One Dirty Night

He couldn’t possibly know how dark my desires went beneath my cardigans and lab coats, but…I couldn’t work up the effort to be offended.

I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t the most turned on I’d ever been. Couldn’t deny that I could wring out my knickers from the flood he’d teased out of me.

“I…” I searched for answers but could only shrug. “I don’t know.”

“How old are you?”

I blinked into his uncanny purple eyes. “Twenty-four.” I smiled self-consciously. “It’s actually my birthday tonight.”

His entire face switched from coy to outright salacious. “Your birthday? Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re not out celebrating with your friends?”

“Nope.”

“No cake? No presents? No boyfriend to give you a lacklustre orgasm in the dark?”

“Unfortunately not.”

Grabbing my chin, he held me tight. “Tell me. If you could have anything you wanted, no matter how sexual or perverted, what would it be?”

My throat closed up.

Every instinct to hide—like I’d always done—threatened to crumple me into a meek little ball and crawl home.

But…I didn’t want to be that girl anymore.

Not tonight.

Not ever.

Sucking in a breath, I used all my strength, all my courage, and stood tall in his hold. “I want to know what it feels like to be at the mercy of someone.”

His gaze locked on my mouth. “Go on.”

“I…”

“Don’t be shy. You can’t shock me.” He pressed a kiss to my cheek. “You’ll only turn me on even more.”

“I want…I want to belong to someone. And not just in a biblical marriage sense. I want every damn part of me to belong to them. To exist because of them. I don’t want to be able to breathe unless he gives me permission. I want him to control my laughter, my tears, my screams. I want someone who knows my body better than me. Someone to use me in ways that I’ve only read about. I want to come on someone else’s hand and not my own. I want to be hurt. I want to be worshipped. I want to be so sore the next day, so bruised and marked and used, that I know, with every part of me, that I was his meal, and I only exist for him to take another bite.”

Silence blanketed us.

I couldn’t tear my eyes from his as his breath came in short, heavy exhales. His pupils widened behind the purple contacts until all the colour leached out of them, turning inky with desire.

He didn’t speak. His scent of spice, sin, and sex assaulted me.

I could get off just on his smell.

Time stretched, scratching into my skin, injecting my heart with adrenaline.

But then, he finally growled, “You want to be eaten, little witch?”

Every part of me went still.

Last chance.