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Paxton turned when he heard me come in. His face was a steel mask, betraying nothing, but the blue depths of his eyes were fiery and turbulent.
He advanced toward me, never taking his eyes off me for a second. I could feel tension rising in the air, thick and heavy, like the air before a storm. I still didn’t make a move to run.
“You’re fucking crazy, Paxton,” I whispered instead, staring back at him.
“Only when it comes to you,” he muttered.
One hand suddenly shot forward, but he didn’t attack me. Instead, he pushed the door shut behind my left shoulder. Then his hands were gripping the sides of my face and his mouth was on mine, knocking the air from my lungs.
I froze as I tried to comprehend what was happening. Then, because I’d apparently lost my fucking mind, I wrapped my arms around his taut, muscular body and frantically kissed him back, adrenaline singing in my veins.
He tasted just like I remembered from all those years ago. Like I’d secretly thought about in my deepest, darkest fantasies; the ones I didn’t even want to admit to myself, let alone my best friends.
He pressed his hips closer to mine and deepened the kiss, tongue gliding in to touch the tip of mine. Sparks shot all the way to my clit, and I let out a moan and melted against him, unable to keep myself upright.
His strong arms kept me steady as he grinded himself against me, tongue sweeping deeper into my mouth. Then his hands slid down to my ass, squeezing it through my jeans. I moaned again and deliriously motioned for him to take them off, which he did without question, along with my top and panties. His hand briefly went to his zipper, freeing his erection. Then he lifted me in one easy movement, pinning my back against the door and forcing me to wind my legs around his waist.
My mind was split into two tracks. One was a runaway train with a voice screaming, ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ while the other was shouting, ‘What the hell are you doing?’, demanding I stop giving into this madness that Paxton always seemed to unleash within me.
As his mouth moved to my neck, I dropped my head back, teeth sinking into my lower lip to stifle another loud moan. Paxton’s left hand moved between my legs, finding its destination with an urgency that matched our feverish panting. His thick fingers traced heated circles over my clit before dipping lower, and a primal, unrestrained growl escaped his lips as he felt how wet I was.
I clung to him, fingers tangling in his hair. Every fiber of my being had sprung to life, filling me with a yearning so intense it hurt. “Please,” I begged, that singular word carrying a whole symphony of lust and need.
Paxton’s mouth found mine again. Then, with one hard thrust, he was inside me, knocking the air from my lungs.
Guilt tugged at me, a whisper of reason in the midst of our frantic entanglement. I ignored it, letting out a low moan as Paxton withdrew and plunged into me again, rubbing up against my clit in the process.
I could feel how much he hated me with every thrust. Every rough kiss. All that hatred, pouring out of him and into me like a rapidly-spreading poison. Poison I was oh-so-ready to drink because it came in such an addictive, tantalizing form.
With every movement, every mingled gasp and groan, the intensity and heat between us surged, building toward an explosive crescendo. “Oh, fuck,” I panted. “I think I’m-I’m gonna—”
A primal rumble came from Paxton’s mouth, and he moved one hand between us, swiping at my clit. My nails dug into his shoulders, and I let out a strangled sob of pleasure as my body erupted in searing ecstasy. He let out a guttural groan, surrendering to his own pleasure as his strong arms held me steady.
He pressed his forehead against mine for a moment and muttered something I didn’t quite catch. Then he withdrew and guided me back to my feet. I was still shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure, so I sank to the floor to grab my clothes and recover.
As the echoes of my orgasm finally faded, reality hit me like a ton of bricks, crashing right through the intoxicated haze that Paxton had brought me into. I’d never experienced such paralyzing guilt or shame before.
A similar sense of regret seemed to have hit him too, because he stood and stared down at me for a long, fraught moment, looking just as broken as I felt. Then he turned and left my dorm without a word.
As the door closed behind him, I moved one hand to my throat, fingertips touching the tender spot where his mouth had been mere moments ago. A pit instantly opened up in my stomach.
Earlier, I thought getting expelled from college and being a social pariah was rock bottom for me. But this was truly rock bottom. I’d just fucked a murderer. The same one who tried to kill me three years ago.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
I honestly had no idea anymore. Couldn’t even fathom what was so fundamentally broken in my brain that I’d so gladly and easily do what I just did. At least I knew one thing for sure, though. This was the lowest I could sink in the world. The most awful thing I could ever do.
After today, nothing in my life could possibly get any worse.
Sienna
I sat alone in my dorm with the lights off, watching shadows dance across the wall. The weight of everything that had happened was still pressing down on my shoulders, suffocating the life out of me.
I replayed those frenetic moments with Paxton over and over in my mind, each memory a dagger that pierced my already-wounded heart, reminding me of my shame and desperation. I still couldn’t understand what was wrong with me. I didn’t even want to think about what came next, either. Would Paxton see it as a one-off thing? Or would he show up tomorrow to fuck my brains out again, knowing I was powerless to resist him?
Also, what the hell was up with that look on his face before he left? To me, it appeared to be a mix of shame, regret, and anger. But what the hell did he have to be mad about? He wasn’t the one who fucked a killer. I was. And it wasn’t because the sex was bad; I knew that much. It was fucking incredible.
And there it is again. Molten shame, pouring through my veins like lava.
