Page 13 of Haunt

I drop the axe. Her gasp of surprise as loud as the thud of the axe as it hits the floor, echoing around the high-ceilinged room. My knees crash into the floor and my mouth comes to the crease of her upper thigh. Nose burrowing between her legs, I angle my face, keeping my cheekbone pressed into her cunt, mouth slanting over the wound, I suck,hard.Her hands fly to my head, fingers weaving into my curls. Her spine arches back, grip tightening on the top of my head as I bury my face further between her thighs.

Inhaling her deep, smelling her arousal, earthy and sweet, I can’t resist.

And shoving my tongue in her cunt is definitely not my cock.

It only counts if it’s my dick.

When you can’t break the rules, you manipulate them.

I smile against her, my hands coming to the backs of her thighs, fingertips gouging her flesh. I drag her into me, my tongue lashing over the slice in her thigh, my head rocking back and forth as I do, ensuring I graze my face over her pussy. She lifts onto her tiptoes, head dropped back as I look up at her, watch her face, shadowed in the darkness, tighten with need.

My hands slide up the backs of her thighs, sliding beneath the cotton of her underwear. I flip my hands, the rough backs of them against her soft skin, my fingers curling over the waistband of her underwear, from the inside out, and I move my mouth just enough to tear them down her legs. She wobbles on her feet as they fall to her ankles, my hands immediately back on her, groping her cheeks as my mouth covers her cunt.

She groans, bowing back, pushing her pussy even closer as I yank her into me. I bite her folds, my tongue slipping between them, spearing straight into her tight cunt as I work my fingers between her cheeks, gripping punishingly and pulling her apart for more access. I groan as she whimpers, her wetness drowning me as I bury my face in her. She pulls on handfuls of my hair like they’re reins, trying to direct me where she wants me, nails clawing the skin from my scalp.

But I don’t fuck like that.

I pull back from her, staring at her exposed clit where my fingers from behind hold her open. All pink and glistening, her pulse practically jumping in her clit. I stare up at her, her chest heaving, those big brown eyes staring down at me. Without looking, I spit on her cunt, feeling my saliva as it runs towards my fingers, her entire body flinching as I do. She blinks, once, a slow hard clearing of her vision and then she sucks in a sharp breath.

“Stop moving,” I order, a growling bite to my words, my breath ghosting over her cunt, spread open and twitching,waiting.

She stares down at me, chest heaving, eyes wide, she licks her lips, swaying slightly in my hold, thigh muscles jumping beneath my over-tight hold on her. But she’s not squirming with pain. She is fucking intoxicated with it,with me.

“And let me fuckingeat.”

Then my mouth is back on her, messy and wet and she is fucking dripping. Her sweet-earthy arousal dribbling down her inner thighs, mixing with the blood from her wound. My mouth follows the trails of it, tongue flat and harsh as I lap it up, turning my head from one leg to the other ensuring I don’t miss any. Then my nose is nudging her clit, and I’m impaling her on my tongue, one of my fingers circling the tight ring of muscle at her other hole. She yanks at my hair as I apply more pressure with my tongue, my nose on her clit. I can’t breathe and I don’t think I ever want to come up for fucking air, if it means I get to die with her sitting on my face like it’s a throne.

Her legs are trembling and as I drag my mouth up the length of her. Finger driving deep into her arse, a thumb replacing my tongue in her pussy as my teeth latch around her clit and I suck, instantly making her shatter. She comes so hard, entire body trembling, that she half collapses over me. I don’t change my pace until she’s completely bowing over me, her fingers slicing through my hair and down the back of my skull, my nape. I keep suckling at her until her belly is resting on the top of my head, body draping over me, arms loose over my shoulders, fingers hanging limp near the centre of my spine.

I draw in a deep breath, my finger and thumb gently sliding out of her, hands smoothing over the backs of her now bruised thighs, just holding her against me. My cock kicks hard in my jeans, but I ignore it. There are some sacred rituals I absolutely cannot fuck up. So as much as I’d like to sink deep inside her tight little body, I refrain. Trying to soften myself to her instead.

She shivers, her cold skin slick with a fine sheen of sweat and we both breathe hard, her body weight fully relaxing over the top of me. She trembles, I smooth a hand up her back, hear her teeth rattling and pull her limp body into my lap, cradling her to my chest. She tucks her hands up beneath her chin, shivers wracking through her, I drop my chin to the top of her head, breathe her in.

“Think you can get dressed up real pretty for me, Little Lamb?” I whisper against the crown of her head, wisps of long dark hair tickling my face with my breath.

She nods, burying her face against my bare chest, flaking with dried blood. Her breath is cool against my nipple, hardening it and I can hardly concentrate as she laves her tongue over it, shifting in my lap so that she’s fully over the undeniable hardness of my cock.

One hand clutching her upper back, holding her to me, I slap at her outer thigh with the other.

“Up,” I rumble, a yelp as she jolts.

She grumbles against my goosebump smattered skin, pushing against my chest to stand. She stumbles to her feet, shaky legs finally steadying like a newborn lamb. She looks fully destroyed and a sly smile plays on the corner of my lips as I stare up at her. Blood and saliva, her arousal, smearing her inner thighs. I feel a little smug as she peers down at me, bottom lip tucked between her teeth, a monstrous glint in her eye.

“Use towels,” I tell her, my voice rough. “We don’t have time for showers.”

She stares back at me as I rise to my feet, tracking my every movement, like if she doesn’t, I might disappear as though I were never here at all.

I feel the need to reassure her, tell her I’m not going anywhere, but that’s not true.

In reality, it is her who won’t be.

Freedom, hers, mine, ours, belongs to The Obsidian.

And after tonight, once I’ve had my way with her,pairedwith her,she won’t be going anywhere without me ever a-fuckin-gain.

Billy carries the bleeding bag of body parts, the duffle slung casually over his shoulder. His other hand, his left, encases my right, our fingers laced together, but realistically, my hand being so small, I am swamped by him, the tips of my fingers only just peeking out between the webbing of his.

There is a full moon, high in the pitch sky, clear and cool, no wispy clouds of white or grey, just the large white orb, rings of blurred glow around it. The cobbles beneath our feet are slick with the residue of water used to drench the dry soil in the flower boxes lining the streets. Hanging baskets of amaryllis and chrysanthemums, all of them bright and blooming, even this late in the year, strung up high on the black, lantern-style lampposts.

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