Nine
Scarlett
I wake to pitch black darkness, and I can feel the shadows clawing their way up my throat. The suffocating sensation of the darkness trying to take over, to consume me is a familiar one. It’s always there, lurking, waiting for a moment of weakness to strike. The anxiety is a constant reminder that I’m not in control, that the darkness is always one step ahead, waiting to take over.
Why isn’t there a light on?
I reach for Whit, but the space next to me is empty. I’m alone. Completely alone. Panic grips me and I sit up, frantically searching for him in the dark. “Whit?” I call his name, but there’s no answer—the silence is deafening, suffocating me like a heavy blanket. I’m trapped in a nightmare, the shadows closing in, squeezing the life out of me.
How did I forget to turn on the light last night?
Tears begin flowing down my cheeks. The loneliness, the isolation and the panic threaten to consume me. I’m there again, in that damned closet. I can feel the walls closing in around me. I can’t breathe. The darkness is too thick, too oppressive. It’s a living, breathing thing, and it’s going to devour me. The panic sets in, and I’m frozen in place.
Then, a sudden light floods the room, blinding me for a moment. I squint, trying to make out the figure standing in the doorway, but all I can see is a silhouette. The shadow is tall, imposing, and familiar. The light creates a halo around him, casting an eerie glow across the room.
“Little flame, what’s wrong?” Whit asks, his voice a deep rumble that wraps around me like a warm blanket.
“I-I woke up and it was so dark,” I admit sheepishly as I scoot back to rest against the headboard, seeking comfort from the wall.
Whit strides over, his long legs eating up the distance between us in seconds. He climbs onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He reaches for my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. The touch is comforting, and it grounds me. The darkness recedes slightly, the shadows still lurking but no longer threatening to engulf me.
“Did you have a bad dream?” he asks, his voice laced with concern as he pulls me into his lap, cradling me against his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat soothing my frayed nerves. Whit still has his shirt off, but at some point, he put his boxers back on. I can feel the warmth radiating from him, pushing against the chill of my fear. I shake my head no.
“Where were you?” I ask, my voice small and trembling.
“I thought of some lyrics that I needed to get down on paper before they got lost in my mind,” he replies, glancing down at me with those soft blue eyes that seem to hold the universe’s light. “I’m sorry I left. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Everything was just so dark. I usually have to sleep with a light on but…” I trail off, feeling childish admitting to it.
“Shhh, little flame. I’ve got you now.” His arms tighten around me, cocooning me in warmth. “It’s okay to be afraid. Everyone’s afraid of something.” His words are reassuring but I don’t feel reassured, the shadows still gnawing at my resolve.
“What are you scared of?” I ask, wanting to take the focus off of myself, off my weaknesses—after all, he seemed so invincible to me in that moment.
“Failure,” he says without hesitation, the sincerity clear in his tone. “I’m afraid of failing. Of not being good enough.”
I look up at him, surprised. He seems so confident, so self-assured, and yet he carries that fear within him. Fear that truly humanizes him.
“You’re not scared of the dark?”
He chuckles lightly, the sound breaking the suffocating tension in the air.
“Not really. But the dark scares you, doesn’t it?” His voice softens, filled with understanding.
“Yes,” I admit, my cheeks burning with shame for letting him see my weakness.
“We all have our demons. Our ghosts that haunt us.” His lips brush against my forehead, leaving a warm trail of comfort. “The dark will never hurt you as long as I’m here. I will stand by your side, forever ready to chase away the shadows and help you shine brighter than ever, ensuring that the darkness can never touch you again.”
His words fill me with warmth, and I can feel the tightness in my chest loosening. The panic subsiding. I probably shouldn’t feel this safe in a stranger’s arms, but Whit isn’t a stranger, is he? I feel like our souls have long known each other, scouring the earth to find their twin flame. Now that we’ve found each other, we can be whole. The connection between us is undeniable, even if I don’t fully understand it yet.
Whit pulls my chin up, sealing his lips over mine. His kiss is soft at first—gentle and reassuring—but it quickly deepens, becoming more passionate. I can taste the hunger, the need, the desire. It’s a heady feeling, to be wanted so desperately.
“Tell me what it is about the darkness, baby,” he murmurs against my lips, his breath hot and sweet like molten sugar.
“I’m scared of being alone,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, heart racing with vulnerability. “Of being trapped in the dark with no way out.”
“Did something happen?” He halts kissing down my neck and looks me in the eyes, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but I will always be right here to listen, little flame.”
I want to tell him. I want him to understand. I want him to know every part of me, the good and the bad, the light and the dark. But the words are stuck in my throat, and I can’t seem to get them out.
“My father,” I begin, closing my eyes. I hear his evil laugh echoing through the room, a haunting melody that never fully leaves me. “He was a monster. He would lock me in the closet when I was bad and leave me there for hours, sometimes even days. I was so scared, so alone. I could hear him laughing outside the door, taunting me, telling me I was nothing, that I would never be anything. He made me feel so small, so insignificant. I would cry until I had no more tears left, and I would scream until my voice was hoarse, but he would just keep laughing.”
Whit’s arms tighten around me, pulling me closer. “That motherfucker. I’m so sorry, Scarlett. No one should have to go through that, especially not a child. I want to kill him.”
I can’t help but laugh at his words. It feels almost liberating, the sound echoing in the heavy air between us. “You can’t. He’s already dead, fortunately. He died from liver failure a couple of years ago, because he was a drunk who would never listen to the doctors when they told him to quit.”
“Good. At least he can’t hurt you anymore,” Whit says softly, but I hear the anger simmering just below the surface.
“No, he can’t,” I agree. “But sometimes, when it’s dark and quiet, I can still hear his laughter. I can still feel his presence, looming over me like a dark cloud. I can still feel the fear, the panic, the helplessness.”
Whit’s hand cups my cheek, his thumb gently brushing away the tears that have started to fall. “I know how to make you forget him, at least for a little while.” His voice lowers, almost a seductive murmur, and it makes my heart race. Before I can even process what’s happening, he kisses me again. This time, it’s harder and more urgent, igniting a fire that has been dormant inside me for far too long.
“I need to be inside you, Scarlett, until the only thing you can think about is my cock inside your tight cunt. I want to hear you scream my name until you forget your own,” he groans, his eyes blazing with lust.
His words wrap around my body, igniting every nerve until I feel alive with need. I can feel my body responding to him, my nipples hardening and my core throbbing with anticipation.
Without hesitation, his fingers slip beneath the sheet, pulling it down my legs and exposing me to his hungry gaze. His hand slides up my inner thigh, teasingly approaching my entrance. A soft moan escapes my mouth at the contact, electric pleasure sparking through me.
He’s in control and I’m his willing captive, eagerly surrendering to him fully. He continues to tease me, his fingers expertly working me until I’m whimpering with need, my hips bucking against his hand, searching for more.
“Whit, please,” I beg. Begging for what, I’m not entirely sure—just that I need more. I need him to take me, to make me his in every raw and primal way.
“Please what, little flame?” he asks, his voice low and rough with desire. “Tell me what you want.” His words send a shiver down my spine, and I can feel the wetness between my legs growing. My cheeks flush with heat, and I can feel the heat rising in my chest.
“Touch me more, Whit, please. I need you to touch me.” He obliges, slipping his fingers between my slick folds and cupping my sex. His fingers are long, slender, and deftly know how to push me right to the edge. He strums my clit in slow, deliberate circles, just like he does with his guitar.
“Like that, baby?” he murmurs, his breath hot against my neck. “Do you like it when I touch you like that?”
“Yes,” I moan, arching my back, completely lost in the sensations. My body is alive, demanding more. “More, Whit, please.”
He follows my pulse, adding a third finger and pumping in and out of me as his thumb continues to work my clit, sending waves of pleasure crashing over me.
“So wet for me,” he groans, his eyes smoldering with lust. The breath catches in my throat. I can’t even muster a response; the heat building inside me has rendered me speechless, the pleasure radiating from between my legs demanding attention. “You kept my cum nice and tucked inside here for hours, didn’t you? But your greedy cunt needs to be filled again, doesn’t it?”
All I can do is nod, the urgency of his words igniting a fire in my belly that I can’t ignore. My fingers clench at the sheets, desperate for something to hold on to as waves of heat wash over me. Whit leans closer, his breath ghosting over me, forcing an involuntary whimper from my lips.
“You’re going to make a mess on these sheets, little flame,” he rasps, his tone causing my entire body to shudder in anticipation. Whit’s dark gaze roams my body, devouring every inch of me, making me feel vulnerable yet powerful. “I wish we were in my bed so they’d smell like your pussy for weeks.”
The urgency in his voice sends a thrill through me, heightening my senses even further, every nerve ending awakening to life at his touch. My body aches for more, the need to please him intertwining with my own raw craving for satisfaction.
Suddenly, his tongue dives into my pussy, lapping at my wetness, and a deep moan escapes my lips as shockwaves of pleasure vibrate through my core.
“Fuck,” he groans, as if tasting victory. “I can taste my cum in this cunt. That’s so hot.”
I can only manage to moan his name, the sound breaking high and desperate. “Whit, please.” His relentless fingers and mouth push me closer and closer to the brink, my body alight with need. Sweat glistens on my skin, and my cheeks burn hot as he torments me, bringing me to a fever pitch of need.
“I need you to fuck me, Whit,” I plead; my voice shaky, yet filled with unmistakable desire.
“That’s it, baby,” he growls, his voice dripping with hunger and devotion. The sound vibrates in my core, heightening my desperation. “I’m going to fuck you until you forget everything but my name.”
His fingers slip from my needy folds, and I feel him align the fat head of his cock at my entrance, teasingly pressing against me. I arch my hips up instinctively, trying to take him inside to relieve the unbearable ache but he holds back, his grip firm on my hips, effectively keeping me at the precipice of ecstasy.
“Patience, little flame. We have all night,” he reminds me, a teasing lilt in his voice. My breath quickens, wanting nothing more than to shatter the boundaries of pleasure he has so skillfully crafted.
I squirm beneath him, my body begging for relief. A soft rumble escapes him as he watches me writhe, and I can see the tension in his muscles, the battle he wages against himself.
Time seems to slow as I gaze into his eyes, and beneath the lust, I see something deeper. An intensity that promises not just a night of raging passion, but a connection that goes far beyond something physical.
His fingers dig into my hips, and he leans down, his breath hot on my neck. I can feel the weight of him pressing against me, the hardness of his cock pressing slightly against my pussy. His lips brush against my ear.
“Tell me how much you want it,” he pleads, his voice low and seductive, making my body tremble with desire.
“Tell me who’s pussy this is,” he demands. “Tell me who’s pussy is this, Scarlett.” he repeats, his voice low and demanding. He grinds his hips against me, his cock rubbing against my wetness.
“Tell me,” he demands, his fingers digging into my hips.
“Yours, Whit,” I moan, my voice barely above a whisper.
“You’re damn right it’s mine,” he groans, his voice raw with desire. He pushes into me slowly, filling me inch by inch until he’s buried to the hilt. I gasp at the sensation of being stretched so completely, the pain and pleasure mingling into a heady cocktail that shoots sparks of electricity through my body.
He starts to move, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm, his cock hitting all the right spots. I can feel my climax building immediately, a coiling tension that threatens to snap at any moment.
He leans down, twisting a nipple between his fingers while sucking and biting my neck. The sharp pain sends a jolt of pleasure straight to my clit, making me moan and writhe beneath him.
“Everyone is going to see who you belong to,” he hisses against my skin. “They’re all going to know that I’m the one who makes your pussy gush.” His words are a dark promise, a claim of ownership that sends a shiver down my spine.
He’s relentless, driving into me harder and faster with each thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. I can feel myself getting closer to the edge, my muscles tensing and my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
His lips brush against my ear. “You’re going to take every drop like a good girl, aren’t you?” His words send a shiver of pleasure through me, and I can feel my walls clenching around him. I’m so close, teetering on the edge, just waiting for that final push.
Just before my release hits, he pulls out and throws me onto my stomach like a ragdoll. I feel the head of his cock teasing my pussy lips before he pushes his cock back inside me, gripping my hips and pulling me back onto his thick cock. I moan into the pillow, gripping the sheets.
“This ass is mine too, baby,” he says, giving it a sharp slap. I gasp at the sting, but it quickly turns to pleasure as he continues to pound into me. “It’s mine, and I’m going to take it soon. But not yet. You’re not ready for that yet. I still have to break you in,” he chuckles darkly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my ass.
The words send a thrill of fear and excitement through me, and I can feel myself clenching around him. “Oh god, Whit,” I gasp, my body shaking as he drives into me, his hips slamming against my ass with each thrust.
Whit reaches around and begins to rub circles around my clit with his fingers. I feel my orgasm build higher and higher with each stroke. My pussy begins to squeeze his cock as my climax rushes through me.
“That’s it, baby,” he praises, his voice thick with desire. “Take it. Take it all.” He pounds into me relentlessly, his cock stretching me wide, hitting spots deep inside me that I didn’t even know existed.
Just as I’m about to come, he pulls out again, leaving me gasping and panting on the bed. “Not yet,” he warns, flipping me onto my back and spreading my legs wide. He lines himself up and thrusts back into me, pulling my legs up onto his shoulders. The angle is somehow even deeper and more intense than before. His hips slap against my ass, the sound echoing in the room. He leans down and captures my mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving into my mouth as he fucks me senseless.
One hand slides between our bodies, his thumb rubbing tight circles over my clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. The other hand wraps around my throat, applying pressure, making me feel light headed.
“Do you feel that, baby?” he groans, his voice low and raspy. “Do you feel how hard I am for you? Do you feel my cock inside you, filling you up?”
Why am I not terrified that I could be strangled right now?
Why do I feel safe and protected?
I should be afraid. I should be pushing him away. But instead, I’m pulling him closer, my hips lifting to meet his thrusts, my body craving more, needing more, wanting everything he can give me.
“Tell me you trust me, little flame. I need you to tell me you trust me,” he demands, his voice as smooth as silk yet filled with an undeniable authority.
“I trust you,” I gasp, the words escaping my lips in a hoarse whisper. A wicked grin spreads across his face, and in that moment, I know he enjoys every ounce of power he holds over me.
“Good girl,” he praises, his voice rumbling like distant thunder, sending chills down my spine. His hand tightens around my throat, cutting off my air supply, and I feel panic rise in my chest. My body instinctively fights against his grip but he is relentless, a force of nature I can’t resist.
His thrusts become harder, faster, relentless in their pursuit of raw pleasure. I can feel him driving deep inside me, our bodies connecting with an intensity that feels almost primal. Each stroke sends waves of ecstasy crashing through me, and despite the tight grip he holds on my throat, the fear heightens the sensations, pulling me deeper into a chasm of pleasure.
“Don’t you dare close your eyes, little flame. I want to see you,” he commands, and I feel his smirk against my skin, almost as if he is feeding off my vulnerability.
I fight to keep my vision clear, gasping for breath as the world around me begins to blur. Just when I think I might black out, he releases his grip around my throat. Oxygen floods back into my lungs, and with it comes the tumult of an overwhelming climax that crashes into me. My body shakes with the intensity of it, trembling as pleasure courses through my very being.
“Fuck!” he shouts, his head thrown back, lost in the heat of his own pleasure. His cock pulses inside me, filling me deep as he spills his warmth, riding out his own orgasm with frantic thrusts.
As our bodies begin to calm, he collapses against me, his heat enveloping me in a heavy, warm embrace. I wrap my arms around him, feeling safe yet exhilarated as we catch our breaths together.
“I can feel it dripping out of your pussy,” he remarks, drawing my gaze. I watch, half-embarrassed, half-aroused, as the evidence of our wild encounter trickles down. He rolls onto his back, pulling me with him and I nestle against his broad chest, feeling the rhythmic beat of his heart.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice gentle, a stark contrast to the intensity we just shared.
Yes,” I whisper, my throat still tender from his earlier grip. “That was... intense.”
His fingers caress my skin, tracing lazy patterns that ignite sparks wherever he touches. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn’t want to hurt you. I just needed to show you that you’re mine, that I own you. That I control your orgasms, your life, your everything.”
I squirm at his possessive tone, the way his eyes darken fills me with a mixture of fear and excitement. This man is all about dominance, a force unlike any I have ever encountered before. “I’m okay,” I assure him, pressing my body closer, craving his warmth.
“I trust you,” I finally admit, the words tumbling from my lips, solidifying the bond that is forming between us. His expression softens, and he brushes his lips against mine gently, a tender contrast to what had just transpired.
“I’m glad. I don’t want to scare you away, but I can’t deny the way I feel about you, Scarlett. You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go.” His words are filled with weight and urgency, making my heart race as the gravity of our connection settles between us.
“Mine.” The word echoes in my mind, sending a thrill through me. I have never felt anything like it—both terrifying and exhilarating.
As we lay there, the silence envelops us like a warm blanket, broken only by our slowly returning to normal breaths. I can feel his heart against my cheek, steady and strong, grounding me in this whirlwind of emotions.
“You’re not getting away from me, little flame. I’m keeping you. You’re mine. Forever,” he murmurs into the dark, his grip tightening around me as if he is anchoring me to him.
“You’ve known me for 48 hours and you’ve already decided that?” I laugh softly. “Don’t you think that’s a bit hasty?”
“No,” he says simply, his voice firm and certain. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and I’m not letting you go. You’re mine, and I’m not giving you up.”
I can feel the conviction in his words, the weight of his claim on my heart, and I can’t deny the way it makes me feel. Like I’m precious, like I’m wanted, like I belong.
“But what if I don’t want to be yours?” I ask, needing to hear him say it. Needing to know that he means it.
He shifts, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at me, his eyes dark and intense. “You already are, little flame. You already are.”
I can see the truth in his gaze, the possessiveness in his touch, and I know that there’s no escaping him. Not that I want to.
“What about your music? Your career?” I ask, my voice soft and hesitant. “You just got a record deal tonight!”
“You’re coming with me. You’re not leaving my sight. Ever .” His words are a promise, a vow, and I can feel the weight of them settling in my bones.
“And what about my career? My life?” I ask, needing to know where I stand, where we stand.
He cups my cheek, his thumb stroking my skin tenderly. “You’re more important than anything, little flame. I’ll make sure you have everything you need, everything you want.” Warning bells are ringing in my mind. This is crazy. This is too much, too fast. But I can’t deny the way he makes me feel, the way my heart races when he’s near, the way my body responds to his touch. Call it daddy issues because I don’t have a father or a bad boy romance trope that I’m a sucker for, but I’m drawn to him. Pulled in by his intensity, his darkness, his need for me. I’ve never been wanted, and it’s addicting to finally be in someone’s orbit. I can’t resist him, even if I wanted to. He’s like a drug, and I’m already addicted. I know I should run, but I find myself agreeing instead.
“Okay,” I breathe, my voice barely audible.
“Okay,” he repeats, his lips capturing mine in a searing kiss, branding me as his.
Maybe it’s the shitty month I’ve had or the fact that in a few months, I won’t be walking across that stage to get my hard earned degree.
Or maybe I’m just desperate and lonely, but I’ve already jumped off the cliff into the abyss. Whatever it is, this new toxic addiction to Whit is going to consume me whole and there may be no saving me.
What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, right?