Page 64 of Hide And Seek

“Rhys…” I choked out.

He didn’t answer. Instead he devoured me like a man possessed, tongue sliding deep before flicking fast and hard over my clit. He ate me with filthy, wet sounds, sucking and licking until my legs shook violently on either side of his head, and when he growled against my pussy, the vibration undid me.

I came hard, crying out as pleasure slammed through me. He kept licking me through it, drawing out every last shudder.

Only then did he rise. He freed his cock from his pants, thick and heavy, and fisted it once. My eyes widened. He wasbig. How it would ever fit inside was beyond me, but that only made me want it more.

He stepped between my spread thighs, lining himself up. One hand tangled in my hair, forcing me to meet his intense gaze.

“Think you can take it?” he asked, voice low and rough.

A wanton ‘yes’ was already in my mouth, but somewhere in the hazy comedown of my climax, my earlier thoughts were managing to reassemble themselves. All the suspicions about Rhys and his possible involvement in the camp murders flooded back, instantly followed by a burning wave of shame.

Because the really damning thing was that the suspicion wasn’t entirely killing the mood for me. In fact, it was turning me on even more; something crawling up hot and shameful from that dark, twisted part of me.

You can feel bad about this later, I told myself.And you will. You absolutely will.

But later was later. Right now, I was about to get fucked by a man I semi-suspected of being a summer camp slasher, and the thought of it sent a dark thrill through me instead of fear.

“Yes,” I finally whispered. “Fuck me.Please.”

Rhys drove into me in one powerful thrust, and I gasped sharply at the stretch, nails digging into his shoulders. He was so thick it bordered on pain, but the burn quickly melted into blinding pleasure as he worked himself deeper.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned.

He bottomed out with a low curse, then started fucking me with deep, punishing strokes. “That’s it, baby,” he growled. “Take it.”

The bench creaked beneath us as I met every thrust, grinding against him, chasing the overwhelming pleasure. Even with the lingering suspicions crawling at the back of my mind—that blood on his neck, those stained shoes—the prospect of danger only made me wetter. Hotter. Hungrier.

Rhys fucked me harder, like he could feel it too.

“That’s my girl,” he growled against my mouth. “Take it just like that.”

My second orgasm hit without warning, ripping through me so violently I cried out, clenching around his cock. Rhys thrust deep one final time and came with a rough groan, spilling inside me as he held me against him.

For a long moment, the only sound was our ragged breathing, and he stayed buried deep, pressing slow, surprisingly soft kisses along my neck while I trembled in his arms.

He finally exhaled, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly as he pulled back just enough to look at me properly. “I’m fucking starving now,” he said. “How about you?”

I let out a breath that almost turned into a laugh, the normalcy of his question feeling a little strange after everything that had just happened between us. “I’m pretty hungry too,” I said, nodding slowly.

“Wanna head to the dining hall for an early lunch?”

I nodded again, still a little dazed. “Sounds good.”

We dressed in silence, the shed air cooling fast around us. As I pulled my top down and smoothed it into place, my gaze dropped absently to the floor and snagged on Rhys's bloodstained sneakers again. Then a memory hit me so suddenly it felt physical, like a stone dropping straight through my chest.

Earlier, I’d been so focused on trying to reconstruct the paintball game that I hadn’t thought about anything from the few minutes before it. Not the walk down to the field. Not the conversation with Rhys. But now it was back, sharp and complete.

‘Heading to paintball?’he’d asked as he fell into step beside me.

‘Yup,’I’d replied, eyes drifting over to his khaki cargo pants and scuffed black lace-up boots.‘I’m guessing you are too, based on those combat boots you’ve got on.’

My stomach dropped so hard it almost hurt.

Combat boots. That was what Rhys had worn to the game that day. I could see them clearly in my head now, right down to the creases in the leather. So that meant he’d lied right to my face earlier to explain away the blood on his sneakers. And the only reason he’d lie was if there wasn’t an innocent explanation for it. Which meant—

The thought didn’t fully form. It didn’t need to. A cold, crawling dread spread through me instead, flooding every inch of my body.