Page 79 of Like A Moth To A Flame

No, I fuckingneededit.

“P-please,” I whined, grinding myself against his mouth. “F-fuck. Fuck, please!”

I felt the heat of his breath on my sensitive skin, and then it happened; his tongue moved in just the right way as he suckedme, his lips and tongue working together to bring me to the edge. I cried out, my body convulsing, my fingers digging into the ropes that bound me as I fought to stay upright. It was too much, too overwhelming, and yet I wanted more. I wanted him to consume me, to take all of me, to make me his completely.

As the pleasure washed over me, leaving me breathless and spent, he pulled away, looking up at me, his lips and tongue wet from the torture he’d put me through. He sat back on his knees, bringing his hand to his lips, and I saw the blood and lust in a swirling vortex across the pads of his fingers as he sucked them into his mouth.

I watched, captivated and horrified, as he savored my essence, the primal hunger in his eyes never fading. He climbed up my body, and I tried to steady my breathing, my heart still pounding in my chest.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against mine. The coppery scent of blood filled my nostrils and poured down my throat as he kissed me, feeding at my mouth with a voracious need. I could feel the wild desire flowing from him, and though I was scared, I could not deny the forbidden taste of it. I parted my lips, my heart racing and every nerve ending firing beneath my flesh. The roughness of his tongue scraping against mine and the deep growls that resonated in his chest electrified me.

My body trembled, and I felt like I was in a haze. My mind was still reeling, spinning in tightening circles, trying to process what had just happened.

He pulled away and looked at me, his eyes dark and hungry. There was a bloodstained smirk on his lips as he leaned closer, his breath warm and sultry against my skin.

“You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Y-yes,” I whispered, even if I hated to admit it.

“Good girl,” he growled.

He reached up, loosening the rope around my left wrist until it was slack and sagging. I watched as he jumped off the stairs, yanking the mask down his face and stepping up to the door. He pulled it open and disappeared into the night without a word, leaving me panting and struggling to make sense of what had happened.

I lay there against the stairs, my breath hitching in my lungs and tears racing from the corners of my eyes—though not from fear, not this time.

20

Feed the dark, your panic, engage. I know what you are. You’re desperate like me

Moth

Iwas dazed.

When he walked away, leaving me panting and alone, a painful confusion had taken up residence at the forefront of my mind. I twisted—or tried to—to untie the remaining rope. Instead, I slipped and yanked on my wrist painfully, whimpering at the pain.

Struggling to right myself, I felt the breeze of a cool late summer’s night slither up my dress and shivered. He’d left the front door open, but the screen door clapped closed behind him. With trembling hands, I finally managed to untie the rope and stumbled to my feet. The night enveloped me in its cool embrace as I stood there, disheveled and shaken.

The dim moonlight cast long shadows across the porch, reaching out like Lovecraftian tendrils, to wrap around my throat and drag me down. The only sound was the faint rustling of leaves inthe gentle breeze. I could still smell him, the scent lingering and intermingled with iron and lust. Gritting my teeth against the pain in my wrists, I took a tentative step forward, my heart pounding.

As I reached the front door, I peered through the old rusted screen, listening for any sign of his return. When none came, I pulled the door around and snapped it shut, not bothering to flip the lock. The world outside was dark and unfamiliar, and even if I was still scared, it didn’t matter. The darkness could get in any time it pleased, and after tonight, there was no point in keeping it away.

I felt the tacky, slick heat pooling against my thighs and sighed. With one last glance at the door, I moved to the stairs.

The house felt foreign, each creak and groan echoing through the empty rooms. My mind was a jumble of thoughts, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Twice now, he’d done that to me, taking nothing for himself and leaving me soon after.

Why? What was in it for him?

Up the stairs, every creak seemed to echo through the house. I clung to the railing, my knuckles bleeding white with tension. The only light came from the moon filtering through the dusty windows, casting eerie shadows on the walls that seemed to dance around me. I took a deep breath and pushed open the nearest door. I recognized the room beyond, even though it was cloaked in darkness—the bathroom. My reprieve.

Slipping the dress off over my head, my bra quickly followed, and I hurried into the bathtub, pulling the curtain closed andencasing myself in a den of secrecy, somewhere I could hide from the world.

The cool porcelain against my skin washed away the scorching memories that lingered in my mind.

When I started to shiver, I lifted and gripped the tap, twisting until the water poured out and slowly went warm. I plugged the drain and the tub slowly began to fill around me. Closing my eyes, I let the water cascade over me, washing away what remained of his touch.

The sound of my breathing filled the small space, a reminder that I was still here, still alive despite everything.

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