Theirs to Chase

Chapter 5

The Doll Master

The perfect playground for my depraved games. There’s only one game left to play, and I can’t wait to wrap up this night. Through the dim glow of the carnival lights that just appeared again, I see through the cracks of the pumpkin house.

The thrill of the impending anticipation ignites a dark flame within me as I grab the pumpkin mask, concealing it over my face with a predatory smirk. She looks so innocent inside the house, all flustered, awaiting him .

Well, she will get what she wants. Min lilla mardr?m.

I open the door with a creak, hiding my bloodstained fingers under a pair of leather gloves.

“Are you back already?” She turns around, looking at me.

I tilt my head, absorbing her words, before I nod. She stares at me with a questioning look, but I remain silent.

I come closer to her, pushing her against the mirror, and her breath hitches in anticipation. I know what she’s waiting for—I could hear her.

Her eyes dart around the small space, looking for something I can’t quite understand. Her chest rises and falls, which only spurs me on as my hand trails over her naked body. A dress and ripped tights lie scattered on the floor beside us, but her panties are nowhere in sight. A growl of possessive need rises in my throat, knowing he stole them.

She’s fucking beautiful, caught between fear and a twisted curiosity. “Are you going to fuck me?” she breathes.

I cock my head, the pumpkin mask adding an allure of mysteriousness. Her wetness slides down between her thighs, and she squeezes her legs together, evidently aroused by the mask.

So she has a mask kink, it seems.

I knead her thigh, spreading out her previous release. She sounds so sweet and innocent when she moans, it only makes me want to corrupt her even more.

A doll must be broken before being remade.

I lean into her, breathing in her sweet scent. She stares into the endless depths of the pumpkin mask as I pinch her nipple between two fingers, the other hand slipping between her thighs. She’s fucking soaking wet. I slap her thigh in a command to spread her legs, and she gets the hint.

Good fucking girl.

I know he already warmed her up. It’s my fucking game, my rules. The final game in this act, and she’s mine for the time being. A growl comes from deep within my chest as I lower my pants, and before she can utter another word, I drive my cock inside her pussy until it’s buried all the way in.

She feels so fucking good. Like a wet dream dripped in sin—a morbid sight in a house of mirrors.

I grunt as I lift one of her legs, keeping it captive as she’s forced to balance on the other. She’s significantly shorter than us, making her more fragile and docile. At twenty-seven years old, she’s younger than both of us—I’m thirty and he’s twenty-nine.

Sweat beads her hairline as she screams at the intrusion, panting harshly.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re going to get us caught,” I whisper in her ear, imitating him as best I can.

Years of practicing have made me the perfect master.

She stiffens, but I thrust inside her, forcing her to get used to my length and girth. The slam of my hips hitting hers echoes in the room, and I catch sight of her in the mirror as she falls apart.

She’s fucking gorgeous.

“Look at you falling apart,” I whisper again. It’s much easier imitating him if I whisper.

She only moans, staring into the eyes of the mask.

“Look!” I growl, and she quickly averts her gaze to the mirror.

She’s locked in a trance with herself as she observes us fucking, our skin slamming against each other’s in a heat that’s oh-so welcomed. The obsession takes root deep within me, like a thorn that burrows deep and won’t let go, pricking and stinging with danger, yet holds a beauty so heart-touching, you don’t ever want it to leave.

I grab a knife from my pocket, slick with blood, as I press it against her throat, watching her eyes widen. “Shhh, don’t worry. You will soon come,” I promise, and watch as she visibly relaxes.

Foolish woman.

I press it lightly against her throat, igniting a sting of a red trail of blood that looks so beautiful against her skin. I drive my cock deeper inside her, making her hiss out a breath as she watches the blood drip between her breasts, mesmerized by the sight. Her fingers dig into my arms, but I relish the pain and continue to fuck her. Harder, deeper, until she’s struggling to stay quiet, afraid of the murderer outside.

“Fall apart for me,” I growl.

The jealous and possessive need inside me pesters until there’s no telling where it starts or begins. I will make him fucking pay.

I take her, and soon she’s crying out, my leather-gloved hand shushing her in a futile attempt. I don’t stop ramming my cock inside her until she’s trembling, sweat glistening on her skin.

“On you or outside?” I grunt, my own spine tightening with pleasure.

“Brand me,” she whispers. “Or are you too afraid?”

A surge of fury unleashes inside me at the challenge, and I grab her throat, watching as her eyes widen when I bend my knees, tilting my hips to drive as deep into her as I can. Then, I’m coming, releasing everything I have inside her.

She holds on to me, gripping my shoulders where the tailored shirt has slid down, ripping apart skin from the force of her hold, stinging like hell. But nothing beats the satisfaction she just gave me.

“You’re unbelievable,” she breathes, a smile playing on her lips as I pull out.

My cum spills out of her, and I watch, mesmerized, as I’ve claimed her.

“Mine,” I grunt.

She tilts her head in defiance, eyes scorching hot. I made her angry, and fuck if she isn’t stunning. Like a goddess formed from clay and flames, coming straight from hell.

“I’m not yours. I’m no one’s. I know absolutely nothing about you, and you can’t fucking claim me.”

I slam her against the mirrors, making one of them crash to the ground, shattering beneath our feet. She freezes from the loud sound echoing throughout, her face turning a paler shade.

She still believes the murderer is out there somewhere.

“Fucking mine,” I growl, not allowing her to protest anymore.

I grab her dress for her to take, and she puts it on, a little confused. Despite her earlier outburst, I can see that she still wants me.

I lean in to whisper in her ear, holding the knife in my hand with imminent threat. She eyes it—not with worry, but with a playfulness.

I smirk behind the mask, knowing I’m officially starting the final game for the night.

“Run, or I will catch you. And if I catch you, I will fuck you until your cries bear only my name, interwoven with your own blood.”