Page 122 of Florescentia

He grabbed the tendril around my neck, using it to pull me forward.

I dug my nails into his wrist, my fingers disappearing into it like he was made of slick.

“You couldn’t refuse even if you wanted,” he said. “You are danger-seeking to a fault.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but he thrust into me again. A yelp left me as he yanked me closer, using his grip on me to his advantage as he rolled his hips.

His movements grew harder, desperate.

I gasped, unable to hold on to him anymore and letting myself lean back, pressing my palms back on the table.

He leaned forward, his ravenous behavior making him hold my hip with one hand, nails digging into the flesh. He let go of my neck to press down on my chest, pressing my back to the table.

I bucked my hips up, feeling every thrash and collision of his member. At points, I thought it was swelling, filling me, with no room for anything else.

“Please,” I begged, “I can’t keep going.”

“Yes, you can,” he hummed. “We aren’t finished until I say we are.”

He dug his claws into the table beside my head, his thick, monstrous cock spearing into me, bottoming out before I could even let out a shout.

The fruit from the table rolled off slowly with every impact. My hips knocked against the wood with every thud, every time he buried himself into me. If he didn’t control himself, or adjust his size, I thought he might break me in half.

“Say it,” he groaned.

“I can’t—”

“You want this,” he gasped, his grip tightening.

“Wait—”

“Give yourself to me,” he begged, “join me, and you will never want for anything again.”

“Stop.” I covered my face.

“Lucia”—my name was so sultry in his pathetic voice—“say it. Say you won’t leave me.”

“Stop it!”

“I need you.”

“Obscuria!” I screamed, my entire body freezing.

There was an immense pressure, enough to cause my ears to ache and a consistent press on my lungs. Then a release so sharp that I thought I might faint or levitate. A feeling like liquid morphine in my veins set afire; every nerve, every cell in my body freed a pure, blinding burst of energy.

It all stopped.

With tightened muscles and a long-coming release, the end felt satisfying, earned. Before I knew it, I was forcing myself to breathe; my eyes would not open from the intensity. I reached to touch the table, but all I felt was dirt.

I sat up, the tendrils gone, as were the table and fruit.

I stood and kicked the dirt, and the foliage beneath my feet crunched. Leaves caught in my hair, dirt smeared on my petticoat. The warmth I had just felt vanished like a quickly fading dream.

A sinking feeling settled at the pit of my gut. Was this a temptation or a distraction?

My fists clenched so hard, balled up with the simmering anger from within.

That was when I let it go.