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I tremble when I feel the backs of his knuckles brush the nape of my neck before his lips touch the skin briefly.
Somehow, I can feel his presence sliding back into the dark hole from which it came.
I slip on the un-shredded dress as best as I can in the dark, then pick up the heels. I start to walk slowly, my arms stretched in front of me like a lunatic as I count the steps.
Thirty-one…
Thirty-two…
I gasp when my fingertips brush the metal banister. I fumble my way onto the first step. When my hand brushes over the light switch, I pause.
I shouldn’t.
I do.
Even though they’re dim, I still wince painfully as the moody, low floor lights glow to life once again. Slowly, I turn around.
Sweet Jesus.
He’s sitting on the floor, his back against the leather couch with one knee bent up. His arm rests lazily on it, his grooved, hard body looking like a fucking sculpture of sin in the low light.
He’s still very, very hard.
He leers at me, grinning a maniacal, psychotic smile as he sprawls against the couch, blood and cum on his mouth, looking like a feral animal.
The gold fangs of the mask gleam as his eyes burn into mine. He lazily raises the hand draped over his knee, brings a finger to his lips, and sucks it clean.
“Be seeing you, kitten.”
18
GABRIEL
I allow myself to rest where I am for a moment, relishing the throb in my veins as the hunger abates.
A little, anyway.
My muscles quiver, like a tiger after a chase. My cock is swollen and sore, still dripping cum as my pulse hums in my ears. My tongue drags across my lower lip, tasting my prey as the darkness roars inside, demanding
more more more
It’s never been like that before. And I mean never. I’ve never found an equal in my depravity and my darkness like my kitten.
I should be angry. She ruined my fantasy, rendered it obso-fucking-lete the moment she turned the reality of hunting and chasing her into something a fantasy couldn’t ever touch. Something so much better it’s almost infuriating.
She’s satisfied a hunger I’ve never been able to feed.
Scratched an itch I’ve never been able to reach.
Lit a black fire inside that will not ever be going out.
There’s a very Pinterest-y saying you see on lame t-shirts that goes something along the lines of “inside each of us, there are two wolves” and then on the next line something equally as asinine, like “which one will you feed.”
I mean, come on.
There is no good wolf and bad wolf coexisting in me, both fighting for my affection and attention. There’s not one wolf that wants me to succeed and one that wants me to fail.
There are just two bad wolves within me. One is bad because he wants to rip out throats. And the other is bad because he’s, in almost every classifiable way, a sexual deviant. Someone who gets off on chasing a woman down, pinning her to the floor and forcing his cock into her tight little holes. On squeezing his rock-hard dick into her pussy while she screams and thrashes and squirms.
