Chapter 27 #3
I continue dancing, swaying side to side as I sing the lyrics in my mind.
The music flows over my sweat-slick body like a warm breeze, and soon the alcohol begins working its magic, numbing me to harsh realities.
This is the freest I’ve felt in months. It’s all an illusion, but it’ll have to do.
Sandman may not come to the party, but he’ll be waiting for me at home.
He’s always around, never giving me a moment’s peace.
I push him from my thoughts and glance over at Leah. I smile, seeing a cute boy talking in her ear. She laughs, and on cue, he scoots closer to her, placing a hand on her thigh. I roll my eyes at the blatant move. It’s the oldest trick in the horny teenage boy playbook.
Snake appears out of thin air and kicks the boy in the chest, sending him crashing to the dirt floor. I drop my cup, watching in horror as he yanks my screaming friend up by her ponytail. He slams her into the wall and pins her wrists high above her head.
I search the crowd for Sandman. Where is he?
Maybe the dark prince is solo tonight. Leah’s would-be suitor springs to his feet and bounds in their direction, but stops in his tracks.
I assume he notices the insignia on the back of Snake’s cut.
He immediately changes course and hightails it out of here.
He knows who the Gods are, and he knows not to fuck with one.
I remain rooted to the spot, unsure what to do. Leah made it clear not to interfere when it comes to Snake. Meela will know what to do.
A steel arm bands around my waist before I can take a step. “Mind your fucking business.”
The devil has arrived. Fear stalls my breath as I helplessly watch Snake drag Leah from the barn. I send up a silent prayer because only divine intervention can save us now. Sandman sweeps my passion twists over my shoulder and places a soft kiss just below my ear.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he growls, sliding his free hand between my legs. “The same three thoughts cycle in my mind twenty-four-seven. Do you want to know what those thoughts are?”
I nod, though my mind screams no. It doesn’t matter what my response is; he’s going to tell me regardless. To do otherwise would deprive him of his greatest pleasure—invoking the most fear.
“I imagine the tight sweetness between your thighs soaking every inch of my dick,” he murmurs, kneading my clit through my clothing.
“Don’t,” I whisper, latching one hand onto the arm circling my belly and the other on the wrist pressed against my pubic bone.
My mind immediately goes back to the night he took me to God’s Glory.
Is he planning to do the same thing here?
At least half of my classmates are at this party.
I won’t be able to show my face at school again.
“One day soon, I’m going to pop that beautiful cherry, Zilphia, and pump your body full of cum.
Then there’s making you hurt.” I gasp, feeling his length growing against my ass.
“Nothing gets my cock harder. But what I think about more than anything else is cutting this soft, beautiful skin of yours.” He rubs his nose along my neck.
“The sight of your blood does something to me. You do something to me,” he rasps accusingly, his voice tortured and thick with emotion.
“I’m so sorry, Sam,” I sob, hating that I’m the cause of his anguish. “I was stupid and scared. I wish I could take it all back.”
“I warned you never to call me that,” he barks, winding his hard fingers into my passion twists.
I lean into his strong body, attempting to relieve the stress on my scalp. “Sandman—”
“Shut the fuck up,” he snarls, tightening his grip in my hair.
Pained tears sting my corneas as he forces me through the crowd ahead of him.
I slam my eyelids shut against the shocked faces, humiliation heating my cheeks.
The mild night air enveloping my slightly damp skin alerts me that we’re outside.
Still, I keep my vision shrouded in darkness, hearing animated conversations echo around me.
Once the voices and music fade to the background, I crack my eyes open and see that he’s steering me toward the farmhouse. I climb the creaking steps and find the front door ajar. A loud cry startles me, and I halt in my tracks. There are people here.
“Move!” Sandman shouts, releasing my hair and shoving me inside.
I crash to my hands and knees on the dusty floor. A musky odor immediately clogs my nostrils and throat, sending me into a coughing fit. I’m no expert, but I doubt it’s safe to be in here. It’s highly probable this house is infested with mold.
My gaze roams the four corners of the living room, only finding a lone recliner positioned adjacent to the fireplace. The door closes behind me, cutting off the little light the moon provided.
I retrieve my inhaler from my fanny pack and spray two doses into my mouth before pushing to shaky legs. “Why did you bring me in here?”
“Don’t talk, Zilphia,” he rasps softly, standing so close behind me his warm breath fans my nape. “It’s not safe for you to talk.”
I snap my mouth shut and stand stock-still, afraid to even breathe.
Uncontrolled energy radiates from his body in waves, pouring into me like an electric pulse.
I apprehensively wait for his next move, but long moments pass and nothing.
I want to shout at him, tell him to get it over with, to stop playing his fucking mind games with me. Instead, I close my eyes and count.
One, two, three, four—
“No!” Leah’s terrified scream echoes from upstairs, followed by heavy footsteps and a loud bang. I strain to listen for more sounds of her attack, but silence greets me.
Christ. What is Snake doing to her?
Before I realize what’s happening, my face smacks into the wall.
I whimper as the metallic taste of blood melts on my tongue.
Sandman tears at my jeans, roughly yanking the tight denim down my legs along with my thong.
I hold my breath, bracing for the feel of his thick length pushing between my ass cheeks.
“Turn around,” he orders.
I should be relieved, but this means he has far worse in store for me. I face him in a daze, head whirling from the violent impact. He’s a shadow in the dark living room, mirroring a ghostly apparition.
For all intents and purposes, that’s exactly what he is, a restless spirit hellbent on taking over my soul. My tormentor says nothing; he just stands there, several inches separating us. Though his features are an obsidian void, I swear I feel his hot gaze burning a hole into the very core of me.
I plaster myself tight against the crumbling wall when he makes a sudden movement, my breath lodged in my throat. A small flame washes his beautiful face in an orange glow as he lights a joint.
This is all wrong.
The devil shouldn’t look this good. The devil shouldn’t look like a golden god.
I stare at his hard angles in wonderment, completely baffled that someone with a heart as black as his could be so handsome.
He takes a long hit, then exhales, filling the short distance between us with the distinct smell of cannabis.
“Smoke,” he demands, nudging the joint against my lips.
I turn my head. “I-I d-don’t d-do d-drugs.”
“You’re a fucking puppet, Zilphia,” Sandman states, his tone hushed and menacing. “And I’m your puppeteer. I control your strings. You don’t question. You don’t talk back. You obey. Now fucking smoke.”
I hesitantly inhale the pungent herb into my lungs and immediately spiral into a coughing frenzy.
“This that A1 shit,” he rumbles, clamping a calloused hand around my jaw. “You gotta take your time with it.”
Sandman forces me to take hit after hit, initiating level one of tonight’s ongoing mindfuck saga. The earthy fumes settle like hot ash in my throat, and soon my body becomes weightless.
“Please, no more,” I plead with him.
“More is what I crave from you. More is what I need from you. And more is what I’ll have from you, come hell or high water.”
The next thing I know, his lips are on mine, his tongue hungrily exploring the depths of my mouth.
This kiss is wholly different from the tender kiss we shared in my tree house a little over three years ago.
It’s wildfire in a field of daisies, the sweetest dream trapped inside a nightmare, and hell in the middle of paradise.
Sandman detests my very existence; even so, he wants me with a desperation that defies reason. His urgency bleeds into me, wrapping phantom hands around my neck and squeezing tight. It must drive him crazy to desire that which he hates most in the world.
He jerks away from me, a frightening roar spilling from his lips. “I swear to God, Zilphia, cross me again and I’ll break you like a fucking twig.”
“If you want me dead so bad, then do it,” I snap, blinking back the hot tears swimming in my gaze. “Torture me, blow my brains out. Just be done with it.”
“Eager to die, are we?” Sandman slips a hand between my thighs. “Not until I’ve had my fill of this,” he states huskily, his hands lightly caressing my clit. “After all, I lost my hearing because of it.”
I will my body not to respond, but my determination is shit against his skilled fingers. I curl my hands into fists, disgusted that my pussy is wet and aching for him.
Sandman sinks to his knees and places a lingering kiss on my special place, then bestows the same attention to both thighs, his lips firm and reverent on my warm skin.
“Why can’t I stop wanting you?” he murmurs.
It’s an answer I’d like to know as well.
There’s nothing extraordinary about me. I just showed kindness to a boy, and that boy fell in love.
It’s a love I betrayed. Sam wouldn’t be Sandman if it wasn’t for me.
How many people would still be alive if he never became Sandman, the Blood God?
In retrospect, I’m just as responsible for their deaths as he is.
I ball my fists tighter, digging sharp fingernails into my palms as his tongue explores every inch of my throbbing slit.
The pot coursing through my bloodstream heightens my senses, invoking a passion so ravenous it frightens me.
I’ve heard all about the wonders of high sex but never thought I would experience it firsthand.
“No,” I breathe, my legs trembling uncontrollably. I need to get away from him before he traps me in his twisted world forever.
Sandman pulls back and indulges in more weed, then angles his mouth over my opening, blowing the pungent smoke into my slick channel.
“Yes,” he growls before burying his face in my folds.
My impassioned moans reverberate through the living room as he greedily sucks my pussy. I undulate against his mouth, my hands knotting in his golden strands. He eats me, then smokes. Eats me, then smokes some more—repeating the ritual again and again.
The steady pulse at my center slowly grows into a pounding throb. Then my orgasm comes full throttle, the pleasure so intense my belly clenches violently, trapping the oxygen in my lungs, every cell in my body on fire.
“Oh God,” I gasp.
Euphoria quickly turns into anguish as Sandman grinds the smoldering tip of his joint into my clit.
I scream and try to run away, but topple to the dusty wooden floor, hindered by the cotton tangled around my ankles.
Iron fingers dig into my hips and jerk me to my knees, then I feel his hardness probing my wet entrance.
“Sandman, please don’t do this,” I beg as tears drip from my eyes. “You loved me at one time.”
“And that love came with a heavy price.” He seizes my passion twists and slams my head onto the floor. “Arch your fucking back.”
Dust mites float all around me as he inches forward the slightest bit, inserting the head of his dick into my pussy.
This is it. I’m going to lose my virginity inside this dirty, lifeless house.
I hold my breath, bracing for the sting of full penetration—but it never comes.
He moves in and out of me with just his swollen tip.
It was never his plan to take my virginity tonight.
Psychological torment was his goal all along.
Before long, my mind will become a bleak ruin, much like these four walls.
I try to pretend I’m not me, that this isn’t my life, but his pleasured groans mock me as he takes what was not freely given.
I feel him trembling behind me, his control barely hanging on by a thread.
“I’m almost there.” His fingers tighten painfully on my hips. “Just a little more. Oh fuck, there it is,” he grunts, pumping his release into me. “Fuck, Zilphia.”
It’s over. Thank God.
I let out a relieved breath, but then he drives his erection into my ass. I scream so loud it feels like my eardrums are about to burst. He thrusts again and again until his erection is fully embedded inside my snug muscles. My hands and knees give out as he pistons into my shuddering body.
All I can do is cry and pray that it’s over soon.