Hunting Adeline (Cat and Mouse, #2)

by H.D. Carlton

She stares at me for a beat, and then her face cracks, and a full-blown grin stretches her lips. Fuck. I’m so in love with her.

“At least you’ll end up marrying a rich man,” I comment. She pins me with a dry look. “Now I can never marry you. It’s my life’s purpose to disappoint her in every decision I make.” I arch a brow. “Don’t underestimate me, Addie. I’ll become a poor man for you.”

“Meadows, baby. Our last name is Meadows.”

“The best thing you can do is keep living that life, little mouse. Continue being a successful author who loves horror movies and haunted fairs. Who loves her Nana and the gothic mansion she inherited and finds a thrill out of the ghosts that walk the halls. You’ve always been unapologetically you.”

She wrinkles her nose as if she’s disgusted. “So, you’re wise and shit, too?” She scoffs, a sound of abhorrence, though there’s a faint glimmer in her eye. “Despicable. What are you bad at?”

“I’m very bad at lots of things. And I hear that practice makes perfect.”

But nothing's perfect so why practice?

We both know she’s laughing, too, but she just isn’t ready to admit it yet. That’s okay. I’ve got nothing but time.

“Your pussy is a delicacy, baby, and I could eat it forever and never grow tired of the taste of you.

I glance around, trying to locate where my heart fell out of my ass.

“My entire world revolves around you. If you want mint chocolate chip, then that’s what I want, too,” he had said. “Do you even like it?” “I like you, does that count?” “No.”

“You believe that?” I ask, facing him. “That happiness is fleeting?” He shrugs, tossing the last bite of his cone into his mouth, and chews as he contemplates something. “Absolutely,” he says finally. “It’s not something solid you can hold on to. It’s vapor in the wind, and all you can do is inhale it when it’s near and hope it comes around again when it blows away.”

This happiness may be fleeting, but I’ve never been surer that it’ll be back.

There’s a part of me that still clings to that hate, but it’s weakening. He kidnapped me. Ruthlessly fed me to the wolves and stood by while faceless men repeatedly broke me. Yet, he picked up the pieces afterward. Gathered them in his hands and carried them to my room, where he meticulously placed them back together—as janky as it was.

I want to hate him. But I don't know that I do.

“You’re here. Why are you here? Did you need something?” “Just you, little mouse.”

“You’re brave. Incredibly brave, and a goddamn survivor, and it’s admirable as fuck. You have no idea how proud of you I am. But you’re also impulsive, and reactive, and I refuse to lose you again, do you hear me? I won’t. Which means that you have to listen to me, and you cannot go off and do your own thing because you think you’re helping. We’re a team, baby. Got it?”

I love a Dom in a non-sexual situation *panting*

I’d say he looks like a cute puppy, but that would be a lie. He looks like a vicious beast that’s been locked up too long and is ravenous. For me, in particular.

“You make it sound so easy to just be… bad.” “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“It’s because I love you, Adeline Reilly. And I know you love me back. When I’m inside you, you won’t be thinking of anything else but how to get me deeper. The only fear you’ll taste is from a God sending you to heaven too soon.”

The type of pain Zade delivers is unorthodox, and while there’s always been a part of me that enjoys it—it still hurts. Yet, I crave it anyway.

“Maybe I should just become a nun,” I announce, causing Daya to pause mid-pour.

Zade asks, adding extra shredded cheddar on the mac ‘n’ cheese before sticking the casserole dish back in the oven to crisp. Seeing him doing something so domestic is… odd.

Awe me cheesy boi

now all I can imagine is Zade in nothing but an apron. That… shouldn't be enticing, yet it is.

O.O YES PLEASE

“You really want to cause mass extinction for those names? Moan them, little mouse, I dare you. Whichever ones you choose, not a single man by that name will fucking exist anymore. How about we start with Chad? We can definitely live without the Chads in the world.”

Sibby is still skipping down 5th Avenue, earning looks ranging from I see this shit every day to I’m so tired of seeing this shit every day.

“If I wanted your clothes off, I would just remove them myself.”

She flushes brightly, red staining her cheeks as she shifts, those thick thighs clenching. My cock hardens painfully in my jeans, picturing them wrapped around my head instead. She likes to try and suffocate me between them, but I would gladly die between her thighs.

She’s so goddamn beautiful, it hurts. Especially when she’s angry.

“I go take a shit for five minutes, and you’re in a high-speed car chase when I come back,”

The water ate the sun, and I wonder if she’ll let me devour her, too.

“Closer, little mouse,” I whisper. “I need to feel if you’re real, and not just another ghost haunting Parsons Manor.”

At that moment, I decide she can’t be real, and that I’ve gone mad just like the little doll who used to haunt the inside of the walls.

I’m ready to set this entire car on fire, content with watching it burn around us if it means I can stare at her beneath the blazing glow.

“Am I tangible, or will you let me slip through your fingers like the smoke from this cigarette?” she asks, her voice raspy. Every single nerve ending lights up from how sensual she sounds.

“Our mouths are touching the same spot,” she says shakily. “Does that count as kissing?” “You tell me, little mouse. When I make you cry out for God, does that count as praying?”

deep down in that dark part of me, I hope she’s suffering from the loss of me as much as I am her.

Desperation is more potent than a bullet wound to the knee. If the government could bottle that particular emotion, they could create an army of superhumans. It’s the driving force that creates extraordinary abilities.

It’s a very mind your own fucking business type of neighborhood. Perfect place to commit homicide. Weather’s nice, too.

“Z, are you playing with your food again?”

The knife is duller than a grandma’s sex life,

Having Zade’s love feels like a dream, but having his trust and confidence feels like a dream come true.

Most days, I still struggle with looking in the mirror and seeing something beautiful like I used to. Not because of how I look, but how I feel.

“Don’t forget these,” he says, holding up the knife and lacy strap. “You’re not going unprotected.”

I have a feeling he can smell me now, and just how much my body weeps for him.

“Now watch yourself. Look how pretty you are when you fuck yourself.”

"Without you, I will shatter. But with you, I am indestructible."

I'M INDESTRUCTIB-AAAAAAHHHHLLLLLLEEEEEE!!!!

Zade’s hold tightens painfully, trembles racking his body as he clings to me. He stuffs his face in my neck and he just… listens. Listens to his heart breaking inside my chest.

</3 :'( me poor Addie

“Do you know how hard my cock gets when I think about all the ways I’m going to slowly torture the men that hurt you?”

It should repulse me. But it doesn’t. And I clutch ahold of that feeling while it’s there. I don’t care if it’s fucked up, it feels so much better than the constant agony.

He looks so goddamn savage, and I think my ovaries are exploding.