Page 15 of Hunted Bride

The next, we hit the floor.

He takes most of the impact, rolling to the side and taking me with him. He’s careful not to crush me as we fall. We land hard. His grunt is muffled by the Ghostface mask. I push him away and roll to my back. Before I can get my bearings, he sits up, drags my panties down my legs, and pockets them.

“You’re a naughty mouse,” he says. “You’re going to pay for that.”

“You said you wanted to hunt me, predator. If you want to catch me, you’re going to have to work for it.” I’m done fawning. Having finally located my sense of self-preservation, I kick and fight, but it’s useless. He has me pinned down, but good.

I can’t see him smile behind the mask. But I know his mouth is curved in a grin. It makes me want to yank the thing off his face and hit him.

“You’re awfully brave all of a sudden. Considering how you were running from me a minute ago,” he says. His voice is slightly muffled behind the plastic barrier. Again, I’m struck by how deep and sexy it is.

When I don’t obey his order, he wraps my own soaking wet panties around my wrists and ties them tight.

“No,” I grit out, trying to kick him. He just catches my legs and pushes them apart. Bending, he sucks one breast through the sheer mesh of my lacy bra.

The one I picked out this morning specifically because I was still thinking about our video call the night before.

That stops me cold.

“That’s it, Mouse. Stop thinking. Feel me.” Then, taunting me, he says, “Are you going to use your safe word? Make me stop?”

I could do it. One whispered “wingspan” and all of this would end. I believe him when he said he would go away forever if I said it.

Do I really want that?

My heart batters against my ribs. Instinct tells me to say it, yet a deeper sense of curiosity about the man who’s been such a presence in my life for so long keeps me from speaking the one word that would set me free.

Maybe I’m a fool, but I trust him not to hurt me.

Slowly, I nod. “Do it.”

His expression is unreadable behind that mask, but I sense his sudden stillness.

“I told you I’d catch you.” He sits back on his heels and strips off his black T-shirt. I feel my eyes widen as inch after inch of tattooed muscle is exposed. He works it over the mask without taking it off, then bends forward and tucks it around my head, covering my eyes. His T-shirt smells faintly of whiskey and laundry detergent with a hint of sea salt. I hate being immersed in his scent, but I can’t pretend it doesn’t hit me like a sensual drug.

“If you try to take the blindfold off, I’m gone. I’ll let you sit here all alone in this house for a few hours until you understand that I get to see all of you, but you never get to see my face. Got it, Mouse?”

“Y-yes,” I stammer. I can hear him moving, feel his weight shifting. My wet panties are cold around my wrists. He knows how I react to him.

“Six years, Mouse. Six long years of wondering what you’d look like when you finally stopped hiding. What you’d feel like when I touch you. What you’d taste like…”

I’m shocked when he pushes my knees apart and licks my pussy. I nearly bolt off the hardwood floor. The mask is off. I’m consumed with a burning need to see his face…

“Steady, Mouse.” He resumes driving his tongue through my dripping folds. I decide it’s not worth the risk. I’ve never felt anything as good as his mouth on my pussy. For six long years, it’s been nothing but my own hand or a vibrator down there. This is completely new and utterly addictive.

Two thick fingers thrust into me. I arch off the floor with a ragged cry.

“You spend so much time hiding from everyone. Your own family has no idea who you really are. Yet here you are, letting me see everything.”

“I hate you,” I gasp

“You don’t even know me.” Viciously, he lays into my clit with the flat of his tongue. I break around his fingers. Coming hard on his tongue, on his hand. Wet sucking sounds in time with the pulsing of my body. I writhe against my restraints. Can’t see. Can only feel him. Exposed to all the world.

I whimper when his mouth leaves my pussy.

“Very good, Little Mouse. We’re going to have fun playing this game.”

The faint sound of his zipper reaches my ears.