All Mine

All Mine
A Dark Stalker
Romance

As told to Jesse Joren

The characters and events in this story are a pure
work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, dead or alive,
is a coincidence and unintended by the author.

Text copyright 2015 Jesse Joren, all rights
reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored, or
transmitted by any method without express prior written consent of
the author.

Once upon a time, on a
dark and chilly night in a deep Southern city…

Ding-dong-ding...

A quick push of the
button, and it was done. The doorbell sounded with tasteful chimes
inside the house. While I waited, I glanced at the discreet plaque
posted next to the front door. "The Adairs," it
proclaimed.

How fucking civilized.

I could hear the muffled
rhythm of your heels as you came to answer the door. Already I knew
how you were dressed: a sexy pirate wench costume, mostly concealed
under a cloak for the sake of the little
trick-or-treaters.

The costume party you
planned to attend didn’t start until midnight. My plans for you
were going to start a lot sooner. Under the Death mask, I
smiled.

You were alone in the
house on this chilly Halloween night. Your husband had driven away
in his oh-so-respectable silver Lexus hours ago, leaving you alone
yet again.

Shadows had thickened into
night, birthing a steady stream of fairies and cowboys, clowns and
vampires, ghosts and witches. The house was a magnet with its
galaxy of orange lights, yards of gossamer web, the stuffed black
widow spider menacing from its place over the front
door.

I’d watched you working on
those decorations all afternoon, admiring the way your snug denim
shirt molded to your body as you reached over your head. My heart
thumped each time your jeans hiked up to show the rich curve of
your well-toned ass.

You put on quite a show,
even if you didn't know it. Maybe you did. There was something
about the way you moved that said you knew you had a hot body, that
there was no crime in a little strutting.

I knew so much more about
you than just your pretty body. You had a two-latte-a-day habit at
the Starbucks near your office. Caramel swirl, extra shot of
espresso, nutmeg on top. You kept $500 taped under the driver’s
seat of your black Integra for emergencies.

You wrote steamy stories
and then shredded them -- poorly, by the way -- before stuffing
them into the curbside trash. The aborted erotica was sometimes
accompanied by empty vodka bottles that appeared when you were home
alone too often.

The trash held a lot less
hot fiction and more of those bottles in the past year. You were
the perfect young couple on the surface, but it was all a careful
façade. Your hubby might call it a fast track to success, but
divorce court was looking more likely in his future.

Maybe that explained the
flirting that had crept into your daily routine along with the
lattes. Once in a very great while your eyes turned my way, but
usually it was for others.

I think that was how
tonight really started. I wanted that smile -- and everything that
came with it -- all to myself. Sharing didn’t suit me.

Tonight you were alone
again, but you wouldn’t be for long. You were going to be mine
alone. This would be a Halloween to remember.

The evening was winding
down, no trick-or-treaters for the last twenty minutes at least.
The porch light had flicked off a few minutes before as I waited in
the shadows. That told me you didn’t expect anyone else to knock
tonight.

I waited in the dark,
holding my plastic pumpkin with one gloved hand. The other hand
reached under the heavy folds of my cape to stroke the throbbing
heat that pressed against my lower belly. The smooth leather felt
good against my eager hardness.

You're going to get one
more trick-or-treater after all.

The porch light stayed
off, but the door swung open. Sweet relief to be close to you after
so much anticipation. I drank you in.

Curling black hair tucked
under the red kerchief. Shining green eyes. Sun-kissed skin fading
to cream now that summer was over. The black cloak you’d worn while
passing out candy was draped over the loveseat near the
door.

The pirate ensemble only
enhanced the lushness of your body. A loosely draped white shirt.
Tight black leather skirt. Black leather boots that came up to your
thighs.

A dagger was tucked into
the top of your right boot, giving off a mellow gleam that lent it
credibility. It looked real, but I knew it wasn’t. The real thing
was hidden in my own boot, ready to help my plan along.

God, how I loved that
heart-shaped face with its frame of slanting cheekbones, and
emerald eyes that glowed even in the dim light. And fuck, that
smile. Seeing the gentle curve of your pretty, mischievous lips
made me throb with the anticipation of sliding myself between
them.

But that was for later. I
had to enter the house before I could enter you. Like a vampire,
once I was inside, I could no longer be refused.

You held out a large metal
bowl overflowing with leftover candy, but I said nothing. Your
smile widened, and for an instant I could almost read your mind.
You thought I was just an extra-shy rugrat waiting for free
chocolate.

"Happy Halloween!" Your
low, sweet voice made me weak. "Are you Death? Your costume is
really scary! Take all the candy you want, sweetie. I think you’re
my last trick-or-treater for tonight."

Our eyes brushed across each other as
you spoke, and for a moment your cheery little speech paused. I'd
been practicing an evil stare, and I knew the pale blue contacts I
was wearing gave my hazel eyes a half-blind, crazed look as they
glared from the Death mask.

With slow deliberation, I
reached for some candy and tossed it into the empty plastic pumpkin
with a series of faint thuds. Your gaze dropped at the sound, and
then your eyes widened.

My hand was covered by the
smooth leather glove, but it was large and long-fingered, very much
adult. The porch was dark, but even so, I saw you realize that even
though I’d crouched to appear short, my bulk wasn’t caused by a
costume.

The air on the porch
crackled with sudden tension. Your voice was much more reserved as
you started to shut the door.

"Well, happy Halloween. I
have to go now. I have a party, and I—"

Your words faltered as I
rose from my knees. The cape and darkened porch had provided a
decent camouflage. Now I towered over you as you retreated back
into the house.

Your eyes were wide and
shocked. A man could get lost in eyes like those. I sure as hell
had.

"You’re going to be late
for that party, Jenna."

The thick Death mask
warped my already deep voice to a hollow boom. Two quick steps
brought me into the doorway, blocking the door from closing, or you
from escaping.

"Then again," I continued,
"you might not make it at all."

The bowl slid from your
hands and gonged on the floor. Snickers and Tootsie Rolls and
Atomic Fireballs scattered on the smooth hardwood.

I glanced back over my
shoulder, making sure there were no lingering trick-or-treaters, no
lurking parents on the sidewalk. In that split second you caught me
with a shove, almost sending me back out the front door and onto my
ass.

When you turned to run, it
was easy enough to return the favor and give you a quick push that
spilled you onto the living room rug. My reward was a nice view up
your skirt.

Holy hell. Black lace
panties. What else would a stylish pirate lass be wearing? I kicked
the door shut and came after you, dropping on you and pinning your
body under mine.

Pilates and running kept
you in good shape, but I was stronger from long hours spent at the
gym. Your mouth opened to scream. My hand clamped over your lips
until my gloved fingertips pressed into the soft flesh of your
cheeks.

"Shut the fuck up. You’ll
be glad I came." I snickered at the unintentional pun.

"I have to wonder what
those boots mean. Black leather, high heels, tight as hell. Those
aren't pirate boots. Those are ‘fuck me’ boots. So I have to assume
that’s what you want. Just say so if I’m wrong."

Your teeth grazed my palm
as you tried to bite, but the leather was good protection. I
nuzzled the warm hollow of your neck, inhaling the heady scents of
clean hair and soapy skin.

"What’s the matter, honey?
Cat got your tongue?"

Your sharp wriggle almost
freed you from under me. I kept you in my arms, but you writhed
until you ended up facing me. I found myself looking into your face
as I covered your mouth again to keep you quiet.

Predictably, your knee
tried to find my balls. I maneuvered myself between your thighs,
pinning you against the unyielding wood floor. My hips did a slow
twist against yours, letting you feel my hardness. Just a hint of
the plans I had for you.

There was anger in your
eyes, and I relished it, thinking how it would turn to passion of
another kind if I did this right. I was smiling, but I knew all you
saw were the same crazed eyes looking out of the grotesque
mask.

There were Death masks,
and there were horrible Death masks. I'd chosen the most hideous
one I could find, just for you. How does the old saying go? The
Devil is in the details?

Sometimes there’s a lot of truth in
those old sayings.

The next part was tricky.
I pressed my palm over your mouth and nose. Pure instinct made your
hands come up to break my grip on your face as you fought for
air.

While you struggled I used
my free hand to find a roll of bondage tape that I’d hidden under
the cape. I released your face, letting you have one reflexive gulp
of air. That was my chance to seal your mouth closed with a wide
black strip of the tape.

Jerking your hands up
between our bodies, I passed the tape under and over your wrists,
binding them together in a quick, tight series of X-twists. You
weren’t going anywhere now.

"That should make it
easier to get you upstairs." I got to my feet and pulled you up
against me. The bandana had fallen off in the struggle, and your
hair spilled over your shoulders. Your eyes blazed up at me over
the tape.

My cock pleaded with me to
just rip your skirt up and take you against the nearest wall. The
one beside the stone fireplace looked just about right for what I
had in mind. A few thrusts into you and it would be
done.

A cooler part of my brain
prevailed. This evening was an enormous risk. It was too long in
the making, with too much at stake, to end with a stand-up
fuck.

Your body quivered against
mine as I whispered against your ear.

"Know what, Jenna? I’m
gonna fuck you until you scream. Let’s play upstairs. Anyone can
look in these windows and see what you're doing. I've done it many
times."

I killed the lamps until
the downstairs went dark. I didn't want any leftover goblins
ringing the doorbell and interrupting us. You were going to make
plenty of noise, but it was Halloween. A few screams in the night
were only to be expected.

I snagged the plastic
pumpkin to bring upstairs along with us. Pausing in the upstairs
hallway, I considered the best place to enjoy you.

Hubby’s office? A desk was too
uncomfortable for what I had in mind.

Guest room? The bed was only a
futon.

Bathroom? The lure of the
water might have tempted me in the summer, but it was a little too
cold on a fall night.

At the end of the hall was
the master bedroom, facing the back of the house and overlooking a
huge natural back yard. That would be more private, better for what
I had in mind.

I carried you into the
darkened room and snapped on a bedside lamp, pleased with my
choice. I liked the soft lighting, the simple but expensive
mission-style furniture, the neutral shades of white and wheat. The
only splash of color was the ruby-red quilt on the low, wide bed.
This was the stage where I would take you.