34
A seductive siren. Nah, I won't fall for her tricks. Her once shiny blonde hair is now stained and caked with grime. Her milky glowing skin is dirty and tarnished. It should be easy to dispose of her. She means nothing. A worthless, broken doll, one I use for my own selfish needs. That's it.
Even as the words echo through my psyche, I know I'm full of shit.
She's hollow and empty, so fragile and breakable and I cling to it like a lifeline.
I want to watch the pieces of her shatter at my feet.
Her vacant expression peers into my soul, attempting to unlock my inner sanctum.
I hate how she crawls under my skin. I advance on her.
She rears back, flitching. I thread my fingers through her loose strands, almost tenderly.
All an illusion. I wrench her forward and force her lips on mine.
I'm not gentle. Fuck, I don’t even like kissing, but her lips are sin, sorrow, and darkness wrapped into a Goddamn bow.
I massage her tongue with my piercing, then she bites me.
So vicious.
I grunt, refusing to relent. The tang of my blood mixes with her saliva.
Her long nails dig into my shoulder. I kiss her harder, punishing her, punishing myself.
Her salty tears crush against my cheek. I pull back, breathless.
Blood coats her mouth, lips and tongue like a damn crime scene.
Her eyes are puffy, swollen, and red. Those sinful ocean depths are calling out for mercy.
Nah, sorry baby. You'll get none from me. I focus on her
destruction and downfall. Gotta keep my head on straight.
I undo my belt. The metal clanks in the echoing chamber. Her eyes flash to mine. I smirk, baring my bloody teeth like a cruel bastard.
“Get ready for it, Nightshade. Gentle isn't in my vocabulary.”
She grimaces. “You're fucked up. You need help.” She inches to
her feet. I unzip my jeans. A dark rumbling timbre leaves my throat. “You’ve got no idea.” A flicker of afternoon sunlight shimmers
over her face before clouded umbral darkness shrouds the room.
The sun falls behind gray clouds, casting us in somberness.
“I won’t fuck you,” she spits venom.
I chuckle. My fingers thread through my curls.
She's a horrible liar. “As if you have a choice. Your destruction is my salvation.”
I lick my lips, tasting our mixed fluids.
If I want to fuck her, nothing is stopping me.
Nah, I want her to beg for me. She needs me the same way I need her.
We're a volatile mix together, but no less addicting.
Her chest undulates and her pupils dilate. Her pulse races and the sweet scent of her arousal fills the air. Even through the metallic darkness, I see her.
I titter, breathing her in. “You're such a needy thing.” I emphasize each word through my teeth.
My dark hunger takes over, and I knock her to her knees again.
I should do what I came to do. Return her to the Void and let them break her down, except the urge to use her like a savage beast takes over.
She's my plaything. The idea of sharing her with those deranged mother fuckers lights a fire within me.
Like you're any better, Kieran. Worse, in fact.
Her pouty lips part. Her eyes beg to be fucked. That scowl does a shit job of hiding her true desires.
I free my cock. Pre-cum already pools at the tip. I'm throbbing and horny as hell. It pisses me off that my body reacts to her this way. No one else has been able to measure up.
“You bit me. Now, you need to be punished. You want my blood so bad, ya?” I stick my hand in my pocket. My hand runs along my lighter. The desire to burn her is almost too much to bear.
Soon.
I fumble around for a broken shard of glass instead. Another tool of the trade when you enjoy pain. Another way to control situations. That's why torture was the method of choice up until the 1900s, before it was deemed inhumane. I say effective.
I sweep the sharp, jagged edge along my palm.
I hiss, letting my head draw back in self-gratification.
Red pools to the surface of my skin instantly.
My hand flexes a few times to help it flow through my veins.
I let it drip onto my weeping cock. A thick bead of pre-cum settles on the tip.
Little red dots paint my girthy shaft. Clara looks upon me in sharded dread .
. . and something else I can't quite make out.
She knows how deep my depravity runs . .
. or maybe she doesn't. I smirk at that.
“Lick me clean.”
She stares for a moment in disbelief, blinking. The gears turn in her head. The beast always wins, sweetheart.
“Awww, too stunned to speak?” I tilt my head mocking her, still letting the blood flow freely from my palm.
It drips to the stone floor below. My cock is painfully hard.
My patience isn't finite. If she doesn't willingly take me in her mouth, I'll take her by force.
It makes no difference to me. But she takes me by surprise and scoots forward hesitantly.
On the outside, she's cool and collected.
Under the surface she's waging war within herself, figuring out her purpose.
Her purpose is whatever the hell I say it is.
She's my keystone, preventing total collapse of my sanity for the moment.
My cock twitches in anticipation. Her lips part slowly, her blue eyes linger on my dick.
Goddamn. Such a seductive siren. I trace my finger over her cracked, dry lips.
I raise my arm. Blood beads along my palm.
I smear it across her mouth and cheeks painting her deep red velvet.
A stark contrast against her blonde mane. She looks like a riven queen.
She opens wide. Her tongue darts out to lap up the bead of cum pooled on the tip of my cock.
I growl. She bobs her head up and down, taking me whole without protest.
“Oh, fuckkkkk,” I hiss out. My hands instantly thread through my curls, coating them in blood.
I tug on the ends as if that'll satisfy the need coursing through me.
My legs threaten to buckle. It takes every ounce of self-control not to throat fuck her violently.
Shit, my entire being begs me to bend her over onto the cold stone and ravage her like the beast I am.
I feel like I'm losing touch with myself.
This bitch has such a hold on me. I gotta cut that shit off immediately.
I look down into her eyes. An endless void, but that just makes shit worse.
That dirty mouth of hers is coated in my blood.
I just wanna watch her drown in it. Her glassy-eyed stare mirrors my own.
Fuck this feeling, vulnerability. Nah, not doing that . . .
She's trying to mask her inner turmoil. I want it all. To watch her fall. I grasp her chin and fight the urge to not come down her throat. “Let me see your fucked up secrets. Fall for me. Break.”
Tears instantly mist her eyes, and it proves too much. Misty dew leaves a trail down her dirt-stained cheeks all the way to her crimson mouth. I see the moment it registers. How fucked up I am, and how much she secretly enjoys being used by me. She craves this just as badly as I do.
Without warning, I empty down her throat; her bloodshot eyes turn to saucers.
She tries to pull back, but I don't allow it.
I pinch her chin again harder, smearing the sanguine fluid, not allowing her to disengage.
“Nah, swallow it. Every last drop,” I snarl.
She sputters. Gulp after gulp she takes my gift.
She should be thanking me. All these bitches want my cock but all he wants is her.
I grind my molars as the euphoria fades.
Frustration replaces lust. The anger. The volatility turns explosive and I'm too weak to leave her alone.
“GODDAMNIT!” I slam my fist against the stone behind her, making my knuckles bleed. Good, it can match my other hand. She twitches, rearing back. My cock falls from her lips.
“Why?” she asks, wiping the last of my cum and blood from her mouth. “You’re a fucking idiot. You never think before you do anything!” she shouts at me. I blink slowly, holding eye contact. It only makes shit worse.
“Bitch,” I say under my breath. I tuck my cock away, not even bothering to zip my jeans and storm out.