Page 73 of Porcelain Grave

I scramble back, my shoulder hitting the iron-bound door with a thud. I look past him, and the roar of the flames is getting louder, the heat beginning to sear the air.

"The fire!" I scream, gesturing wildly behind him. "You've started a fucking blaze, Rhys! We're in a tunnel full of old wood and wax—we could burn alive in here! Are you fucking insane?"

He lets out a soft, melodic laugh, a sound of complete and utter psychotic detachment. He doesn't even look back at the wall of orange death consuming the corridor.

"Then we'll burn, Ophelia," he purrs, his eyes shimmering with a manic light. "What a poetic way to go, don't you think? Reduced to ash and bone, locked in an eternal embrace while the world turns to cinder around us. I’d gladly watch the skin melt off my own fucking bones if it meant you were screaming my name while it happened."

I turn away from him, desperation overriding everything. I grab the handle of the door and yank it with every ounce of strength I have left. I throw my body against the wood, sobbing, scratching at the frame.

"HELP!" I scream, the sound echoing through the stone tunnels. "SOMEONE HELP ME! PLEASE! ANYONE!"

I’m hysterical now, my voice echoing back at me, mocking me. I’m trapped in a tomb with a madman, and the exit is a fucking wall.

Suddenly, I feel it.

A hand, large and possessive, slides beneath the hem of my skirt. His fingers dive straight for my knickers, his touch bold and demanding. He doesn't hesitate; he finds my clit and presses firmly, rubbing in a slow, agonizing circle.

I gasp, my back arching against the door. Despite the terror, despite the screaming and the fire, my body betrays me. I’m soaking wet, my pussy throbbing and leaking for him even as I tremble in fear.

Rhys lets out a dark, guttural chuckle, feeling the moisture on his fingertips.

"Look at that," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust and obsession. "You're terrified out of your fucking mind, sobbing for help, and yet you're dripping for me. Your body knows exactly who you belong to, Ophelia. It doesn't give a toss about the fire or the door. It just wants its master."

"Help me!" I scream again, though it sounds more like a moan now.

"Scream louder, love," he commands, his voice dropping to a filthy, authoritative growl. "Call for help. Scream until your throat bleeds. I want the whole fucking world to know how much you're suffering while I take you."

As he speaks, his other hand grips the collar of my dress, and with one violent, decisive tug, he begins to strip me. Fabric rips, buttons fly, and the cool air of the tunnel hits my skin just before the oppressive heat of the fire rushes in to replace it. He’s undressing me with a frantic, starving energy, as if he can't get me naked fast enough.

"You're a fucking sadist!" I sob, clutching at his shoulders as he pushes me harder against the locked door.

He pauses for a second, his face inches from mine, his expression one of pure, unadulterated devotion mixed with madness.

"I'm not a sadist, Ophelia," he whispers, his lips brushing against mine, tasting of smoke and obsession. "I'm just a man who loves you enough to break every single piece of you until you're the only thing I can hold onto. Now shut up and take it.”

The last remnants of my clothes are shredded, ripped away by his frantic, starving hands until there is nothing left but skin and shivering nerves. I am completely naked, exposed and trembling in the oppressive heat of the tunnel, the air thick with the scent of ozone, old dust, and the encroaching roar of the blaze.

His clothes are discarded too.

Rhys doesn't just touch me; he claims me with a violence that is almost religious. He grabs my thighs, hoisting me up with a grunt of effort, slamming my back against the cold, iron-bound wood of the locked door. I gasp, my legs instinctively locking around his waist, my ankles crossing behind his back to keep me suspended. I am held up at his level, my chest heaving against his, our hearts hammering in a synchronized, psychotic rhythm.

Then, he drives into me.

He doesn't ease in. He doesn't tease. He plunges into my soaking wet pussy with one brutal, devastating thrust that bottoms out, hitting my cervix with a force that makes my vision blur. I scream, a sound that is half-terror and half-ecstasy, my head snapping back against the door.

"Look at me!" he bellows, his voice a raw, jagged edge of madness. "Look at me, Ophelia!”

I force my eyes open, staring directly into his. His pupils are blown wide, swallowing the iris, shimmering with a manic, predatory light. He looks completely out of his mind, a man possessed by a hunger that could consume the entire world. He begins to move, and it is relentless. He isn't just fucking me; he is trying to destroy me, to merge our souls through sheer, physical friction.

And I am screaming his name.

His thrusts are deep, fast, and punishing. Each strike is a collision, a rhythmic slamming of flesh against flesh that echoes through the corridor. I can feel every inch of his thick cock stretching me open, filling me to the point of bursting. I am shaking violently, my fingers digging into his shoulders, my nails drawing blood through his skin.

"You're my masterpiece, you beautiful, broken thing!" he snarls, his face twisting into a grin that is both terrifying and intoxicating. "I'll carve my name into your fucking soul so that even in hell, the devil cannot take you from me!"

The fire is no longer just a sound; it is a wall of orange and gold, screaming behind him. The heat is blistering, searing the skin of my back and the back of his legs. The air is shimmering, distorted by the inferno that is eating the tunnel alive. We are trapped in a pocket of oxygen and madness, the flames licking at the edges of our sanctuary, turning the stone walls into an oven.

I am losing my mind. The fear of the fire, the terror of his obsession, and the overwhelming, electric pleasure of his cock driving into me create a cocktail of sensation that is too much to bear. I am sobbing, my voice a wrecked whisper, calling his name like a prayer to a dark god.