I imagine finding him in some dark corner of the maze, that carefully constructed facade finally crumbling as I bend him over and show him exactly what he’s been missing. The thought sends heat coursing through my veins.
He wants it. That much is crystal clear from the way he took my cock down his throat, from the way he leaked all over the floor just from the act of servicing me. Beneath all that denial and self-loathing is a perfect little cock slut waiting to be claimed.
And I’m going to be the one to claim him.
7
ELLIOT
My composed walk dissolves into a desperate sprint. My heart pounds against my ribs as I tear through the dimly lit corridors of the maze, each breath burning in my lungs. I don’t care who sees me now—the cool, collected art dealer is gone, replaced by a man running for his life.
But I’m not running from Julian. I realize that, regardless of each emphatic denial, I’m actually running from myself.
My cock strains painfully against my pants with each stride, a persistent reminder of what just happened, of what I did. Of how much I fucking enjoyed it. The taste of him lingers on my tongue, and the memory sends another jolt of arousal through me that nearly makes me stumble.
“Fuck,” I hiss, ducking into a narrow corridor and pressing my back against the wall. I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing, but all I see is Julian’s face, that predatory smile, those knowing eyes that seem to cut right through every defense I’ve spent decades building.
He’s gorgeous. There’s no point denying that anymore. Julian Frost is everything I pretend not to want—powerful, commanding, uncompromising. His cock was so exquisite, sothick, stretching my lips, and the thought of it elsewhere makes me throb with need.
I slide down the wall until I’m crouching, head in my hands. The truth crashes over me like a wave: I want to be fucked. I want Julian to find me, to force me to my knees again, to bend me over and take what I’ve never given anyone. I want him to tear down every wall I’ve built since I was a teen and my mother caught me looking too long at a boy I had a crush on, since I learned to hate this part of myself.
I want someone to pull me out of this hole I’ve been digging my entire life.
The realization doesn’t bring relief. It brings terror. What would it mean to stop running? To let myself be caught—not just by Julian, but by the truth?
My body and mind are at war, one begging to be found, the other desperate to maintain the life I’ve constructed. I push myself to my feet, still hard, still wanting, still afraid.
A harsh electronic beep cuts through my panic. My watch display flashes with the notification I’ve been dreading: “HUNT COMPLETE. ALL PREY CAPTURED.”
My dick twitches traitorously against my thigh. The message is clear—there are no more women to find, no more convenient shields to hide behind. No female body I can place between myself and Julian to pretend this is something else. Something normal. Something my mother wouldn’t have called disgusting.
I slide back down the wall until I’m sitting on the cold floor, my mask in my hands. I’ve dated women, taken them to dinner, even to bed. I’ve performed the role so well that I almost convinced myself. But in quiet moments, alone in my shower or lying awake at night, it was always men I saw. Always hard bodies and rough hands that I craved.
“You’re not one of those perverts, are you, Elliot?”
Mom’s voice echoes in my head, sharp as the day I was thirteen and she caught me staring at Michael Peterson changing after swim practice. The disgust in her eyes. The way she made me go to church every day for a month, like she could pray the sin out of me.
I press the heels of my hands against my eyes until I see stars. All these years of suffocating who I am, of building a gallery and a reputation and friendships on a foundation of lies. Of watching men like Theo live openly while I shrink into shadows, terrified someone might see the truth.
And now Julian has torn it all down.
My cock is still hard. That’s the most damning evidence of all—even now, hunted and exposed, I want him. I’ve always wanted this. Wanted men. Wanted to be taken and claimed and freed from this prison I’ve built around myself.
I hear footsteps in the distance, measured and unhurried. Julian, taking his time. Savoring the hunt.
A part of me—the real me, the one I’ve buried for so long—wants to stop running.
I push myself to my feet and start running again. The maze of Purgatory stretches before me like a physical manifestation of my own tangled psyche—dark, twisting with no clear way out. But I can’t stop. I can’t let Julian catch me. Not yet.
My mother’s voice still echoes in my head as my feet pound against the floor. What would she think if she saw me now? What would my clients say? The respectable art dealer on his knees for another man?
I turn a corner sharply, breathing hard, and freeze. The corridor opens into a small chamber, and I’m not alone.
Cora Pike kneels in the center of the room, surrounded by three men—Dominic, Ryder, and Liam. Her lips are wrapped around Dominic’s cock while her hands work on the other two men. They haven’t noticed me yet, too absorbed in their prize.
I should leave. I should turn around and find another path. But I can’t move.
My eyes lock onto their cocks—thick, hard, magnificent. Dominic disappears between Cora’s lips as she takes him deeper. Ryder’s is slightly curved, the head glistening with pre-cum as she strokes him. Liam’s is longer than the others, veined and powerful in her other hand.
