CHAPTER 24 #2
She hesitates, her body rigid with distrust, but the cold air is relentless and forces her forward inch by inch, until her back presses against my chest. I wrap my coat around her, enclosing her in its warmth, the barrier between us both comforting and maddening.
I want to touch her. It’s fucking killing me not to be able to.
I lean in, close enough that my breath brushes against the shell of her ear.
She stiffens instantly, her body taut like a coiled spring ready to snap.
I pause, letting the moment stretch, letting her feel my cock harden against her sweet arse.
There’s power between us, in the way her breath catches, the way her pulse races beneath the surface of her skin.
I can see it, throbbing at the side of her neck.
Her fear is almost tangible. I smile, again, not out of malice but because fear is… honest .
‘Do I scare you, Tarran?’
Her lips part, but her answer comes too quickly, too sharp to be genuine. ‘No!’
But she’s lying. My little lamb is a liar.
‘You’re lying!’
‘Let me out of here,’ she squirms, but I hold her, trapped inside my coat. Her posture shifts slightly away from me as if the small distance can shield her from the truth she doesn’t want to face.
‘Fuck you, let me go!’ she seethes.
‘Fuck me? I was getting ‘round to that. ’
She gasps, ‘You’re a cold-hearted bastard!’
‘Probably, but cast aside those rose-tinted spectacles of yours. They won’t shield you from the truth, Tarran. You’ve been bound to my cock and my cold, black heart since the very moment I laid eyes on you, and there you shall remain, caged and claimed, forever mine.’
‘You can’t make me,’ she spits, her words like shattered glass. I let out a low, velvety chuckle and stroke my jaw. ‘You poor, naive thing,’ I purr. ‘It’s not about making you. It’s about inevitability. And what I want is always mine before you realise it was even yours to give.’
It’s the way her voice falters, betraying her bravado she’s desperately trying to cling on to. Fear doesn’t lie. People do. It’s a language all on its own, and Tarran speaks it fluently.
‘I’m not lying!’
I reach down, my hand sliding between her legs. ‘Then why are you so wet?’ I ask, her body instantly stiffening,
‘Natural reaction.’
I whisper in her ear. ‘You’re wet ‘cause you know who I am.’ My lips stroke the shell of her ear as I continue, ‘I told you to run, little lamb.’
Her breath catches, and then she gasps. ‘Angel?’ A single word escaping her lips, more like a plea than a question.
Did my name have the power to save her or damn her?
‘Angel Gabriel,’ I correct.
Anger surges as her breathing comes in short, rapid pants. ‘All this time?’ she seethes, the words trembling with barely contained fury. ‘I grieved for you! I thought you had died.’
She turns, and the anger in her chest falters, her voice carrying a weight I’m not prepared for.
Pain.
She grieved for me? Interesting.
‘You...you’re the boy with the face of an angel?’ she asks, a single tear sliding down her face. I hold her jaw in my hand, twisting it to the side as I lick the droplet off her skin. ‘If you say so. You’re shivering.’
‘Don’t deflect!’
‘There are more pressing matters than who I am, or used to be. You’re shivering…’
‘Maybe, because I’m trapped here with you and you’re a twisted fuck.’
I laugh, a twisted fuck I am, among other things, but she’s shivering for other reasons.
‘You’re a liar, little lamb,’ I twist her body to face away from me, and force her legs to part. I slide my right hand under the elastic of her underwear, my fingers tracing the entrance to her pussy.
‘Do you know how I know you’re a liar, Tarran? I know because you’re wet. I told you, it’s your pussy I want to make weep, not your eyes.’
She mutters under her breath, as my other hand rests on her left breast feeling her heart pulse.
It’s strong.
‘This should raise your body temperature,’ I growl, rubbing her clit in slow ministrations.
‘Tell me, Tarran, is it the fear of dying that gets your pussy throbbing? The very thing people instinctively avoid – danger, vulnerability, and the unknown? Is it the reasons people seek out fear, albeit safely from the confines of our homes, like watching a horror film? Or is it the thrill, like a rollercoaster or a haunted house that gets your pulse pumping?’
‘No, not quite,’ she whispers in a breathless mewl.
My eyes roll as I rest the side of my cheek against hers. ‘Then what is it?’ I reply, blowing hot air onto her skin as I continue to massage her pussy, her body slowly relaxing against mine. ‘Tell me.’
‘It’s the adrenaline that reminds me I’m alive.’
‘The way your heart pounds against your chest?’ I whisper.
‘Yes...’ she moans.
‘Knowing that you’re not in control of life?’
‘Yes...’
‘Then fear is your catharsis.’
My middle finger plunges inside her, and her head tilts back, my nose sinking into the soft, fragrant tendrils of her hair. I’m enveloped in the warmth of her presence.
‘Gabriel?’ she pleads.
‘Shush...’ I inhale.
‘I-I can’t...’
‘But you will. You’ll do exactly as you’re told. I’ll infest the recesses of your thoughts, I’m a shadow that festers and grows, until you surrender to the void that is me – the darkness. You cannot escape the darkness that wants to swallow you whole.’
Her juices gather on my fingers as they dip in and out of her. I feel her going weak at the knees.
‘J-Jesus, Fucking, Christ...’ she groans.
I withdraw my hand, sucking my fingers dry, lapping up her juices.
‘No... You bastard,’ she seethes.
‘Jesus Christ has no business here. That will be the last time you call out to him . Get on your knees.’
Tears prick at her eyes once more.
She’s so fucking beautiful .
‘Do you want me to force you?’
‘You can’t make me do anything,’ she hisses.
I snatch her hands, clasping them together in my one hand as I pull her towards me.
‘Don’t be so sure of that. I don’t want to physically.
..’ I say, wrapping her hair around my other hand, ‘but I have my ways. However, I know what it is you want, and you don’t fucking deserve it. ’
‘Deserve it?’
‘Damn right. Your mouth got you into this, now your mouth can get you out of it. On your knees.’
‘Who the fuck do you think you are?’ she growls through gritted teeth.
That’s got her going.
‘Angel Gabriel, your fucking saviour – thrice, might I add! Look at you, you’re like a bitch in heat, you just don’t know it yet.’
I love it when she’s angry.
Frustration mounts, and she’s lunging towards me, her tongue forcefully penetrating my mouth.
‘Now, spread your legs, Tarran.’
She wants to be punished, and punishment is my middle name.