I crave it.
And the truly fucked up part is, I might need it, too.
“Kratos?”
My voice echoes in the stuffy stillness of the old church. But there’s no response. Not a sound.
My lower lip disappears between the safety of my teeth. My core tightens as cold shivers prickle my skin.
“Kratos?”
More silence. Eerily so. It’s the sort of quiet that comes before a storm, when even the birds have fled, sensing the coming fury and wrath.
Yet you’re dumb enough to stay.
Willingly.
And…shamefully…eagerly.
“Hello?” My voice breaks. My anxiety climbs. Just then, I hear the shuffle of something. The crumble of stone, as if underfoot.
I whirl, my eyes scanning the darkness, peering into the unknown, trying to see him. To see anything at all. But there’s nothing.
Only shadows, reaching out and clawing their way into my imagination. Only the dark, dangerous promise of something lurking, waiting for me.
I take a few more timid steps into the utter blackness of the church.
This isn’t me, at least not on the outside. I don’t do “dirty” things like seeking danger and chasing fucked-up kinks in the dark.
I don’t go actively looking to lose my virginity like this: being chased by a monster until he takes it from me.
Roughly. Without mercy.
I’m a good girl. Or at least, I’ve always thought so. But now that I’m here, back for more, and desperate for him to take it all, I start to wonder if maybe that is my mask, and not the opposite.
Maybe the girl who strives to keep the peace when her brothers bicker, and does what she can to make her dad proud, and works her ass off to be the most delicate, elegant dancer ever to float across a stage is the façade. And maybe this fucked up, deranged fantasy is my truth.
The real me.
I flinch, my body clenching tight at the soft crunch of footsteps behind me. I whirl, my breath clawing its way into my throat and my heart thumping against my breastbone.
There’s nothing there.
Only shadows.
Only ghosts.
Only a lurking presence, and the undeniable sensation that I’m being watched.
“Kratos?” I croak. “I—”
The single candle in the middle of the church snuffs out, plunging the church into pure darkness. My pulse slams through my veins, my breathing becoming ragged as I whirl wildly.
More crunching footsteps behind me. My mouth goes dry, and my hands ball into anxious fists as I spin around again.
Still nothing.
Only shadows.
The crunch comes again, back on the other side of me now. I whirl again, feeling like my head is spinning. A low rasping sound whips my attention to yet another random point on the insane imaginary compass I’m standing on, and my chest constricts as I peer vainly into the blackness.
Time stops.
The only sound is my own ragged breathing.
My thighs quiver, and my nipples tighten to hard, anxious points as the tension builds to near madness.
A crunch behind me has me whirling with a choked scream to find…nothing at all.
“Where—”
That’s when he strikes.
Pain explodes through my scalp as my hair is grabbed from behind. A hand clamps over my mouth, and I scream into it as I’m lifted into the air and pulled hard against a firm chest.
I flail and writhe, kicking and squirming helplessly in his powerful grip. I choke on another gasp as I’m flung roughly to the ground. I try to scramble up from the dirty stone floor.
He’s on me in milliseconds.
