FIAMETTA

I wake with a sore throat and puffy eyes from crying myself to sleep. Opening my eyes, I brace myself, expecting to be blinded by the morning light, but I find my room is still shrouded in darkness. I flick on the lamp next to my bed and notice that it’s a little after two.

There are still many hours to rest ahead, but none of them are coming my way. Not once my mind starts to spin at the disgusting things Tomas tried to do to me.

Before my mind can truly tumble into the darkness, I catch a glimpse of a golden hardcover book on my side table. I know it isn’t mine, because other than my copy of Pride and Prejudice, only my cell phone ever sits on it. I notice that its golden cover has red inlay running along the spine. I’m scared to reach for it at first, playing with the idea that it’s some witch’s tome, and that the second I touch it, I’ll be cursed. But I scoff at the idea, realizing that whatever curse a witch could put on me, can’t be worse than the nightmare I’ve found myself living in.

Then it hits me. The only person who can get in and out of my room like a shadow is Crue. My heart skips as my fingers run over the outer shell. I can tell it’s old just by looking at it, but there aren’t any words on the front to tell me what it is.

Cautiously, I pull the front cover open, and I see it:

Pride and Prejudice:

A Novel.

In Three Volumes.

By the

Author of “Sense and Sensibility.”

London: 1813

I’m stunned at the sight of the yellowed pages. I don’t want to turn them, fearful that I might damage this ancient artifact. But beyond all that, I want to scream from the overwhelming excitement bubbling inside me.

I never expected such a thoughtful gift from Crue. He may have scanned through my copy and quoted the line I’ve pondered for years, but who’d have guessed he’d turn that into such a heartwarming treasure?

Wait a second.

He read my copy. Saw my notes. What if...

I gently flick through the pages, until I reach my destination. To no surprise, I find one of my own sticky notes hanging crookedly across the line. And written on it, Crue’s message comes with an answer to my latest question, along with one of his own:

The mind brings endless turmoil, and a heart of gold will endure.

But can we change who we are, to watch a Little Flame grow into a blazing inferno?

Cryptically beautiful.

I shut the book and squeeze it against my chest as a new wave of tears stings my eyes.

As the minutes pass, I return to my new book and start scanning the lines to see if there’s any difference between this ancient copy and the modern reprint sitting beside me.

A gentle tapping at my window pulls me from my books. The unexpected sound makes me tense up, and I awkwardly turn to face it as if there’s a ghost waiting to jump scare me. I shut the book and rest it tenderly on my side table before getting out of bed.

Only one man would come up the fire escape. My man.

I get to the window and see it isn’t locked. I’m not surprised since he slipped inside my room earlier. And just beyond, shrouded in the inky black of night, Crue’s resting on his haunches, waiting for me.

I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to think about what else he did while I was sleeping. Did he indulge anymore of his forbidden fantasies? A touch? A kiss? A taste.

Heat pools in my core as it runs across my mind. It should terrify me, but it doesn’t. Crue’s strange behavior has discovered the wildest part inside me. Everything he does is taboo. His desires, wants and needs, could make the devil blush.

I open the window, and he steps inside.

“I saw your light was on. I had to see you,” Crue says, but he doesn’t make a move to silence me with his hand or lower his voice.

“Shh,” I say. “Tomas is here.”

“He isn’t. Your dad called me over, tonight. Tomas limped in, hammered, while we were talking.” Crue’s eyes move down my body. First to my breasts in my oversized shirt, and then to my legs sticking out the bottom of it.

Too bad the shirt’s just a little too long to see everything, huh?

“Father called you?” I ask, surprised.

His steely gaze never breaks. “Fiametta, it doesn’t matter. I’m here for you.”

The mix of emotions I feel from hearing his announcement about visiting Father, to the way he is looking at me sits uncomfortably in my chest. It’s a hollow void of fear and desperation, and I can’t tell which one is winning.

“For m—”

Crue snaps a hand forward and it wraps around my neck. Before I have a chance to figure out what’s happening, he pulls me into him, while leaning forward at the same time. Our mouths smash together in a passionate embrace that steals the air from my lungs.

He continues kissing me as we start walking to my bed. One hand remains pinned to my neck, while the other begins desperately searching the lengths of my body. It settles on my breast, and a muffled cry escapes me and into his mouth.

We reach my bed and Crue pulls away from me. He holds me in place a moment, before grabbing hold of my shirt with one hand, allowing his eyes to scan the outline of my body inside it.

“I want you, Fiametta,” Crue’s husky whisper sends a shiver down my spine. “I fucking need you.”

He presses the hand squeezing my shirt into my chest and pushes me backward. My knees buckle against my bed, and I fall onto it with a bounce. My legs part for him instinctively. I don’t need to say it back, for my body to give him the signs.

I need this too. Sweet release to clear my mind.

Instead of climbing on top of me, Crue lowers himself to his knees. He grabs my ankles with both his hands and spreads my legs further, as his glimmering green eyes stare straight into my shirt’s opening.

“Take your shirt off,” Crue orders, before his lips land against my calf.

Frantically ripping at the material, I manage to pull the shirt over my head before his mouth makes contact with my knee. It doesn’t stop there, not even when his eyes snap to my naked breasts, causing him to growl in satisfaction.

When he crosses over to my thigh, he sucks my flesh into his mouth and bites down. It’s playful, barely crossing the threshold of painful, but it reignites the heat in my core.

He hooks my other leg over his shoulder to give his hand more mobility. While he continues to tease my skin, his hand slides up his body to be level with my panties. But Crue doesn’t rip them off as I expect him to. Instead, he grabs the wet front and peels it to the side.

“Oh God,” I howl as his mouth smashes against my pussy with no caution, pretense or care. He slides his tongue along my slit, coating it in a thick layer of my liquid, before he settles it against my clit.

Sucking the overly sensitive bud between his lips, he flicks over it with the pointed tip of his tongue in quick, precise lashings. And if that wasn’t enough to push me to the brink of orgasm already, Crue presses his thumb against my entrance. Still holding one of my legs in the air, to separate them as far as he can, the friction of my panties brushing against my throbbing lips, his mouth working its magic and his ever-inching finger, my mind melts in overloaded euphoria.

He drops my leg suddenly, and his hand makes its way to my breast. He squeezes it into his palm, while delighted noises rumble from below. But as his palm turns into two fingers tugging against my nipple, all the wild sensations boiling inside me hit their peak.

“Oh, fuck.” I sink my hands down to his head, grabbing handfuls of his hair as my entire body begins to tremble. And as if he were waiting for it, Crue drives his thumb all the way inside me, making me climax around it.

The sensation radiates through every muscle in my body. As if it wasn’t enough already, Crue continues to lick me, long after my shaking has stopped. It’s as if he can’t resist lapping up every last drop, even though he knows he can come back to the well whenever he pleases.

Satisfied that he’s cleaned me completely, Crue pulls his body back. His eyes travel up my body, but they don’t linger anywhere until they meet my eyes. He slowly eases his thumb out of me and brings it up to my mouth. I open it as far as my weak muscles allow, and he slides it inside, rubbing my juices all over my tongue.

“It wouldn’t be fair if I got a taste and you didn’t,” he says, groaning at the sensation of my soft tongue caressing his rough thumb.

I nod, floating in a haze of orgasmic bliss. He can say and do whatever he wants to me right now, and I’d agree. Just as long as he doesn’t stop making me feel this amazing.

Crue stands up, removing his digit from my mouth and rolls his black leather jacket off his shoulders. And with it, I realize that I’ve never seen him without his top half covered. He’s wearing a black tank top, but from the missing sleeves, black ink runs down his arms in various patterns. He rips his shirt off, exposing an incredibly muscular body beneath, and like his arms it’s covered in ink.

Among the tattoos, I see scars littering his body. Some are small, looking more like scrapes, while others are enormous in comparison. Among the mix of healed over wounds, long gashes from being cut run down his chest, and there’s one right above his waist that looks like he was stabbed with a jagged bottle.

Holy shit, I didn’t think he could look any hotter, but seeing his war-torn body makes me shudder. And if that realization isn’t enough, another flicks a light on in my head.

He’s going to fuck me .

It should’ve been obvious by the way he is undressing, more so by his proclamation that he needs me. But somehow it didn’t cross my mind until now.

“Like what you see?” Crue asks, as he works his belt the same way he did in the bar. This time he kicks his shoes off before he finishes undoing all the buttons and zips keeping his jeans up. “Or repulsed by it?”

He looks down at his own body, scanning the mix of wounds and tattoos. His question doesn’t come out as serious, and if it is, he seems to not give a fuck about my opinion.

“It’s amazing.” I choke on the words, but it’s more for the fact that Crue drops his pants, and his throbbing erection springs into view.

“You’re amazing.”

Crue grabs the front of my panties in his fist, and the sensation of his fingers brushing my scorched wetness makes me moan delightedly.

“You know, I still have the pair I took from you.” He pulls them off me in one swift motion. He keeps them crumpled in his hand, raising them up to his mouth and breathing in while his eyes roll to the back of his head.

Holy shit, I’ve never been more attracted to anyone in my life. He has a direct line to the pleasure receptors in my brain, and he knows it, too.

“I keep them under my pillow as a reminder of what you’ve done to me.” Crue falls to his knees between my legs and slowly lowers my panties from his nose. Instead of discarding them to the side, he cups the balled, wet cotton against my mouth, and holds it there until I let him shove them inside me. “Our dirty little secret.”

Oh God, I’m gonna cum again. He hasn’t even started, and I can feel it brewing inside me .

He starts sliding across the bed, positioning himself so his cock is just above my body. It isn’t even the whole thing, but I can see it stretching over my pelvis with its head stopping just past my belly button.

Crue wraps a hand around the base, and it makes a shiver run through his entire body. He brings it down like a hammer, knocking the tip against my body, and I wriggle with every tap.

He stares at me with dark content, and glides his tip through my slick folds, soaking it before it stops at my entrance. I moan against the panties, slowly slipping deeper into my mouth. And it seems that muffled cry is what Crue was waiting for.

His free hand grips onto my waist, and he uses it to hold me steady as he bucks his hips forward, driving his enormous head past my barrier. I cry out in blissful agony, as my pussy stretches to accommodate his size. There’s no end to the gasps and choked noises fighting their way out of me, as he lowers inch of magnificent inch into me.

“Christ,” he hisses through gritted teeth. His own breathing starting to hasten. Crue’s legs buckle, and he falls on top of me. The slow and steady rhythm he was taking to fit inside me, is thrown out the window as he suddenly crumbles. A few inches turn into the majority of his thick shaft, and I howl at the swelling pleasure of being filled to the brim.

Did he do it on purpose? Pretend to fall so we could skip the adjustment period and get straight to the fun part?

A minute ago, I’d have hated it to be true.

Right now? I can’t stop rolling my hips from side to side against his girth, while it scratches the deep itch only his cock can reach.

He brings his second hand into the crook of my thigh, and uses it as leverage to begin thrusting. I’m surprised he keeps it slow to start with. He pulls all the way back to his cock’s head, before sinking as far as my body will allow him to go.

Crue brings his mouth to mine again, and kisses me, panties and all. His tongue slides over the fabric in a way that leads me to believe he wants to steal whatever taste of me he can get. When he’s finished with my soaked panties, he uses his teeth to pull them out of my mouth. He flicks his head to the side, and they go flying across the room, as the sounds they suppressed start barreling out of my open mouth.

Moans, groans and choked sputters of delight fill the room, and with them Crue uses his hands on my hips to start pulling me into his thrusts.

“I told you once, Little Flame,” his hoarse voice struggles to get the words out. “And now you know I mean it.”

I gasp for air, trying to fill my lungs. It’s in vain, as every thrust Crue drives into me, knocks the oxygen straight back out of me.

“You’re mine.” He growls.

“My mouth.” He kisses me briefly, while he slams into me.

“My tits.” He moves his head down my body, burying his face between my breasts. He delivers this message with his tongue, coiling it over my nipple before he sucks it into his lips.

“My pussy.” He thrusts into me savagely, until my insides coil into a tight knot. There’s no delay between feeling it tighten and the overwhelming intensity of my vicious orgasm, exploding over his erection.

My mind turns to mush as his cock ravages my pussy. Any thoughts I have left are replaced by him. My man, my monster, truly claiming me as his.

His face starts tensing as I climax around him. His neck and shoulders follow, until every muscle in his body is flexing. Every new thrust is slower than the last, but they’re harder and deeper as guttural sounds begin erupting out of his mouth.

“Ah, fuck,” he growls against my breast, his breathe tickling the skin his tongue just wet. And with one, final thrust that buries his cock to the hilt, I feel the first trickle of his seed. It’s followed by a typhoon of hot, splashing liquid that coats my inner walls. I slide my hand to his face, taking a page out of his book and slipping my thumb into his mouth.

He licks and sucks on it, while he empties himself inside me. Choked sounds catch in the back of his throat, until he finally crumbles fully, panting for air against my bosom.

I hold his face against my breasts, giggling frantically at the intimacy of this moment, after the savagery he put me through. But mostly, I’m giggling at the realization that everything makes sense. Every single thought. Intrigue spurred on by twisted fascination with the beast hunting me, has made me feel crazy. He’s a stalker, a murderer, and the guy who keeps making me feel special with one hand, while the other dangles a dagger in front of my face.

But as Crue’s layers are peeled away and he exposes his true self, I find he isn’t a monster. He’s a man, made of flesh, and blood, and bone, just like the rest of us.

He might have a roundabout way of showing it, but like the book he left on my side table, Crue does little things to show he cares about me. I feel as if I can finally answer the question he left.

Can we change who we are, to watch the Little Flame grow into a blazing inferno?

Yes. A thousand times, yes. Crue is living proof that we can. From wanting to assassinate me, to nestling against my breast like lovers do, he can’t be the same man who set out on this path of destruction.

He makes me feel special. Whole. Without having to say it, I feel loved and cared for. It’s a sensation I sorely lacked in my younger years, and it hasn’t really changed since.

And where I’m the first to admit it sounds crazy, I don’t believe it actually is . He has given me so much that I’ve missed in such a short time, so it’s no surprise I’ve fallen for him.

If that’s even what this is.

But there are worse things, and worse people it could’ve happened with instead.

“Was it all you imagined it would be?” I ask, running my fingers through Crue’s hair.

“And more.” His lips vibrate against my skin. “So. Much. More.”

Crue gets off the bed and pulls his jeans back on before he tumbles back on top of me, resting his head on my chest once more. A strange action, but one that makes me chuckle, nonetheless. Does he feel self-conscious about being naked? After what we just did, that would be the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.

His shift from deep intimacy to getting dressed prompts a thought that sneaks into my head. My lips stretch into a wide smile that immediately starts hurting my cheeks, as I find the best way to say it.

“You’ve fucked me. So why haven’t you finished me yet?” I’m laughing before I can fully finish the question.

I know it’s a bad idea to poke the bear, but we’ve transcended that dark part of our relationship. He’s shown me way too much kindness, in his own special way, for me to believe he still wants to kill me. It doesn’t matter how many times he says it.

If slitting my throat was really his end goal, he’d have done it right after orgasming, instead of using me as a pillow.

Right?

His lack of an answer makes me second guess myself. Unless he screwed himself into exhaustion and passed out.

I slide a finger under his chin to test the waters. His head lifts when I will it to, and his eyes are heavy with sorrow that doesn’t reach the rest of his features.

“Because I’m going to do it, now.” His dark, husky voice cuts the silence.

I barely get to mouth out the first syllable of my question, before I feel a pin prick against my neck. Within seconds my brain starts shutting down. I force my eyes to stay open, keeping them locked on his.

Stay awake, Fiametta. Don’t… drift…

But it’s too late. Whatever was in Crue’s syringe is too potent to fight.

My heavy eyes fall shut, and I drift off into a bleak, dreamless void.

THE END.

THANKS FOR READING!