Dirty Dark Desire: A Dark Erotic Standalone

by Lacey Alpha

  I kneel before him, unbuckling it and plucking it from his lips. “How are you today, Pet?” I stroke his hair, running my fingers through the sweaty strands.

  He pants, saliva dripping from his open mouth. “Good, Mistress Ginger. Good now you're here.”

  I pull his head to my chest and he rests against me. I run my fingers down his bare spine. “Are you hungry, Pet?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “I'll get you something to eat.”

  He nods, laying his weight on me. “I've been thinking about you.”

  “What have you been thinking?” I purr.

  “How much I adore you.” His voice his raspy and dry. I hand him the bottle of water, holding it to his lips.

  He tilts his head back, drinking the whole thing.

  I sit back on my heels. “Would you like to be punished today?”

  His body trembles.

  His facial hair is getting long again. I'll need to shave it soon.

  “Yes, Mistress,” he breathes, a note of fear in his voice.

  I relish his tone. This man is mine. Completely. I carved out the hatred in his heart and turned it into fixation. He adores me now the way I adored him. I relish the fact. It's the perfect justice.

  “Do you remember when you hated me, Nick?” I use his name, causing him to wince. I beat him until it no longer belonged to him. And now it pains him, his own name. I've taken everything from him, like he did from me.

  “Yes, Mistress,” he breathes.

  I want to pluck the memories from his head with a tweezer, like pulling out the greys. There is still a ways to go with him yet. I swore I'd make this slow on him. And I have. And when there's nothing left of him to break, I'll silence him for good.

  ANNALISE

  Fate is a million raindrops, gathering in a pool. And one day, it will spill over, and everything you've ever wanted will arrive all at once.

  But nothing is how you expect it to be. I always had faith, that I'd find the man for me. And though I barely know him at all, for some reason, I believe it's Ethan.

  There's something to be said for instincts, they've always guided me in what to do. And that's why, as I pace around the local park and spot Ethan marching up the street across from me, I decide to follow him.

  My gut trickles with anxiety as I head out of the park after him, praying he won't look back.

  He seems unfocused, his shoulders stiff, his head hanging low. Where has he been?

  My heart beats like mad against my ribcage, adrenaline sweeping through my veins. I know this is wrong, I know I'm acting insane, but I have to know what he's hiding. I should have let him explain, I think he was going to. But I panicked. I couldn't hear it. But now...

  I try to soothe my nerves, talking myself into this. If he spotted me, I'd have a perfectly good reason for being here. It's my neighbourhood too. Though I imagine he expects me to be at my interview right about now. Unfortunately for me, it was cancelled last minute by my interviewer Clarissa Sinclair. From the research I've done, I know she's the best in her field, so I imagine she's a busy woman. But to drop my interview at such late notice just seems so unprofessional. And she couldn't even schedule me in for a whole other week.

  Ethan walks two blocks before halting, taking out a key and jogging up some stone steps to a door. I eye the building. It's red brick with black-rimmed windows. It's three floors high, and I wonder vaguely which flat is his.

  As he slips out of sight, I'm overcome with the urge to knock on his door and demand answers.

  If he doesn't plan on seeing me again anyway, I don't see what harm it can do.

  Walking across the road filled with purpose, I march up the steps and eye the intercom.

  There's a surname on each one.

  1 Dalton

  2 Jones

  3 Harding

  Damn. What's his surname?

  Shrugging, I bash my hand against all three names.

  Hopefully the other people are out, but knowing my luck, they won't be.

  “Hello?” Ethan answers, sounding surprised that anyone in the world would be knocking on his door.

  My heart nearly strangles me, my breathing increasing. “Oh – hi. It's me. Annalise.”

  I bite my lip awkwardly.

  After a long pause, the door buzzes, clicking open.

  I push inside, trying to come up with an excuse for why I followed him home.

  I have none.

  The truth it is then.

  As I reach the top floor, panting a little from the flights of stairs, I find Ethan waiting for me, leaning against the door frame.

  He frowns, rubbing the stubble on his jaw.

  “I saw you near the park and...followed you home,” I say quickly before he has to ask. Better he finds out I stalked him sooner rather than later...

  “You did?” he asks, his eyes widening.

  I nod, raising my hand to my mouth and biting my nails.

  He turns, walking into his apartment and leaving the door open for me.

  I tentatively step inside, his manly scent filling the air. I have a vision of all of this working out, of Ethan revealing what he's hiding, finding out it isn't so bad and us making love all night long. I grit my teeth, halting my imaginings before I get carried away.

  I step into the enormous studio, the brickwork exposed on the walls, most of the kitchen space taken up by a low-lit bar.

  It's such a 'man-pad'. I can practically taste the testosterone in the place.

  I stand awkwardly near the door, unsure of where to go.

  Ethan grabs a beer from the fridge and raises it to me. “Want one?”

  I shake my head, giving him a brief smile.

  He cracks it open with his teeth and takes a large swig.

  Jeez. Talk about manly.

  “I'm sorry I followed you,” I mutter vaguely, unsure what else to say.

  “Trust me, it's really not an issue.” He drinks more beer, moving to the edge of the bar and leaning against it. He seems sombre, his movements slow.

  He shifts his hips, wincing.

  I step closer, concerned. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Fine.” He moves across the room, his shoulders rigid. “Is there something you came here to talk about?”

  I fold my arms, readying the words in my mind. “Actually, I want an explanation.” I plant my feet. “And I'm not leaving here until I get one.”

  “Oh really?” he drops down onto his bed, picking up a TV remote and turning on a flat screen that appears from the bottom of the bed.

  Wow. Fancy.

  “Yes, really,” I insist.

  “Fine by me.” He shrugs, lifting his hands and laying them behind his head, his muscles bulging out of his t-shirt.

  My mouth goes dry, a vision of his naked body heaving above me springing to mind.

  I guess I'm staying then.

  I drift around the apartment, taking it in, seeing as he doesn't seem to mind my probing. I approach a dark ash wood desk, running my thumb along the edge. A leather bound book catches my eye and I trail my fingers over it, intrigued. With a jolt, I realise this must be the journal he mentioned.

  “Don't.” His harsh tone sounds across the room, making my spine straighten.

  My fingers linger a little longer on the cover, curiosity burning through me.

  “Please,” his voice becomes a pained whisper, filled with desperation.

  I extract my hand. Whatever it is he writes about, I guess it's not for my eyes. But I'd give anything to look inside, to gain a glimpse inside his mind.

  I continue around the room, feeling his eyes on me all the while. By the time I'm done inspecting, I have no choice but to approach him, perching on the edge of the bed.

  I glance at what he's watching, recognising a scene from Die Hard.

  “So...” I start, turning to him.

  He raises a brow and I grow irritated.

  “Are you going to tell me the truth?”

  He frowns, his brows
shadowing his eyes. He pushes himself up, still seeming in pain.

  “Are you hurt?” my voice comes out as a whisper.

  He hesitates for a moment then nods. “Nothing I can't handle.”

  “What happened to you?” I pry, leaning closer, assessing him for injuries, trying to work it out.

  He remains silent, his mouth a flat line.

  Why won't he talk to me?

  Considering the mood he's in, I don't want to push him for an answer.

  As we sit in silence, I find myself drawn to him, my stomach knotting as I eye the sheet of stubble on his jaw, his slightly open mouth. I long to kiss him, to be held by his strong arms, to taste the darkness in him again.

  I crawl toward him and he reaches for me like he was thinking the same thing.

  He tilts his chin up as I lean over him, lightly laying my hand on his chest. I shut my eyes, hiding them from him, not risking him being scared away.

  His fingers reach into my hair and he guides my head down, pulling me to his mouth.

  His lips move soft on mine and I can sense he's holding back as if he's afraid he'll hurt me. But knowing he's injured somehow, I'm more afraid of hurting him.

  “Tell me what you're hiding,” I whisper against his mouth, hoping he'll give in at last.

  “If I did, you'd run away,” he says, his voice a low growl. “And I'm not ready for that.”

  He lifts his knees, encouraging me on top of him. I fall into place, scrambling for purchase as he holds me to him, crushing me, his hands everywhere.

  I'm scared of the truth. Part of me doesn't want to know. I just want to forget why I came here and give into him all over again. And I can feel my willpower ebbing away like the ocean tide.

  ETHAN

  My back is on fire. I shouldn't have let Clarrisa use the whip on me. Now the truth is branded on my skin. How can I hide this from Annalise?

  I'm overwhelmed that she's here, that she followed me for once.

  I'm not strong enough to resist her. It's like her name is carved into my heart. She owns my body, my dark soul. Whether she wants to or not.

  I press my hand to her lower back, roaming under her top, pressing her down as I lift my hips.

  She wants the truth. And I don't know how long it will be before I have to give it to her.

  I took four sedatives and I feel a whole lot more relaxed, but it's making my willpower lower than ever.

  She lays her knees either side of me, her skirt riding up her ivory thighs.

  “Lise,” I breathe against her silky lips. It's a warning, a prayer for strength, a longing to resist the temptation of her body.

  She runs her hands down my chest, pushing up so she's straddling me.

  “How did your interview go?” I try to distract her, holding her in place.

  She frowns, releasing a low breath. “It got moved to next week.”

  She keeps her eyes downcast, taking hold of the hem of my shirt.

  I grow for her, my hardness straining against my jeans.

  “Oh, I'm sorry,” I say, trying to concentrate on anything but the throbbing in my boxers.

  “It's okay,” she murmurs, tugging my shirt upwards, revealing the trail of hair disappearing beneath my jeans. I catch her wrists, halting her.

  If she takes my shirt off, she'll see what Clarissa did to me. There'll be more questions, more lies. I can't bear it.

  “Stand over there, face the wall,” I command, my breath quickening.

  She pauses, her hands trembling in my fist.

  My throat goes dry as she complies, swinging her legs over me, walking across the room and facing the exposed brickwork.

  I sit up, running a hand over my face, trying to get my shit together.

  Maybe I can still resist her...

  She fidgets by the wall, her hips swaying. I stand, my heart beating a frantic tune on my ribcage.

  Annalise whips her top off, unhooking her bra, sending a rush of heat up my length. I eye the little black and white check skirt she's wearing with desire. Hell, how can I resist?

  As she goes to remove it, I blurt, “Don't take it off.”

  I like that little skirt.

  Her hands halt, her thumbs tucked into the waistband.

  “Hands on the wall,” I instruct and she obeys, her back arching.

  I move close behind her, running my thumb down her spine in a slow, controlled movement, feeling every rivulet.

  She sighs and goosebumps dart over her skin. I lean forward, kissing her shoulder, causing more to rise. I work across her shoulder blades, taking hold of her hips as I graze my lips across her.

  She's sweet on my tongue and I'm soon hungering for more, nipping then biting, harder and harder.

  As I reach her throat, I sink my teeth in and she cries out.

  “Am I hurting you?” I growl, pressing closer to her, grazing my body against hers.

  “Yes, but I like it,” she gasps, rolling her neck.

  A thrill darts through me and I tug her hips back, rubbing my erection against her.

  “I don't want to hurt you,” I mutter in her ear, tugging it between my teeth.

  “I want you to,” she pants, rubbing her ass against me. “I want to know how far I can go.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push away the image of Clarrisa beating me in her basement. It suddenly seems more sexual, making my stomach writhe.

  The voice creeps in, sending a wave of nausea through me.

  Sicko. Hurting the girl you claim to care about.

  I step away, jamming my fingers into my eyelids.

  “Ethan?” her soft voice reaches into my chest, unfurling the fist that's tightened around my heart.

  “Just- don't move,” I mutter, stepping back.

  I tongue my cheek, surveying her curves, overcome with desire.

  I lift her skirt, tucking it above her hips, revealing her cheeks to me. They're perfectly round and smooth, the tight lines beneath them making my cock twitch.

  I raise my hand, wanting to give her what she wants.

  “Are you sure?” I growl and she nods, bracing herself.

  I take hold her of her knickers, sliding them down her legs and waiting whilst she steps out of them. Standing, I reach back and spank her with the full palm of my hand, making her jump in surprise.

  “Oh- fuck,” she exclaims.

  I wait, eyeing the perfect red outline of my hand on her right cheek, giving her time to absorb the sensation.

  “Do it again,” she demands and a lump lodges in my throat.

  I reach my arm back and smack her thigh.

  She moans, pressing her legs together. “Mm.”

  My breathing becomes ragged as I strike her again, my muscles bunching.

  Dirty, filthy, monster.

  I lose myself, hitting her again and again until she's red raw and moaning my name.

  When I can't take it any more, I tug myself free of my jeans, standing between her legs.

  She tilts her hips for me in anticipation and I take advantage, driving deep inside her.

  “Oh,” she moans, the sound giving me a rush.

  I take her forcefully, shutting my eyes, focusing on the sweet feel of her tightness around me.

  “Harder,” she begs and I give her everything I've got, pressing my hands to the wall either side of her.

  She succumbs to my power, going slack against the wall until I have to her hold her waist to keep her up.

  She moans and moans, the sound undoing me, bringing out the beast in me. I pound her until she's shaking, crying out, squeezing me as she comes apart.

  I sigh my relief soon after, dropping my head back, gazing at the slanted wood beams supporting the ceiling up above.

  She pushes back against me, giving me all of her body for my release.

  Pleasure pulses through me, pushing all thoughts from my mind, saving me from the dark voice that haunts me.

  I'm in bliss, surrounding her, caging her in with my arms, trapping her against
the wall as I claim her.

  “Oh Ethan,” she breathes as I pull out of her, tugging down her skirt.

  I grunt my approval, turning her and pulling her into my arms. I avoid her eyes, catching her mouth in a firm kiss before I see their amber glow.

  “You make me feel wild, Ethan. And I want to know how much wilder I can be.”

  Look what you've done to her.

  She circles her arms around me, running up my back, serving me with a sharp spike of pain from the wounds there.

  I wince, screwing up my eyes to try and suppress it.

  She gasps, extracting her hands, tugging at my shirt as she tries to get a look.

  I remove her searching fingers, glaring at her with a shake of my head. I fix my eyes on hers for half a second to show her I'm serious, leaving me with a raging fire in my chest.

  Can't even look her in the eye. What good are you to her?

  “Please, look at me,” she begs and I do, for her sake.

  There's pain in her eyes, but something more, something pure and impassioned. Something that terrifies me.

  “You can get over this,” she insists, cupping my cheek. “You can look at me.”

  I nod stiffly, feeling flames lick my arms, my neck, growing so hot it's like I'm standing in Iraq again, watching the girl be devoured by flames, witnessing the agony of her final moments.

  I stare at Annalise, unblinking, forcing myself to take it, hoping this could work the same way Clarissa's aversion therapy does.

  The pain is too much to bear and I soon have to drop my eyes.

  “It. Fucking. Kills me,” I snarl and she shrinks from my expression, slipping out of my arms.

  I gaze at the wall, unseeing, the heat in my veins receding.

  My shoulders drop and I sag against the bricks, a harsh headache forming behind my eyes.

  I should have told her to go when I found her outside my door. I shouldn't have let her stay.

  Shoulda. Coulda. Woulda.

  Her arms suddenly surround me, her cheek pressing to my back. “We'll figure this out.”

  “Oh, Lise,” I sigh, crumbling. How can she still want to stand here, fighting for me?

  “I want to ask you something,” she murmurs into my shirt, my skin stinging like fire. I grit my teeth, ignoring it, relishing her touch.