HER MASKED STALKER

PROLOGUE

Suddenly, a touch on my back startled me. Turning around, I froze in place-it was him, my stalker.Uncertain of what to do, I stood there, paralyzed for a moment.

He towered over me, his face obscured by a ghostlymask. As I regained my senses, I instinctively moved backward, trying to put some distance between us.

But he advanced towards me, relentlessly. My back hit the kitchen counter with a jolt. Frantically searching the countertop with trembling hands while keeping my eyes fixed on him,I finally grasped a knife. With a surge of desperation, Ilunged at him. In an instant, he seized both my wrists with one hand and pressed me firmly against the counter.

His eyes, the only visible part of his face, bore the eerieshadow of the mask that concealed him. He stared into my eyes with intensity.

"You've been naughty, fiore mio," he murmured. "This isn't how you treat your lover."

His words sent chills down my spine. Love? What kind of love was this? To me, it felt like torture. As the thought
escaped my lips, I trembled with fear and confusion.

"What the hell- you're not my lover, you're a lunatic!

This isn't love, it's obsession," I spat, glaring at him. His grip on my hands remained tight as he spoke.

"This is my way of loving you, fiore mio. You're like something divine to me. I can't even begin to express how much I adore you," he declared softly, his words
chilling me to the bone.

Summoning every ounce of defiance, I lashed out, "You psychotic bastard, fuck you!"

His smile widened beneath the mask, a twisted amusement evident even in the shadows that shrouded his face.He chuckled darkly, continuing as if amused by my defiance.

"I've been waiting for this moment, fiore mio, fuck me all you want," he growled, his words igniting a new wave of fury within me.

I kicked and struggled as he lifted me effortlessly, wrapping my legs around his waist. Gasping, I felt the knife leave my grasp, clattering to the floor.

My anger surged, but what unnerved me more was the physical reaction he stirred in me. Feeling his hardness pressed against me sent a chill of fear down my spine-not at his arousal, but at his sheer size. What am I thinking? This is madness...

Before I could regain my senses, he began grinding against me, shocking me further. I squirmed and fought against his grip, but his strength overwhelmed me.

In that moment, a disturbing realization dawned: I was slipping deeper into his hold, despite my desperate attempts to resist.

"I'm screwing everything up," I muttered to myself in despair. His gaze pierced through me as he spoke.

"I know you're enjoying this, fiore mior. Don't pretend otherwise," he taunted, fueling my rage to its breaking point.

I thrashed and struggled, determined to remove his mask. His grinding halted abruptly as he focused on restraining my hands, diverting my efforts.

After a fierce struggle, I finally tore off his mask. "Show me your face, you bastard!" I demanded, anticipation and dread swirling within me.

But as his true face was revealed, my words caught in my throat, a chilling silence replacing my anger.

What the actual fuck----

This is the tale of a haunting seduction, where masks conceal as much as they reveal, and where the deepest shadows hold the brightest secrets.

Welcome to the world of "Her Masked Stalker," where every heartbeat is a whisper and every touch is a threat.