Page 17 of Blood Day: Part Two

He didn’t otherwise move, our bodies locked together as his eyes held mine. A myriad of emotions burned in his gaze, darkening his irises to a black shade.

There wasn’t much light coming through the water, the moon above only providing an eerie glow that added to the threatening ambience.

I held my breath, his devastating expression promising violence.

My nails dug into my elbows as I fought the urge to grab him, to hold on to him for dear life.

He wasn’t my savior or my hero. He was the villain in my world, the one who demanded I bow and give him everything before tossing me away to the literal wolves.

Yet I couldn’t stop this fascination brewing between us, this impulse to claim him in some way, this foreign need to ensure he never forgot me.

I desired him more than air.

It was dangerous to my health, an addiction that would absolutely kill me.

But I refused to deny myself this one pleasure of choosing him. He’d phrased his desire to fuck me like a threat. I’d accepted it and turned it around by telling him it was what I wanted.

Now we were joined, his cock so deep inside me that I felt every inch of him like a hot brand against my very soul.

This felt more intense than a simple intrusion. It was as though he’d locked a cage around my heart and stolen the key that would allow my emotions any freedom.

He owned me.

Possessedme.

Enchanted my very being.

His name was the only one I knew, the world around us redefined by this meaning of existence.

I didn’t understand it. He hadn’t even moved other than to thrust up into my untouched center, stealing my innocence and claiming it as his.

His lethal features remained unchanged, his dark irises burning with a fury I didn’t understand.

Did I do something wrong? Is he going to fuck me until I drown?

My pulse raced, my heart beating so wildly that it made me dizzy.

His thumb brushed my throat, telling me he could hear and feel my reaction.

His other hand squeezed my hip, guiding me off of him just to shove back inside again.

I gasped, the sensation even more intense this time. But in a warmer way, causing my muscles to spasm around him in a silent demand for more.

He slid forward on the bench, taking me with him, and I suddenly had an image of him pushing me beneath the waterfall again to fuck me while I choked to death.

It was a strange mix of arousal and terror, exciting a thrumming need inside me that I didn’t quite understand.

I liked his power over me.

I liked how easily he could kill me.

Because, deep down, I knew he wouldn’t. I trusted him to hold me, to give me the air I required to survive, to provide me with a life worth living.

It was a heady realization that had me panting for more, my mind utterly lost to his presence.

He introduced me to an entirely new world, one where my pleasure mattered.

That’s why he stopped moving.