Page 164 of Evil Hearts

Chapter Three

Rosalie

C onsciousness returns to me in a haze of sensation. I feel warm… and something else. My insides spasm and writhe, stealing my breath away and shocking the life out of me. My eyes fly wide and with a mind-numbing shock, I lift my head, raising myself up on my elbows to find the beast between my thighs, his head down as he worships at the altar of my cunt. In an instant I forget how to breathe, all the while I fight the pleasure that wracks my body, in denial of what I’m seeing with my own two eyes.

The beast raises his head and for the first time I see him clearly by the fire’s light. Deep, black pools stare back at me from a face that is something of an impossible nightmare. He is a great, black, furred creature, an abomination in the truest sense of the word. It’s as if the devils of Hell spawned a monster, part wolf, bear, and ape—with minotaur horns.

He’s clearly bipedal but can also lope on all fours and climb trees with ease. Frighteningly muscular, with bulging arms and legs that end in cruel claws, two long, dark tongues snake out of his fanged maw as he gazes upon me. He reminds of the beast from Beauty and the Beast fairytale… only infinitely more terrifying.

I want to move, to scooch back and flee from his heinous and monstrous assault, yet I find myself immobile, frozen by fear. Or perhaps it’s with desire? Though I dare not follow that train of thought…

“You’re awake,” the beasts drawls, trailing his dual tongues over his chops salaciously. “Good. Now, you will scream for me, my pretty girl.” Without further explanation the monster returns to eating me out. One powerful tongue manipulates and teases my clit, while the other plunges deep inside me, curling up to lap aggressively at my g-spot.

“Oh, God,” I gasp, in revulsion as much as pleasure. “You’re a monster!”

“That I am,” he growls. “You will discover the manner of beast I am all too soon.” Then he picks me up, eliciting a surprised shriek from me as he cradles my whole body in the palm of one huge hand. With his other he spreads my legs wide, each thigh pinned by splayed fingers. And again, his mouth descends upon me. It’s so big he could quite literally bite my head off.

The sheer horror of our unnatural size difference rocks me to my core. I am so small that I am reminded of what Tinkerbell must have looked like in Peter Pan’s hand, not quite—but almost. Sounds that I don’t even recognize as my own pour out of me and without conscious thought I reach out, my tiny hands grasping at his fingers that cocoon me; anything to anchor myself. Anything to stop me from skyrocketing toward the inevitable, terrifying, and unholy level of ecstasy toward which I’m being relentlessly pushed.

“Please, I can’t—” I cry out, writhing in his grasp.

A deep rumble of dark mirth echoes all around me as his thumb bends over my middle, holding me down, a literal bond of flesh. As one tongue continues to torture my oversensitive clit, his other tongue fucks me, spearing deeper than any man’s cock ever has. It twists upon itself, coiling and pumping, thrusting within me until together his two tongues bring me to the brink of oblivion.

“Fucking, fuck! Jesus Christ!” But that’s where comprehension fails me. In the next instant my brain turns to glue and a double-orgasm the likes I’ve which I never dreamed possible steals over me, smashing me from within with the force of two fucking road trains; a clitoral and vaginal orgasm rolled into one, brutal, titanic release that has an inhuman scream pry itself from my lips and tearing my throat bloody in its wake.

I buck and thrash under his thumb, wild, unhinged, and broken. It’s like something inside me has snapped, something that can never be fixed. Who I am now is not who I was. I’m Rosalie Green, the chubby chick who fucked a monster—and not just any monster, but the King of Monsters—The Beast in the Dark.

As wave after pulsing wave of pain and pleasure rocks my body, like an explosive rave happening inside me, I gasp, my eyes wide as I fight my body for the energy to simply breathe. To say I feel overwhelmed is the greatest understatement of all time. I cannot think, I cannot breathe. I can’t do anything other than merely survive. I am nothing but flesh and sensation. Fire burns me alive, lightning zinging through my nerves to fizzle out at my fingers and toes. Every inch of me feels charged and electric.

And in the very next heartbeat, everything goes black. There is no come down, no gentle reprieve as my body relaxes, sagging with fatigue and exhaustion. No delicious sleepiness awaiting me. Every muscle and nerve is tight and explosive—and then I’m just gone. It’s lights out. I feel like a computer that’s blown a circuit. There was life and then there’s the human equivalent of the Blue Screen of Death; only it’s black, deep, and frighteningly eternal.

I fall through space and time, lost among stars and distant horizons, between one world and the next. It’s comforting in a strange way and eerily peaceful. I feel nothing. One moment there was fire and pain and pleasure wracking my every fiber of my being and now… I am void. I’m like a feather, inconsequential, weightless, and no longer in control—of anything.

With one final spark of clarity, before the Light of my soul fades into the Eternal Darkness, I realize that the beast has killed me. The bloody fucker fucked me to death. He ate me alive. A ripple of insanity-tinged laughter ripples through my intangible essence and a last sigh escapes me. What a fucking trip! It seems only fitting that I die in the arms of a monster. God knows, I’ve always felt like one myself.