by Charity B.
She holds up her fingers, obviously doing the math in her head. “Um…I’m eight—no, nineteen. And yeah, maybe a little…it’s only, Fink says it will take away my self-control…make things blurry. I don’t think I’d like that.”
Nineteen…technically she’s not old enough to drink, but I also have a stuffed corpse in my basement, so I can’t say I’m a stickler for obeying Mundane laws. Her eyes blaze, watching me add the last scoop of dry ice. “That’s only if you have too much. Just try it, if you don’t like it, then don’t finish it.”
Waiting for the ice to dissolve, I watch the white smoke float from the drinks, giving my dark kitchen an eerie feel. Hesitantly, she takes the cocktail from my hand, bringing it to her lips.
Her face twists up as she shudders. “This tastes weird...” she tries it again, “It’s kinda good though.”
“It’s called ‘Witch’s Heart.’”
She snorts which is probably the most adorable sound I’ve ever heard. “Well that’s dumb.” I raise an eyebrow at her honesty and grin at her immediate backpedaling. “I—I mean, it’s just, why would a witch’s heart be purple? A witch is only a person that practices a certain religion, right? So—” her eyes widen as they meet mine. “Oh, God, you didn’t name it did you? I’m sorry, it’s not—”
I touch her arm to get her to relax, and I’m not sure if I regret it or revel in the feel of her again. My heartbeat quickens as I attempt to keep my voice steady. “I didn’t name it, don’t worry.” I give her a smile, trying to coax one out of her. “Besides, you’re not wrong. It is kind of dumb.”
Her shoulders fall as the softest laugh releases from her lips. “Good.”
Slowly taking my hand away from her skin normalizes my pulse while my eyes travel across the wounds on her face. They look like they might still be sore, although they’re definitely healing. More than anything, I want to kiss over the scarring. Conjuring that image in my mind both disquiets and arouses me.
Sarah brings a hand up to her cheek. Her eyes are shimmery with what I worry are tears. “I know it’s ugly. It’s probably uncomfortable to look at.”
She turns away from me which upsets me greatly. I’m not even sure why exactly. Unconsciously, I find myself touching her again. Her warmth does something to me, akin to a drug. Gently, I rub my thumb over the cuts, forcing myself not to press my lips to them. I can’t. Touching her is already nearly too much.
I take her drink, placing it next to mine on the counter as I nod to the basement door. “Follow me, I want to show you something.”
The very second I say it, I wish I could take it back. I’d thought that maybe if she sees what I’ve done to Natasha, she’ll know I don’t find a single thing about her ugly. She knows what I do, so I’m not worried about scaring her, it’s just that this has become a very personal thing. I’m about to share intimacy with a living woman, regardless of the fact that it isn’t sexual.
Every step is harder to take than the last, and I become momentarily immobile when I feel her take my hand in her small one. Forcing one foot in front of the other, I lead her downstairs to my workroom.
She looks around with wide eyes at the taxidermy equipment and my various knickknacks. Her hand sets my skin ablaze, yet I squeeze tighter as I lead her to Natasha. I risk a glance at her to see her mouth in an O.
“This is Natasha. Well, her skin anyway.”
“Her mouth…” The sound of her whimsical voice loosens every one of my tense muscles. She understands without my having to explain.
Turning to me, she gives me the most beautiful smile, and in this moment, all I want to do is make sure it remains on her face. The sudden need to confess my true feelings about her situation chokes me, and yet, words seem insufficient. “You know…I’ve always hated the things Fink puts you through. I just…”
Her hand rests on my arm, lighting up every nerve in my body. “It’s all I know, John. I honestly don’t remember anything different.” The torment in her eyes makes it clear that her nonchalance and casual tone are just a ruse. What I don’t know is whether it’s for her benefit or mine. “Besides, it’s not as if there’s anything you can do about it.” Glancing next to us, she asks, “What’s that?”
My eyes follow her gaze to my work table. “Shit!” Dropping her hand, I rush to the skin resting on the rock. I completely forgot about it. The flesh has started to cook, turning tough and dark. Damn it. I sigh and toss it into the container that I bring to Mammoth’s morgue every month to burn in his crematorium.
“What is it you’re doing exactly? I know that’s why you came to Fink’s the other day. You’re trying to figure something out.” I wish so badly that I was wearing my paint so I could hide behind Skeleton King. I’m too embarrassed to admit that she inspired my endeavor for heat. She quirks an eyebrow, and I frantically search my mind for words, any words just to form a sentence when she continues, “Why do you prefer dead girls?”
Each question that springs from her lips makes me more rigid. As the moisture on my tongue evaporates, my voice comes out scratchy and rough. “They’re less…complicated.” While it’s a gross oversimplification, it’s the best I can come up with in the moment.
Her eyes continue to roam my workshop as she fiddles with a loose thread on her dress. “Can I ask you something else?”
I’m terrified of what she will try to pry from me, yet I find myself nodding.
“Will you bring me down here? When I die, I mean?”
My skin flames as my stomach lurches into my throat. Recoiling back from her, I shake my head. How could she think that? I would never defile her in that way, never once have I even entertained the thought. I can’t imagine destroying her beautiful body for my own perversions, and I hate that I made her fear that. “No! Of course not, Sarah.”
Her eyes fall to the floor as she tenses. Crossing her arms, she murmurs, “Oh.”
Instead of being relieved by my response, she seems hurt. I shake my head because this is exactly why I can’t be with living women. They don’t make any damn sense. “I could never desecrate you like that.” I’m not speaking loudly, though, in the still silence of the room, it’s heard as clear as glass.
Tilting her head, she scrunches her eyebrows, “John, I’m asking you to.” Her arms fall to her sides as she holds out her hands. “I want you to…be with me.”
The hammering of my heart makes me nauseous. I can feel my head shaking before I’m able to speak. The very idea is a source of nightmares.
“No,” I say harsher than intended.
Just speaking of this makes me feel cut open and exposed. Vulnerable. Even with my fear of her saying that I repulse her, I ride the overwhelming ache to feel more of her. The lump in my throat rolls into my chest as I cup her neck at the base of her jaw. Her pulse thumps beneath my fingers, and I shudder while fighting every alarm bell in my brain. Softly tracing my thumb across her jaw, I lean forward, kissing her hard before I change my mind. The sensation of her lips moving against mine has me gasping into her mouth. Her fingers clench at my shirt, and when she presses her body against mine, her heat seeps through my clothes. Even as my aching, solid cock pushes against her stomach, she doesn’t pull away.
Breaking our kiss, I whisper through heavy breathing, “I don’t want you cold.” She blinks a few times, stuttered puffs of air coming from her lips. I’d never noticed the pretty, light freckles sprinkled across her nose before. Panic constricts my chest as I finish my confession. “I want you just like this.”
Spiderwebs
Sarah Stein
November 15th ~ Evening
It feels like bugs are crawling around inside my stomach. John Skelver just kissed me. His words shuffle in my brain, trying to get organized so they make sense. Is he saying what I think he is? I raise my eyebrow, scared to hope so.
“Alive?”
His eyes keep falling to my mouth as his face twists into a tortured expression. I barely notice his subtle nod with how heavy he’s breathing.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper
He looks behind him to the stairs. “I don’t know if I can—” Shaking his head, he grabs my hand, squeezing my fingers so hard that they crush together. “Come on.”
Urgency seems to overtake him as he runs up the steps, dragging me behind him. His shoes are loud on the floor as he pulls me through the main level to a spiral staircase. Nothing makes noises in his sleep when we pass him on the way to the top of the house.
Climbing off the final step, I gasp at the room in front of me. A large window makes up part of the curved wall, the lowering sun shining across all of Hallows Grove, giving an orange glow to the space and streaking across a massive, round bed sitting in the center.
“Wow. Is this your bedroom?”
I bite my lip as his fingers comb the hair from my face. His body is so close, his eyes searching for something in mine. “No. It’s a place I come to think and occasionally to sleep. I’ve never been with any person, dead or alive in here.” He deeply inhales before continuing, “Do you really want this? With me?” Stepping back, he keeps his hands on my arms. “Do I not disgust you?”
His question makes me terribly sad. It’s crushing that he’d even think that. I softly touch my fingers over his mouth that I so desperately desire to kiss again. His dark eyes look so sad beneath his thick, long lashes. “I’ve wanted you for years, John. Not Skeleton King, not who everyone thinks you are. You.”
I move my hand to his cheek where he leans in to my touch, his eyes closed tight. “I’m scared,” he whispers.
“Why?”
After several long moments, his gaze finally meets mine. “Because you’re breathing.”
The confession stuns me. His decision to be with the dead stems from insecurity, not longing. Just as I open my mouth to tell him that he has nothing to be afraid of with me, my words are snuffed out by a kiss. His hands travel to my waist, lifting me up as I wrap my legs around him. I hold him firmly while he carries me to the bed, his lips constantly on my flesh. As he lays me down, his fingers slide up my thighs, giving me a rush I’ve never known. The anticipation is crippling. I can’t grasp that I’m really here.
“This is okay, right?” The question comes out gravelly as his erection presses against my leg through his pants.
I reach up to smooth his scrunched brows. “This is perfect. Just keep going.”
He fights to make eye contact, his voice wavering with uncertainty. “Will you tell me what you like? I…I honestly don’t know.”
His desperation for my approval makes arousal pool between my thighs. I reach for his hand, his breath hitching while my heart thrashes wildly at my ability to control this situation. He doesn’t break his stare as I show him where I want his touch.
“This feels good,” I tell him, pressing the pad of his pointer finger over my panties and moving it to rub my clit.
I thrust against his hand, showing him the tempo that I like. Taking a hold of his finger, I guide it beneath my panties.
He gasps, flinching once I push his thick digit inside. “Oh fuck, you’re so warm,” My stomach bubbles as he lowers his head, groaning against my chest. “So goddamn warm.” The awe in his voice sends tingles all the way to my toes. Looking down reveals his cock straining in his jeans, so I release his hand to rub over the denim. As he continues moving his finger, his eyes explore my body. Rocking faster against his touch, I look up as the evening sun catches a spiderweb stretched across the corner of the ceiling. Its beauty is unexpected. Much like John’s. “Shit.” He stills above me. “This is intense, I don’t know if I can…”
His jaw ticks beneath my palm when I gently touch his face. He’s questioning this, and I can’t let that happen. Reaching between us, I pop open the button on his pants and lower his zipper. The skin around his cock isn’t loose like Ingvar’s, allowing my thumb to rub over the raised flesh of his tip. My fingers are unable to reach fully around his shaft, meaning he’s larger than Fink or Ingvar and it might be painful to have him inside me. Even if it is, it doesn’t matter, all the pain in the world is worth him touching me. He throbs in my hand and as soon as I tighten my grip, his chest rises as if he’s holding his breath. With a gentle touch, I stroke him, bringing my lips to his ear. “Please don’t be afraid. This is all I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember.”
He suddenly thrusts his hips, fucking my fist as he breathes out, “Okay.” Lowering his gaze, he watches me pump him. “Jesus, Sarah…”
I’m the only girl in the whole world that has ever had the opportunity to show him how good someone living can make him feel, and I have every intention of taking advantage of that. “Will you lie on your back?”
His full lips lift into a smile as he climbs off of me. He tears the clothes from his body, revealing golden skin and the sharp lines that define his muscles. I snap my mouth shut once I realize it’s fallen open from gaping at him. I’ve never seen someone so…solid. Grave digging is an effective work out, apparently.
Slowly lifting his eyes to mine, he rubs the back of his neck. I hate that he isn’t more comfortable. I’m truly grateful that this is happening at all, I just also need him to know I mean what I say. “You’re perfect to me. You always have been.”
A grin that brightens his face and reveals his dimples tightens me to my core. While he’s always been gorgeous, his smile makes him look ethereal.
His eagerness is back when he climbs on the bed, lying down like I asked. This is nothing like it is with Fink and Ingvar. I want this, and for once, I have the choice. The control. It’s intoxicating.
Crawling between his legs, I grip him in my hand, spitting on his shaft to add lubrication. When I pick up my pace, he arches his back and fists the sheets. “No one has ever done this to me before…Oh, God.”
His reaction to my touch is a heady feeling. And being his first living girl is an honor I can’t even fully grasp. I know how paramount this is. I swear right now that I will make this an unforgettable experience for him. Then maybe, just maybe, he’ll want to do it again.
He keeps his eyes closed as I wrap my mouth around his tip, taking him in slowly because my cheeks are still a little tender.
“What are you doing?!” I instantly stop, shifting my eyes up to him because I can’t tell if he’s angry. Did I cross a line? “Aren’t you still healing?”
Continuing to jerk him, I smile at his concern. “I’m fine, Fink makes me do this all the time.”
He glares at me. Shit. Was mentioning Fink bad?
“I’m going to talk to him—”
“NO!” I yell before covering my mouth at my outburst. “I’m sorry, but Fink cannot know about this.” I keep my hand moving up and down his erection while I hate myself for bringing my captor into this. “Can we just not talk about him?”
The moment he nods, I take him back into my mouth, feeling his body tense beneath me. Eventually he relaxes as his hands tangle in my hair and grip my head. I’m touched by the obvious restraint he’s using with his thrusts. He doesn’t want to hurt me.
“Shit. Your mouth is so hot, I don’t know how much longer I can last.”
I need to feel him inside of me before I go home. I need this to fantasize about when I’m with Fink and Ingvar. Slowly sliding my mouth off of him, I kiss the tip before lifting my patchwork dress over my head. He stares at my chest before slowly reaching up to rub his thumb across my nipple. Soft moans stutter from my lips as his large hands fondle my breasts.
Since I’m still wearing my boots and socks, I try not to scratch him with the heel when I bring my leg across to straddle him. My heart beats so hard, it seems to echo around me.
Wh
oosh.
Whoosh.
Whoosh.
Whoosh.
His own chest rises and falls quickly as he watches me move my panties to the side. The idea of leaving them here as something for him to think of me by creates a tickle in my belly. Ripping each of the sides allows them to fall to his stomach. His eyes flip up to mine, and he opens his mouth to speak, yet instead, he just licks his lips when I toss them to the floor.
I thrust against the side of his erection, lubricating him with my arousal. Shaking his head, his hands fly to my hips.
“Wait. What about a condom? Isn’t that important for…you?”
He’s stalling. He knows I’ve only been with Fink and Ingvar. For a split second, I question if I should keep going. What if he isn’t sure he wants to do this? My body screams for me to take his cock inside it, to feel him the way nobody else with a pulse ever has, but my heart needs to know he truly wants this.
Moaning from the friction caused by rubbing myself against his length, I lean forward to press our mouths together. His instant response makes me giddy.
I cup his face and whisper, “I don’t want to push you into anything. This is about both of us. Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.”
He squeezes the back of my neck, pressing our foreheads together. “I swear, in this moment, I want this more than anything.”
My smile is impossible to erase. He kisses me again before allowing me to sit up, watching intently as I slip the tip into my entrance. His head falls back while I take him deeper, his fingers clawing into my waist as I adjust to his size.
“Holy shit,” he moans with his first few thrusts. A soft laugh releases from my lips, and he gives me an ornery smile. “This is fucking amazing.”