by Lacey Alpha
I lurch away, taking a moment to press my fingers into my eyelids, banishing the vision.
“There's one thing I have to do,” I tell her, knowing there's only one way this can happen.
“What?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I need to blindfold you.”
Her lips part uncertainly then she nods, moving across the room, fetching a winter scarf from the back of the door. She holds it out to me and I take it, running the woollen material through my fist.
She lifts her chin, giving me permission.
I wrap the scarf around her head, tying it tightly at the back. As I tug my shirt off, she reaches out, her hands searching for me, her expression longing. I take them, placing them on my chest.
I feel instantly at ease. I can do anything without those bright accusing eyes on me.
I let her hands roam to my waistband before halting her, guiding her to the bed and lowering her onto it.
Dropping my trousers, I stand between her legs, regarding her.
A hiss of deterrents course through my mind but I drown them out, wanting this, needing this.
Lowering over her, I press my hands into the sheets. Her legs raise either side of me and she wriggles further up the mattress.
I follow, dropping my weight down to keep her still. Gliding my hand up her side, I reach her luscious, full breast. I run my thumb in gentle circles, delighting in her arching back, pressing herself into my palm.
“Annalise,” I sigh and she moans softly.
I dip my head to her other breast, tasting and sucking, lost to her body. Perhaps every bad thing I've done can be made up to her like this. I'll certainly try.
I tease her until she's sighing my name, the sound heavenly to my ears. Her hands run over my shoulders and I stiffen. The guilt moves swiftly into the vacant space in my chest.
I can't have her touching me, pleasuring me. If I do this just for her, then I think I can handle the guilt.
“Hands above your head,” I demand. “Don't touch me.”
She inhales a little gasp but complies all the same.
I take hold of her hips, pushing up between her thighs. Her hands are clasped together in a knot, resting on the pillow above her.
“Are you sure you want this?” I confirm, rolling a condom down my length before positioning myself for her.
“I do.” She bites her lip, swaying her hips in encouragement.
“Even if I'm the bad guy?” I murmur close to her ear.
“You're not the bad guy, Ethan,” she insists. “But if you were, I'd want you anyway.”
A desperate desire unfurls in my chest and a low growl rolls up my throat. Without another thought, I thrust my hips hard.
She moans: a soft, seductive noise that sends a spike of energy through my body.
I give everything to her, forgetting how wrong this is, focussing entirely on making her feel good. I suck her neck, rotating my hips and driving into her, slow and rhythmic. Her body is a haven of comfort, stealing all of my dark thoughts, saving me from myself.
I surround her, lifting my body to rub her clit, driving her wild as she writhes beneath me. I still her hips, pushing into her, running my fingertips up her sides.
I taste her mouth at last, moaning my delight between her lips, exploring her tongue with mine. Her arms lift to touch me and I push them firmly back down, distracting her with a hard thrust of my hips.
I work slow and relentless until she splits apart beneath me, her back arching, tilting her chin up, sighing my name.
I could take what I need from her now. I'm aching to do so, but knowing how much this girl deserves of me, I don't. Instead, I pull out of her, moving down her body and laying my arms on her thighs.
Her stomach firms as I drop my mouth to her heated, straining slit. I kiss and suck her, sliding two fingers into her tight hole, making her hips buck.
“Ethan!”
I suck her softly, knowing she's sensitive.
“I can't,” she begs, pressing herself into the mattress, trying to escape my mouth.
“You can,” I growl against her before using the tip of my tongue, barely grazing her throbbing, twitching clit.
She cries out, lifting her thighs in a smooth movement. I lock my arms around them, my biceps gripping her tightly, holding her in place. I'm drowning in dark thoughts, stealing her taste, stealing her body.
I don't relent, ever so softly bringing her to climax again. Her legs squeeze me and she gasps, half sitting up, moaning, clawing her fingers into my hair.
I savour her orgasm, licking her until she falls back onto the bed.
I kneel up, gazing at her, her hair fanned around her on the pillows, her chest heaving.
“Ethan.” She reaches forward blindly, searching for me.
I wind my fingers into hers, grazing my lips over her knuckles. Her other hand roams lower and I'm overcome by desire, rearing over her, letting her take my large shaft in her fist.
She sucks her lip, rubbing me softly until I'm groaning, my abs tightened to rock as I fight the urge to come.
“Take me,” she begs, tugging me forward by the cock.
A lump rises in my throat.
I survey her, knowing I shouldn't do this. But overwhelmed by the urge to fill her with myself, to lay a permanent claim on her.
I drop down in decision, slamming into her, the animal inside me unleashing.
“Fuck!” she cries and I'm spurred on, her legs locking around my waist.
I'm lost, more beast than man, fucking her until I come undone, reaching inside her as far as I can before stilling in ecstasy.
I grunt in pleasure, holding her wrists above her head, forcing her thighs wider as I flatten her to the bed. I'm in nirvana, taking from her what I don't deserve but too possessed by her body to care.
She gasps, inhaling my own ragged breaths as I hover above her mouth.
“Oh Ethan, Ethan,” she breathes in disbelief.
I'm hit with guilt for succumbing to my urges, the feeling stabbing straight to my chest.
I roll off her, my ribs heaving as I lay, catching my breath, trying to justify this in my head.
What will she say when she finds out what you are? When she learns she let a monster into her body?
Annalise pushes the blindfold up, glancing at me. I keep my eyes firmly diverted, not wanting to face those amber irises.
Sicko. You fucked someone who looks like the girl you killed. What does that make you?
“Ethan, that was...” she trails off and I remain silent, my throat drying out.
She rolls toward me, her body higher than mine so she cradles my head to her chest.
I move into the sweet scent of her, drawn to the safety of her arms, the lack of judgement, her temporary gratitude to me for sating her needs.
I lose myself in her hold, resting my cheek on her breasts, her skin salty on my lips.
She sighs contentedly, soothing me with the sound. I let myself relax, drifting toward sleep with my arms around her waist.
I know I'm on borrowed time. I know we're a sandcastle, waiting for the tide to come in. But I have the rest of my life to feel guilty, so right now, I'm going to pretend this is forever.
⊱✿ ✿⊰
I'm being dragged by the neck, a hand clamped around my collar as I scrape my fingernails across the floorboards.
“Wait-” I try but there's blood in my mouth, my tongue swollen.
“Pathetic waste of space.” He releases me, his boot pressing down on my spine. “Say it!”
“Waste of space,” I manage, gasping, spitting blood.
The weight of a 150 kilo man presses down on my back, my bones cracking. “Little fuck-up. Who do you think you are? You took cash from me, didn't you? How much did you take?”
“Nothing,” I gasp. And I'm telling the truth. I didn't take anything. I wouldn't dare to.
But that doesn't matter to him. He just wants an excuse to beat me. He probably spent the money himself, dru
nk, betting on some 100 to 1 horse at the bookies.
“Lying scum- say it!”
“I'm a liar. I'm scum,” I wheeze, my lungs compressing from his weight.
Fingers slide into my hair, pulling back, wrenching my neck up. And I know, with a terrifying certainty, that this is going to hurt.
Bird song wakes me and I roll toward it, trying to claw my way out of the nightmare. A robin sits on the windowsill, escaping the morning drizzle that sweeps through the street below. The vivid red of its breast seems like the only colour in the grey world beyond the pane. Red as blood.
Hands tighten on me and I jerk fully awake, the memories of last night returning in a wave.
“Ethan,” Annalise mumbles sleepily.
I turn into her arms, a cold sliver of ice planting in my chest at the sight of her eyes.
I'll never be able to look into them without seeing her.
Panic invades me.
I need to go. I shouldn't have done this.
I detach myself from her arms, slipping away, pulling on my boxers and jeans. When I turn to face her, she's eyeing me with a dejected acceptance.
“Will I see you again?” she asks, her voice void of warmth.
I drop my eyes, finding my shirt and tugging it over my head. “No.”
She nods, tonguing her cheek, looking bitter. “You can let yourself out.”
I pause, pain spiking through my heart. “I'm sorry.”
Just leave. You've done enough damage, creep.
She lets out a tsk noise, rolling over, pulling the quilt over her bare shoulder.
I watch her, the silence stretching on. And the longer I stand there, the more I become that monster again, leering through a window, stealing glances of her at a cafe.
“Are you just going to stand there staring at me all day?” she snaps.
I take my keys and phone from the bedside table, tucking them into my back pocket. “It's hard not to stare when there is so much to look at.”
She sits up, glaring at me, those eyes slicing through to my soul.
My arms hang limply at my sides. I'm disarmed, spying flames in the corners of my eyes.
“You fucked me like you were in love with me, do you know that?” she demands, her expression deadly.
I shake my head in denial. I can't love, according to Clarissa.
“Who fucks someone like that when they barely know them?”
My gut twists tightly, convulsing. What does she know? Has she worked it out?
“I'm sorry,” I repeat quickly.
She frowns, looking utterly perplexed.
After a beat, her guard drops, her expression softening. “I didn't mean...oh Ethan. Why are you walking away from this? You feel it too, don't you? We have a connection.” She's laying herself bare for me, like she did last night, only this time she's giving me more than her body.
The only connection you have with her is the one you've conjured in your sick mind.
“A connection,” I echo, letting out a humourless laugh.
She shrinks from me, hurt.
I shut my eyes, regaining my thoughts. “Yes, we have a connection,” I confirm, unable to deny it. But it's one I've conjured, one I've somehow made her feel, too.
Fraud.
When I open my eyes, she's crawled closer, the sheets clutched to her body.
“Then don't go.”
I slide a hand under her chin, crouching low and drawing her into a kiss. I try to tell her with my mouth: I care for you deeply but I have to go. You're meant for someone better.
Psycho.
“Just say you'll call,” she whispers against my lips. “Even if you don't mean it.”
I nod, briefly resting my forehead against hers. “I'll call you.”
Standing, I exit the room, heading away before I'm lured back into the sanctuary of her body.
Last night was euphoric. She moved like she was made for me; every stroke, every kiss, every touch. She was divine and I worshipped her over and over.
Rotten. Impure. Scum.
I don't head home, instead taking out the card Clarissa gave me and calling her.
“Ethan?” she answers promptly.
“Can I see you today?”
“Of course. Is everything alright?”
“Yes. No. I'm not sure.” I scrape a hand over my jaw, the stubble harsh against my palm.
“Come to the office. I'll move my next client.”
I nod, thanking her before hanging up.
I take the tube, not bothering to go home and shower first. I probably should have. What if my scent gives me away? I sniff my shirt on the train, rewarding me with a snigger from a couple of teenagers in school uniform. I glower at them in return, not caring what they think.
The scent of her fills my senses and my mouth waters.
I shouldn't smell like her. This is very bad.
As I arrive at the station, I push through the throng of people. A woman catches my eye, batting her lashes, her cheeks turning the colour of rose petals.
I slip off the train, realising it's been years since anyone looked at me like that. Am I getting back to my old self?
Ha.
I run my fingers through my hair. I might look like myself again, but inside, I'm broken. A shiny apple with a rotten core.
I head to Clarissa's office and when I arrive, feel more anxious than ever.
Sweat beads on my forehead as I enter the room.
What have I done? What the fuck have I done?
Clarissa gestures for me to sit. She's clad in all black today, her crimson hair wound into an intricate plait.
“Thank you for seeing me, “ I mutter, dropping onto the sofa.
“Not a problem. What would you like to discuss?” She lifts the notepad onto her knee, surveying me evenly.
I come undone, my stomach convulsing. What can I say? How can I discuss this?
“I had another dream.”
She nods, waiting for me to continue.
“I fucked her.” Best to get right to the point.
Her eyes widen briefly then she nods, making a note.
What the fuck is she writing?!
I shift in my seat, chewing the inside of my lip.
“What was it like? Were you forceful, for example?”
My gut reels. “No! Of course not. I made love to her.” I cringe. I should not have used that word.
Shoulda coulda woulda.
“Made love? Are you sure? What was it like, describe it.”
A golf ball-sized lump forces its way up my throat. I shift again. “I was gentle. She enjoyed it. But her eyes...I couldn't look at them. I had to cover her eyes.”
“With what?”
“Is that really important?” I spit, losing it.
She regards me with a look that says 'I'll be the judge of that'.
“A scarf.”
“A blindfold,” she corrects, pressing her lips together. “That's bondage. Not making love.”
I shake my head vigorously. “It wasn't like that.”
“Were her hands tied?” she asks, lifting that degrading little brow.
I grind my jaw, remaining silent.
“Ethan, I can't help you if you aren't honest with me.”
“I made her hold them above her head.”
She nods knowingly. “Your delusions are growing out of hand. I think it's time you sought medical help.” She flips the page on her pad, scribbling something down. “I'm going to refer you for a prescription.”
I swallow, trying to force down the lump. “Like, drugs?”
“Yes, Ethan. The good kind. They'll help with your psychotic episodes.”
I shrink from her words. “Psychotic?”
“You're having visions about forcing the object of your obsession to have intercourse with you. I'm afraid it's time further action was taken.”
Shit it's worse than that. So much worse.
I can't breathe, my shoulders tense as I claw a hand into my hair. “If you th
ink that's what's best.”
“I do,” she says promptly.
I nod, trying to get my head around the idea. I had a psychological evaluation done when I came home from Iraq. The results were normal. What the fuck happened?
“I won't start you on anything drastic. Just a pill to help with your anxiety, keep your urges at bay.”
My urges. Fuck. It's too late for that.
Nasty, fucked-up sicko.
I start to sweat, a wave of cold washing over me.
“And I think it's time she was informed of who you are, for her own safety.”
I stand up, pacing, desperate. “Couldn't we leave it a while longer? The drugs might help.” I round on her, halting. “Please, Clarissa.”
She tilts her head to one side, observing me like a rat in a maze. “I'm only trying to do what's best for you.”
“Come on, don't do this to me.” I run a hand down the back of my neck, the feeling of barbed wire tightening around my heart.
She takes in a slow breath, deliberating my fate. “Alright. But if the medication doesn't help, further action will have to be taken.”
I nod, dropping onto my seat in relief.
“Now, tell me more about this dream.”
CLARISSA
Ethan's attachment to his obsession is growing too strong. I want to break it. I want to drag him back into my basement and beat it out of him. That little twisted fuck, I could force his fixation onto me if I had long enough.
If he keeps coming to my basement, eventually I'll break him in half and rip out the blackest part of his soul.
I want those sea-grey eyes looking at me with the adoration he has for her. For Annalise.
I'd like to see her for myself. If only there were a way to find her, to track her down and see what Ethan sees.
I sate myself that evening, bringing a new sub to the house.
“You'll respond to Pet, understand?” I bark at the newbie. He's huge, broad, a member of the armed unit of the police force. Or so he told me. Not that I give a fuck. This one talks to much.
“Pet. Sure, Mistress. You can call me whatever you want.”
He lets me strap him onto the frame. I face him the other way, exposing his tight buttocks to me. Reaching between his legs, I clamp his balls in a metal cage from my collection.
“Ah- fuck,” he gasps in surprise. “Man, this is going to be good I can tell. How long have you been doing this?”