Page 6 of Intrigue

I hook one of her legs in my arm and spread her wide enough for me, her cunt glistening, split open like a wound. She’s flexible so this makes for a very beautiful show, her body a canvas for my rot. That’s what this is in the end. A show, a depraved fucking ritual. I put my cock in her entrance and feel the heat of her capture me completely, wet and tight and wrong. When I thrust in, I go in roughly, unable to control my feelings anymore, slamming her against the wall until plaster dust rains down.

“Oh, fuck, oh oh…” she moans, dragging her nails against the plaster in the walls, scrabbling like she’s trying to climb out of this.

“Good. Take me in just like that.” I move fast inside of her, pounding her raw. The sound of her wetness fills the room, sloppy and loud, that and her loud moans, half-scream, half-prayer. “You like when you’re fucked like this, huh? You like being fucked rough, split open?”

“Uh-uh.” She tries to meet my strokes but fails and instead grabs hold of my shoulders to steady herself, nails biting into my skin. “You fuck me so good. Please don’t stop…keep pounding my pussy like this…oh, God!”

I go deeper and faster, claiming her with every pent-up emotion lodged in my chest, every thrust a stab at Selene’s memory. I feel it when I go too deep, her body seizing up. Sheimmediately cries out and digs her nails into my shoulders, but when I try to shift, she holds me in place, gasping, “No, please…” like she’s begging for the hurt.

The more I pound into her pussy, the more her back scrapes the plaster, skin peeling against the rough edge.

My mind goes back to Selene’s storm-gray eyes and stays. No matter how hard I try, I can’t shake off the thought that I want her and I’m never going to stop wanting her no matter how many women I take to my bed, no matter how much I wreck myself. Because this isn’t passion, fucking this woman roughly in the backroom of the party, but a punishment for me, for her absence and for thinking I could ever forget her, that I could ever scrub her from my soul. A sick penance I’ll never finish paying.

I hook both her legs in my arms, press her even more into the wall, her body folding under me, and thrust in and out, faster, deeper until she begins jerking in my arms, her voice shallow when she thinks to speak, cracking like glass. “I’m gonna come. I’m…gonna…come…”

She screams as her orgasm hits, a ragged wail, body convulsing, but I don’t stop pounding, driving through her spasms. I need to purge her by any means necessary, need to fuck Selene out of my marrow.

When the sweetness envelops me, hot and unbearable, I put her down, pull my cock out, and stroke, slick with her. “Get down on your knees and open your mouth. Fuck, open that sweet little mouth and take my load, swallow it all.”

The dancer gets down to her knees and parts her mouth open, tongue lolling out, greedy. She swipes it on the tip of my cock, lapping at the mess, and my head rolls back in answer, a guttural sound ripping free. I stroke, fast and sloppy, ready for the release, then break apart in her mouth, spilling everything.

I watch as she sucks me dry, swallowing my essence, lips stretched around me. “Good girl!” I growl, panting, chest heaving like I’ve been gutted.

I step away from her once it’s over and adjust my briefs to accommodate me, the damp fabric sticking. She gets up on her feet and wipes her mouth with the back of a hand, smearing what’s left.

“That was incredible…I have never been…fucked like that.”

It’s never going to be more, and we both know that, so there’s no formality to the sex. No tenderness, no afterglow.

She picks up her dress and tries to fit herself back into the torn lace in a futile scramble. I shake my head at her and back out of the room, my boots scuffing the floor. I should feel better with everything, but I don’t. Instead, I feel hollow, the same way I’d felt all those years ago when Selene walked out of my life.

It’s my fault, but she’d be crazy to think she’s free now. I’ll drag her back to me if I have to, kicking and screaming, until she’s mine again.

***

I lean against the gritty wall a few hours later, dusting cigarette ash onto the pavement as my eyes fixate on her hotel room window. She’s in there right now, with him, probably whispering about some future I’ll never be part of. It was supposed to be me.

For five years, I imagined her storming back into my life, eyes blazing, forgiving me for sins she’d never fully understand.

Instead, there’s a ring on her finger from a man who barely knows the darkness beneath her skin, the secrets she hides—who could never crave her the way I do.

I take a slow drag from my cigarette, exhaling the bitterness that’s been coiling in my chest since the moment I saw her. Itgnaws at me more now because every life drained at my feet was all to prove I could exist without her. But it was pointless.

She’s happy. The thought makes my jaw clench.

No, not happy. Delusional.

She’s playing house with a man who doesn’t know what it means to bleed for her. Who would never burn down the world to keep her safe.

He doesn’t deserve her.

But he does deserve to suffer.

Her wedding, her tranquility, this lie she’s crafted, I’ll tear it apart. I’ve already started. I discovered the precious gallery Cassian just acquired is nothing but leased space. The landlord is a greedy bastard who’ll sell his soul and smile as he counts the cash I hand him.

Cassian’s world is about to collapse and he doesn’t know it yet.

But he’s about to lose everything.