement.”
He huffs out a groaned laugh and loosens the binds on my wrists, reverent now, rubbing life back into them. “I didn’t fuck the brat out of you.”
“You can try.” I attempt to goad him into another spicy scene, this time chasing me and stabbing his knife into the mattress.
To my disappointment, he doesn’t take the bait and slides his palms along my sides.
“I never thought I’d get this.” His voice rumbles low, like his bike in low gear. “A home. Peace. You. A fur-kid slash prince.”
My heart trips. I smirk, because if I don’t, I’ll cry. “Anywhere is home with you, Daddy, so long as you’re flipping pancakes and tying me up.”
His mouth lifts into a rare happy smile. “Keep mouthing off, and I’ll gag you again with my dick this time.”
The simmering heat in my belly says we both know I’ll let him.
“You can earn your five stars, Daddy.” I play with the dark hairs on his chest.
My hand moves lower, and I trace the scars on his chest and shoulder.
We’re both made of scars—my assault, his failure—and they didn’t heal, they hardened.
Once upon a spicy time, our trauma shaped us and cloaked us in armor and lies.
I’ve stopped hiding behind mine, and so has he.
We’ve chosen what our scars mean to us, and erased the storyline of shame, guilt, regret, and powerlessness.
Love transformed and rebuilt us. Together, we painted our scars in blood, truth, defiance, love, and fucking glitter.
Scars are chapters, and we’re still writing ours.
“This isn’t the end of our story, Daddy,” I whisper. “It’s the beginning of ours.”
I earn another smile, this one content and happy, and hope burns hotter than the fire between us—dark, messy, delicious, and ours to ruin however we want.
He brushes hair from my temple. “There are still plenty of plot twists, spice, morally gray choices, and dark, delicious tropes and tying up fantasies.”
Absolutely. For now, our chapter ends with me bound, claimed, and ruined in the best way. Fugitives sprinkled with glitter. Burning in the morally orange fire. Only One Road we’re walking. Together. Two hearts to guide and heal each other.