Page 66 of Retrograde

“Riiiiiileeeyyy.” Fuck, does he sound closer than before? “You can’t keep running from me forever. When I catch you, your pussy’s going to weep around my cock. I’ll fucking tear you apart.”

When I make it to a small clearing, I know I can’t go on. The muscles in my thighs are cramping so badly that my legs are buckling under me. I dive behind the root base of a large, uprooted tree, hoping for the best.

But I barely manage to catch my breath when I hear the rustling of dry leaves crunching under his boots, and his crooning, threatening voice, “Riiiiiileeeeyyy. I told you not to set me free.”

Crack.

My limbs turn to jelly at the sound. Sick, scalding anticipation pools in my core. I get on all fours to peek around the dirt-covered structure, the smell of earth sharp in my nose.

Aron is walking slowly in my direction, his belt in his hand.

Crack.

He slaps it on his thigh again, and I forget how to breathe.

“This is going to hurt, Riley.”

My mind is racing, but I can’t think of a single thing to do. If I stay where I am, he’s going to find me. I can’t run from here without being seen. And if he sees me, he’s going to catch me, and then ... everything inside clenches and then melts at the thought of what will happen then.

He has me. It’s game over either way.

As I finally take a large breath, a moan slips past my lips.

“Riiiiiileyyyyy, come out, come out, wherever you are ...”

Damn, even his voice is intoxicating. I’m going to lose my mind. These things I’m feeling, all the fear and anticipation, the whole burning blend, I need a release from it right now.

Acting on pure instinct, I undo the zipper of my trousers, letting them slip down my hips. I bring my fingers to my clit, slick, swollen, and so sensitive that the simple contact sends shivers down my spine. Electricity starts rushing through me as soon as I begin circling the bud with the pad of my finger, my inner walls spasming.

The steps draw near, and I increase my pace.

I need it before he gets here, I need it, I need it so badly. I’m going to go insane. I’m going to die. I can’t cope with him like this ...

Pleasure coiling through me, I throw my head back, moaning, no longer caring that he’ll hear me, because I’m close, I’m so, so close ...

But then, just as I feel that I’m about to tip over the edge, Aron steps into view, towering over me, his smooth chest slick with sweat and heaving.

Still chasing my high, desperate for it, my moans turn to sobs, tears running down my cheeks. I want to beg him to let me finish, but I can’t even speak anymore. I’m a complete mess.

“Well, would you look at that.” The mask hides his expression, but his voice is husky. “Fucking beautiful.” He traces my parted lips with his thumb. “What a good girl.”

His praise and his touch set fireworks off inside me, and I’m finally falling. Ecstasy soars through me, my muscles dissolving, pulsing with pleasure deep within. It’s not as intense as when he guided my hand, but this time it’s just mine; it’s something I claimed. I cry out and then ... I cry. A flood of tears rushes down my cheeks, the relief of my release crushing.

Aron kneels in front of me. In the mask, he looks a lot more like the Necromancer I knew before I met him—the one I saw in newspapers and nightmares. Which is why the softer note in his voice is completely jarring when he drawls, “Shhh. Save your tears. I haven’t given you a reason to cry yet.”

I huff, but my heart flutters, and then freezes when his fingertips brush my face to wipe my tears off.

He grips my wrist and forces my arousal-coated digits closer to my mouth.

“Clean yourself off. You can’t pretend to hate messes and then stay this filthy.”

Like stripped of free will, I obey, taking my fingers in my mouth and sucking my own taste off them.

“Such a good little whore,” he murmurs, his voice muffled by the mask. “But that won’t save you.”

A strangled yelp falls off my lips when his hands close around my waist.

“It’s my turn now.”