A/N: So this is a little drabble that occurred to me. I'm having some serious writer's block working on "Will You Ever Know" so I'm hoping all the one shots I have lying around will tide y'all over until it passes. Anyway, this is just a little smut to entertain y'all. Let me know what you think! XOXO
Someone save me…
He knocks on the door casually. Beads of sweat immediately forms on my forehead. The wispy hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Goose bumps rise on my arms. A chilling tingle creeps up my spine. He knocks again. My mouth goes dry. My hands ache to open the door. My mind knows better than to cave to my primal urges, knows what will happen if I do. Butterflies flurry in a frenzy in the pit of my stomach. I have to leave, to hide somewhere—anywhere—before he realizes I'm not going to open the door.
I can't do it again, not after the way he left me last time. I was a quivering mess on the floor, branded like cattle, so ashamed of the things he had done to me and the fact that I had enjoyed every minute. I hid in turtlenecks for days, waiting for the bite marks and their subsequent bruises to become flesh-colored again.
I swallow, take a few impossibly quiet steps away from the door. He knocks again. I glance at the staircase to my left. If he catches me, it's over. His knock is deliberately louder and slower. It just can't happen again. I have to have more self-control than that.
Someone please help me…
He's just too much, too strong, too molten. I tiptoe up the stairs. My heart leaps into my throat when he knocks again and I take the rest of the stairs two at a time, frantically looking over my shoulder with every step. Maybe he knocks again, or maybe I'm just hearing my own heart bang against my ribcage. I flit down the upstairs hallway, press my forehead to the cool glass of the window facing the narrow street behind the house. I've been pressed against this window before, but in a manner very unlike the current one. I listen heard but don't hear anything. That's either very good or very bad.
Someone has got to stop him…
He is a whirlpool ready to drag me in. He is a raging inferno intent on engulfing me in flames. He will consume me completely if I'm not careful. Worse, I'll like it. I hear his heavy, even footsteps in the downstairs hallway and my heart stops. He calls my name—Olivia, not Liv or Livvie like he usually does—ever so calmly.
I run into the library because it is the first open door I come to, and close the door ever so quietly. I lean against the cool mahogany door, a manic smile of anticipation flashing over my face. I will pay dearly for my little game, and undoubtedly enjoy it thoroughly. I often wonder if it is him who is crazy, or me. I press myself flat against the door, listening intently for any sign of him.
He's walking around, no longer calling my name, probably no longer amused by my game. I listen as he opens doors and walks around rooms, looking for me everywhere. I wonder if he actually doesn't know where I am—if I actually managed to elude him—or if he's just humoring me. I doubt I've outfoxed him, especially as I am trapped on the second floor with no means of escape. He knows my every thought, hears my every breath and heartbeat, detects every bead of sweat forming in the small of my back. He's climbing the stairs now. I make myself silent and small, looking around the library for an out.
Please help me.
He calls my name, his tone neutral and nonthreatening but somehow terrifyingly exciting. I inch toward the closet's cracked door but hesitate before doing inside. The floorboards will creak, or the hinges will groan. The room would betray me. He calls my name again. I bite my bottom lip. Do I dare answer? Do I dare not?
I slips into the closet, peering into the adjoining room for any sign of him. I hold my breath, listen hard. His footsteps seem far away, perhaps on the other side of the hall. I creep into the room. A door opens then shuts. My stomach flutters. It won't be long. He's running out of rooms and I'm running out of time.
Someone stop him.
I smell him. Is he that close—behind me?—or am I just going crazy? His footsteps become deafeningly loud as he paces the hallway, deciding which room to try next. I creep to the door, holding my breath. I can definitely smell him now. He's on the other side of the door, listening for my heartbeat. I curse the excitement that courses through me as I tremble in the hovel between the door and the dresser.
Please…
He opens the door and steps inside, unwittingly hiding me from him. I hold my breath as he steps further into the room. I wonder if he can smell me too. Madness seizes me and I sash form the room. He shouts my name. I am just fast enough to escape his grasp. But he is faster and within seconds, I am in his grasp.
Oh God…
No…No...Yes…No…Don't…Stop…Don't stop… Let go of my waist, get your lips away from me. Stop making my insides turn to jelly. He grins against my mouth, knowing he's won. I wind my fingers in his curls, staring into those oceanic ice blue eyes. I'm going to pay for my silliness, he says, his breath warm on my neck. I am Livvie again, his sweet baby, hoisted in his sinewy arms. Don't bite me, I plead silently, a shudder running through me. He always takes away my words. Everything is him, his wants, his needs, his thoughts, his hands and lips coaxing all the strength from my body.
No…
Don't bite me. Take your cursed, hot tongue away. I wince at the contact of teeth and clavicle and his grip on my waist loosens, slackens just enough. I dart across the room and out the door. I run to my bedroom across the hall, slam the door, and lean against it as my heart thunders in my ears. I hold all my weight against it but it's no use.
Yes…
I am weightless, lifted and dropped. My sheets smell like lavender, but soon they will reek of sex and his cologne. I sleep shamefully in them for days after he leaves. He hovers over me, smiling. I wonder how I will pay for my "silliness." My pants are the first to go, then my top. My bra is flung across the room, my damp panties stuffed in his pocket. I curse my back for arching when his tongue makes contact with nub of nerves between my legs, curse my hands for grabbing fistfuls of his hair. He licks slow, driving me up the wall. I claw at the sheets, an embarrassingly vulgar string of curses leaving my lips when he nips me with his teeth. My moans echo off the walls, rivers flowing abundantly in appreciation of his blessed, god awful mouth. He chuckles when I splinter into a million pieces, my face contorting as the world comes undone.
Help…
His lips course their way back to mine, searing everywhere they touch on the way back up. I hate myself for loving the taste of me on his lips, for worshipping his sinful tongue. He seems to undress in seconds. I am forever in awe of his muscular frame and the strength contained in it. I wonder again how I will pay for my silliness. His mouth on my neck makes me light-headed as my eyes roll back. My breath catches as he fills me. There is no more running, no escape.
…
There is no fight left. My legs hook over his shoulders as hard meets soft… Shovels into earth… Sharps meeting flats… Waves crashing into jagged rocks… Moans… Screams… Electricity shooting from toe tips to the top of the head. Then he does the unthinkable. He stops, smiles at me like the devil come to collect his due. I beg before I'm even told to, promising only God knows what. I find the magic combination of words and he finally pushes me off the cliff. I fall into glorious oblivion. My face freezes in a silent scream as I levitate in an arc like I'm possessed. I babble his name like I need saving because I do. But he can't save me from himself. He bites my shoulder as he reaches his peak, groaning my name against my hot skin. Tremors of aftershock wash over me. I relish the strength of his embrace as I fall asleep.
Someone has to stop him…because I don't want to.