There are times when I can control the shadows and times when they control me.
This is the second instance.
I haven’t been able to get rid of them since this morning. They’ve been looming and spreading over me until their gray clouds are the only thing I breathe, see, or touch.
That’s how I found myself at Anastasia’s flat.
I resisted not seeing her, especially when I’m in this state. I don’t let anyone see me with my shadows, not even my twin sister.
But I desperately needed the distraction. I needed to feel the heat of her body and hear the tiny gasps she makes when I take her by surprise.
Like now.
She lets out small noises in my mouth as her fingers latch to my side. I kick the door to her flat shut and back her up with my hold on her neck. Her pulse throbs beneath my fingers as if she’s caught by the same adrenaline wave that’s holding me hostage, and I grab her throat tighter until I’m her only anchor.
And she’s mine.
Because even now, I’m still surrounded by those shadows, and they’re vicious and harsh, needing a pound of flesh.
Hers.
She makes them feel bare, and they don’t like that. They don’t like being exposed or weakened or even seen.
And she did see them. Today. Back in the office. When no one even thought twice about my state of being, she was staring at me funny, as if she could make eye contact with them.
Sense them.
Drag them the fuck out.
So this is vengeance. This is their way to taint her, tarnish her, and ruin her so badly that she’ll no longer dare to make eye contact.
That she’ll run the other fucking way when she notices them.
My tongue thrusts to the roof of her mouth and I kiss her with a savageness that hardens my dick and twists my fucking spine.
But I don’t stop.
Not when she gasps.
Not when she trembles.
And definitely not when her feet fail her with my relentless movements.
I hold her upright by the throat, squeezing until she opens her mouth wider, probably to breathe. But I claim that mouth, I suck on her tongue, then nibble down so hard, I’m surprised I don’t taste blood.
Her moans and whimpers are music to my ears, an aphrodisiac to my fucked-up shadows.
And they want more.
So much bloody more.
When she loses her footing again, I let her fall to the wooden flooring, but I hold her tighter to lessen the impact.
Her eyes widen when her back meets the ground and I release her lips with one last bite.
As much as I’d like to keep feasting on her, she needs air. But even as I allow her that, I don’t let go of her throat. She’s the only armor I have against the shadows and there’s no way in fuck I’m releasing her.
Yes, that’s selfish. Yes, they should probably find me a deeper pit in hell than the one previously designated for me, but that’s all on her.
She shouldn’t have stopped and stared this morning, shouldn’t have put her nose where it doesn’t belong.
Shouldn’t have seen the side of me I keep under wraps.
But she did and now, she needs to pay for it.
Anastasia swallows thickly and darts her tongue out to lick her lips that I’ve turned swollen and red. “What…what are you doing?”
“I’m going to fuck you like it’s your first and last time, my little liar.” Still tightening my hold on her throat, I kneel between her legs and unbuckle my trousers. “You’ll take it, won’t you?”
For a second, she just stares, her mouth agape. Her legs are still splayed in an awkward angle from the fall. Her baggy hoodie rides up her pale thighs, revealing her white lace panties.
White and lace.
Fuck me. The way she dresses beneath the hoodie is nothing like what her new persona is supposed to be. She looks like that icy-haired, blue-eyed stranger from the bar right now. The same stranger who should’ve been a one-time fuck yet turned into so much more.
But she’s not. She has the glasses on, and she’s still wearing the brown contacts that hide her true eyes from me.
I begrudgingly release her throat and yank the hoodie over her head. Her tits gently bounce, the rosy peaks taunting me, so I grab both of them and pull her up using them.
She gasps, then moans when my lips find hers again while I continue pinching her nipples, twisting them as hard as I suck on her tongue.
She’s trembling, I realize, with anticipation or something else, I don’t know, and at the moment, I don’t have the state of mind to focus on it.
All I give a fuck about is the feel of her shaking in my arms, her tongue tentatively taking licks of mine, even when she can’t keep up with my pace and her whimpers grow in volume.
“Ugh…” She tries to pull back, her glasses fogging up. “Knox…d-do something.”
“Something?”
“Anything…” Her voice is breathy, low, and so aroused that I feel it through her chest where I’m pinching her taut, throbbing nipples.
“It’s not going to be anything, it’s going to be filthy and raw. I’ll take your cunt on the floor, and I’m going to fuck it rough, fuck it right, until all you can do is scream.”
“O-okay…” Her voice is barely a whisper, or maybe it’s a whimper, but it’s all the confirmation I need.
Releasing one of her nipples, I pluck off the glasses and throw them away. Her eyes, her fake brown eyes are drooped and barely open. But she’s looking at me. Like in the office earlier, she’s only looking at me. As if I’m the only one who exists in the world.
As if I’m the only one she can look at.
Part of me wants to reach out and bring out her actual eyes, the real ones that I have memorized deep in my soul. But the most logical part wins, the part that shouldn’t care which eyes are genuine. I don’t like them in the first place.
Eyes.
They’re the part of the face that hold the most contempt. They’re what T and I tried to escape and still couldn’t, not even after we ran away.
So I grab Anastasia by the hip and flip her onto her stomach. She gasps, the sound echoing in the small flat as her head lifts, probably to look at me, but I grab her by the nape and pin her to the ground. “Stay like that.”
Her harsh breathing is audible and I feel her stiffening beneath me, but soon after, she relaxes, her cheek resting on the floor.
As if my callous, violent treatment is normal and she accepts it.
As if…she trusts me.
Bloody hell.
Why the fuck would she trust me when I promised to hurt her? I sensed that she was a masochist that first night, but is this even still under that category?
Despite myself, though, a small nook inside me rejoices at that fact, at how she trusts me enough to let go when she’s not the type to.
When she’s clearly hiding so much shit and being a little liar.
My fingers latch onto her underwear, pulling them down, and she opens her legs, letting me settle between them as if I always belonged here. Between her fucking legs.
I throw the underwear away and my hand finds her soaking folds. “Hmm. So fucking wet. Did the promise of rough sex turn you on, beautiful?”
She doesn’t say anything, but I get my answer when her juices coat my fingers and drip between her thighs.
“Tell me you got on some sort of birth control today.”
“I’m on the shot.”
“Thank fuck.”
“You’re not…going to use a condom?” She tries to twist her head back, but I hold it forward.
“Now that I’ve felt your cunt bare, I’m not going back to using a barrier.”
I grab her wrists and lock them at the small of her back, then use them and my hold on her nape as leverage as I thrust into her tight heat in one ruthless go.
Fuck.
I came here with the promise of violence, revenge even, but the moment her walls clench around me, it’s like I’ve reached a different level of existence.
One where only the two of us exist.
She moans, the sound shattered when I pull out to the crown, then drive in harder this time, as violently as my shadows.
My fingers tighten on her neck and I thrust in and out of her cunt with a speed even I didn’t know I was capable of. The sloppy sounds of her arousal keep me going on and on as the slaps of flesh against flesh reverberate around us.
I fuck her like a madman with no cure, like this is the last fuck of my life, like she’s my prize and I have to have her one final time.
Sex never felt this raw to me, this…fucking primal. Yes, I’ve always loved it rough, but never to the point where I didn’t want to stop.
Where I wanted to be inside a woman forever.
The thought gives me pause, but only for a second before I’m pounding in her again.
Faster, wilder, until she’s sliding on the floor and my hold is the only thing keeping her in place.
“You’re so fucking tight, my little liar. This hole is made for me, isn’t it?”
She releases an unintelligible sound, so I repeat, “This hole is mine, isn’t it?”
“N-no…”
The pads of my fingers dig into her nape. “Did you just say no?”
“You…don’t…own me…”
“Is that fucking right?” I up my pace, ramming into her the fastest I ever have until her whimpers and moans break. Until her small body is completely at my mercy—or lack thereof.
“Here’s the thing, my little liar. I do own you, I own this hole and every other hole you have to offer. The longer you deny it, the harder I’ll fuck it in you.”
“Oh, fuck…” she curses, her walls tightening around me. “Knox…Knox…oh, shit…I…can’t take it…”
“Then admit it. Admit that your cunt is mine to own and fuck.”
“Oooh…”
“That’s not the word.”
“Just…just let me come…”
“Not until you say that your cunt is mine.”
“It’s…it’s yours…” Her voice is barely above a murmur, but I hear it.
I hear it so loud and clear that the inexplicable possessiveness veering on madness takes hold of me.
“Good girl.” I rotate my hips until I hit deeper, and that makes her moans louder and sharper. “Do you like that?”
“Yes…yes…there…please…”
I roll my hips again, driving deeper instead of harder, then repeat it a few more times until I feel her shattering around me. “Here?”
“Yes!!” she screams, spluttering and murmuring my name like a chant as she comes undone.
I feel her clamping around me, swallowing me inside and milking my dick as if she can’t come alone and is inviting me along for the ride.
My pace turns frantic, fueled by her pleasure. It’s something only she is capable of, making me so attuned to her orgasms and the tremors in her body that I can’t help the need to follow her.
To be with her.
To fucking own her.
At that thought, the one about owning her, my cum spurts inside her with a wrecking force I’ve never felt before.
As if with a vengeance.
As if I want her every pore to be stuffed with my seed.
I slowly pull out of her, my gaze following the trickling of my cum out of her pussy, smearing her thighs and pooling on the floor.
The shadows slowly dissipate to the background when a raging sense of possessiveness bulldozes to the forefront, tearing through my flesh and smashing straight into my bones.
I’ve always hidden my tendencies of obsession—the need to be number one, to be Dad’s favorite, and even to be T’s only support. And I’ve been trying to get rid of those bad habits since after secondary school.
This is the first time I’ve felt a blinding possessiveness for someone I fucked. It’s close to being a dark obsession.
A dangerous one, where my shadows will come out and play.
And yet, I can’t stop staring at the evidence of my ownership dripping out of her.
I can’t let her go, even though we’re both panting and perspiration covers our skin.
It’s a primal thing that I have no control over. A raw feeling that holds me hostage and refuses to let go.
A soft whimper rips from her and the sound shakes me out of my trance. I slowly release her, then stagger to my feet, tucking in my semi-hard dick.
Yes, I just emptied inside her, but the view of my cum pouring out of her cunt is taunting my dick for another round.
But it’s not about that.
I didn’t come here for multiple rounds or even to fuck at all. I’m here so Anastasia will stop looking at me, so she’ll stop being attuned to me when she has no business to.
She turns around and slowly gets into a kneeling position, then stares up at me. My cock twitches at the view of her completely naked. There are a few red marks on her pale skin from when I gripped her—around her neck, on her wrists, and on the creamy flesh of her breasts. Her nipples have become red and puffy from my assault. Her lips, too. They’re swollen, plump, and tempting me to shove my dick between them.
But what really gets me is the look in her eyes, the satisfaction in them, the fucking pleasure that she’s not ashamed to show.
Because we’re compatible, she and I. Other women wouldn’t appreciate the roughness and dirty sex, but my Anastasia gets off on it.
Wait. My?
Since fucking when did I start thinking of her that way in my mind?
I need to go home and erase these cancerous thoughts from my head.
This is fucking.
Only fucking.
I haven’t taken even one step when she asks, “Do you want to grab something to eat?”
I should turn and leave. Should ignore that fuck-me look in her eyes or the hope in them. If it were any other situation, I would personally crush that hope.
But I don’t.
I go against my principles one more time and stay.
And the shadows have no say in it this time.
