Page 10 of Death C*mes Inside Her
“Please,” I plead, like I did when the men from the bank came and told me I would need to leave.
“Please, what?” Aios hisses, and I feel his gaze on me, strangely powerful and yet tender.
“Please… don’t stop. It feels so good. It’s been so long since I felt good.”
A sound of approval vibrates against me. Each stroke pulls heat from cold until I’m panting, legs shaking, vision blurring. His hand stays on me, heavy and sure, turning every startled flinch into a surrender.
A long groan runs through the ceiling beams as warmth seeps up from the floor. Curtains lift and settle like breath.
“Look at me,” he orders.
My head tips forward, and I meet the fire in his eyes. I’m stripped bare from what I see there, and it burns away what’s left of my shyness. It makes me brave enough to speak.
“I want all of you,” I whisper. “I want to be yours.”
“You’re already mine, little witch, and I will give you what you wish for. In return, I’ll take what I want from you. That is our pact.”
Something deep in me clenches like it understands before I do. He works me harder. Not fast, just certain, until I’m floating on the edge.
“Breathe,” he tells me, and I try.
Pleasure hits all at once, a sharp white shock that rips a cry from my throat. I grab for him before remembering I’m not supposed to. My hands find his shoulders anyway, and the size, the cold weight under my palms, shoves me the rest of the way over. It’s too much, and exactly enough. I come apart and stay scattered for long, weightless moments.
When I blink back, the parlor isn’t the same. Billowing red fabric spills around the windows. A low, blue and orange flame flickers from black logs in the hearth. The velvet under me is no longer dusty. The whole house feels awake… pleased.
He presses a slow, claiming kiss to the inside of my thigh, as much as teeth and bone can kiss, before lifting his head. The skull should be terrifying, but somehow it isn’t. It’s just him. His eyes drink me in like he’s memorizing every detail of my face.
“Mine,” he growls, the vibration from that single word whipping around me, squeezing, and I have an odd sensation like a crown has been placed upon my head.
I nod, wordless as my fingers test the top of my head, but there’s nothing there but the texture of my hair. He makes a sound of amused satisfaction.
“Tell me you are mine, Eve. That you understand that means your will belongs to me now. All your choices will be mine from now on, and you will do what I say. You will be a vessel for my wickedness, whether that is pleasure or pain.”
“I’m yours.” My voice shakes, my brain spinning as I try to understand what I’m agreeing to, but my heart is in his control. “I’m yours.”
“Good girl. You are so beautiful. Born for something greater than this.” He waves his talons toward the ceiling, and the dark light fixture sparks to life, spinning and casting a dancing glow across his grotesque face.
Heat blooms on my cheeks at his praise. I want to please him more than I want to do anything for myself. There’s no logic here anymore, just me and this inhuman spirit that feels so close to a father figure in a way I don’t fully understand. I do not fear him, but I fear disappointing him.
He rises in one smooth motion. A hand slides under me, and I’m lifted as light as air itself. Instinct has my arms wrapping around the mixture of bones and tendons that make up his neck.
The sensation has me shivering for a moment before the cold turns to heat. Fire and ice, just like the old stories say.
“Where are we going?” I ask as he more glides than walks toward the open door.
“Up,” he says, voice rough. “My room.”
My stomach flips, but the house seems to approve. The chandelier trembles, the fire in the hearth bursts and crackles.
“Your room?” I blink up at his bony face, swallowing hard. “What do you mean?”
“This house is mine. I spent many of your human years here, once upon a time, and as the master of his house, I have a room of my own.”
He carries me into the hall. The door swings shut without his touch. That giant phallus that he pumped with his hand earlier seems to cradle me from below, solid and curved at my back like a third arm supporting me.
As we pass, a mirror along the corridor ripples, and I see how huge he is, with me like a child in his arms.
On the staircase, I press my face to his throat. There is no skin there, just cold shadow over bone, but I can smell him like stones after a rain. I inhale, filling my lungs with him, because I want him inside me.
