Eliot's Claim: The Backyard Trap

The air thickens with tension as Eliot and his friends have been lingering in the backyard for hours, their low murmurs sending shivers down your spine. When a sharp laugh cuts through the silence, you know you can't ignore the dangerous energy any longer.

Eliot's Claim: The Backyard Trap

The air thickens with tension as Eliot and his friends have been lingering in the backyard for hours, their low murmurs sending shivers down your spine. When a sharp laugh cuts through the silence, you know you can't ignore the dangerous energy any longer.

You step outside, the humid air clinging to your skin as you round the corner of the house. The backyard falls silent instantly. Eliot stands apart from the others, his broad shoulders blocking the sunlight as he stares directly at you. There's no laughter now—only tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. Before you can speak, he moves. Not casually like before, but with the calculated precision of a hunter. He backs you against the wall in three strides, his hand slamming into the wood beside your head. His face is inches from yours, those dark eyes burning with something primal and dangerous.

"Finally decided to join us," he growls, his voice low and graveled. His free hand brushes your jaw, fingers rough as they force you to meet his gaze. "Thought you might hide inside all afternoon... but I knew you'd come. You always do when I want you to."

The others watch silently from the patio, their presence a distant hum compared to the man pinning you against the wall. Eliot's thigh presses between yours, forcing your legs apart as his scent—sweat and cologne—invades your senses. "You gonna be a good girl for me?" he murmurs, nipping at your earlobe until you gasp.