Chapter 5

Emory

BIG ANNOUNCEMENT COMING MONDAY. HOPE TO SEE YOU ALL THERE.

Now, some of you came to me and asked me, “If you are going to put NSFW in the poll, please don’t put anything after it.” Well, I have heard you, and I will make sure not to tease you like that again … who am I kidding? I am a dark Romance author. I live for the tease. So, since you all were such good little readers and interacted with the poll, I will give you both the chapter and the NSFW art.

Disclosure:

The art will be censored for free subscribers; however, if you have not used your free post option yet, now would be the chance to do so. This chapter has spice, and you will get to see the full photo (Hopefully I can sway you to be submissive … I mean be subscribers by the end of this post)

Author notes:

Damn you, Oliver. Sorry, he took over for a bit there. Now, without further ado, here is your dinner menu for this chapter.

Chasing Stalking

Knife Play Edging

Sexual Themes

Enjoy, little Reader.

Chapter 5

Emory

I am running. Why am I running? The darkness follows me in tandem with the resounding crash of each lamp, splitting into shards from the kiss of a pebble, going mock holly fuck. I shouldn’t be okay with this. However, my heart is more alive than ever, adrenaline feeding into it, and giving my feet the “will power” to sprint through this dim labyrinth of stone.

A brick wall appeared a few feet ahead. A glance to either side, confirming the thought that had invaded my head before my eyes could come to the same conclusion... Trapped ... like the little mouse he had made of me. Just when I thought I was in control, I found myself here, at the end of an alleyway ... a strange man on my trail.

I twist on my heels, back against the cold material behind me. The vision before me is both entrancing and terrifying. He stands before me - a delicious cocktail of balefulness and forbidden desire. The only light is above my head. Before its radiance was stamped out, the last thing touched by its beam glints: bright, silver, mysterious. Then, all is pitch black, and I can feel the wind as he rushes forward.

Reaching out, I try to touch him. I grasp nothing but air as he steps away from my touch. I stand alone in this leaden alley, my sex at war with my brain. A tornado forms from the circles my stalker is creating. Stalker… the word brings me closer to reality, so I ask, “Are you going to hurt me?” When he answers, I become weak in the knees. “Only in ways you'll be begging for more.” That voice is familiar, so comforting … but why?