Page 7 of Hide Me Darling

His blood would splatter across the pavement as the beast within me took over, delivering the sweetest kind of justice there is. Death.

“Does that feel good?” The man's voice rips me from my daydream, ruining all of the momentum my body was beginning to build.

Was I about to come thinking of murder?

I clench my teeth as I try to push that thought away. Instead of responding to him with words, I tighten my legs around him, wanting him to go deeper, harder. I need the pain. I need to feel this deep within my dark soul. The rhythm of his thrusts becomes more insistent, more demanding.

Each movement pushes me closer and closer, but something isn't quite right. The friction, the heat, it's all there, but the final peak remains just out of reach. I can feel him getting closer, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps against my neck. My body responds to his intensity, but it’s as if my release requires something more.

His pace quickens, and I can sense his climax approaching. With a final, deep thrust, he shudders against me, a low groan escaping his lips as he pulses inside me. His grip on my thighs tightens momentarily before he relaxes, breathless and spent.

I try to steady my breathing, frustration bubbling up from deep inside me because this is not what I needed. I did not come out here tonight to be teased and brought to the edge just so some stranger could get off instead.

He pulls back slightly, his lips brushing against my ear. "That was incredible," he whispers, his voice filled with satisfaction. “Did you come?”

Seriously, if you need to ask, then you already have your answer.

I force a smile that he can’t really see, not wanting to ruin the moment for him because that’s the kind of person I am. "Yeah," I reply, my voice a bit hollow. "It was great."

He lowers me gently to the ground, both of us adjusting our clothes in the darkness. The intimacy of the moment is already vanishing, my mind is already drifting back to reality, to the investigation, and to the nagging feeling of dissatisfaction that makes me want to scream.

He lingers for a moment, probably expecting more, maybe a conversation or a cuddle, but I can't stand to prolong this any further. I offer a polite nod and a faint smile before slipping out of the room. The thumping bass of the club instantly engulfs me, providing a much-needed distraction from the hollow ache inside.

As I make my way through the crowded club, I feel a surge of frustration. The whole point of coming out, of pretending, it was supposed to make me feel better. It was supposed to satisfy me and clear my mind for what is to come. I shove through the throng of bodies, ignoring the curious glances and the occasional touch from strangers. The pulsating lights and the pounding music blur into a cacophony of sensations, only heightening my agitation. Everything about the club suddenly feels suffocating. I need to get out, to breathe, to find clarity.

Finally, I burst through the exit and into the cool night air. The relative silence outside is a stark contrast to the chaos inside, and I take a deep breath, savoring the coolness as it fills my lungs. For a moment, I just stand there, letting the tension slowly seep out of my body.

But it doesn't last long. The annoyance of my failed mission still simmers beneath the surface, a constant reminder of the confusion I can't seem to escape. I have to grit my teeth and dig my nails into my palm just to make my feet carry me forward.

I start walking towards my car, each step heavy with the weight of my thoughts. The streets are relatively quiet, the distant hum of the city providing a stark contrast to the pulsating energy of the club.

When I reach my car, I pause for a moment, leaning against the door and letting out a deep, weary sigh. The cool metal under my fingertips feels grounding, a small anchor in the whirlwind of my mind. I unlock the car and slide into the driver’s seat, the familiar scent and feel of the interior providing a small measure of comfort.

Sitting there for a moment, I let my hands rest on the steering wheel with my eyes closed. The night’s events replay in my mind, the anger of the encounter in the storage room mingling with the weight of everything else in my life. I need to get home, to sleep, to clear my head and regroup.

This was supposed to make me feel better. All I had to do was pretend long enough for someone to make me come and then I could go to sleep peacefully without a thousand thoughts in my head.

Turning the key in the ignition, the engine roars to life, and I pull out onto the quiet street. The drive home is uneventful, the city lights blurring past as my mind drifts. I focus on the road, on the rhythmic hum of the tires against the asphalt, trying to push away the lingering dissatisfaction.

Finally, I arrive back at the cabin, the familiar sight of it offering a sense of relief. I park the car and step out into the crisp night air. The silence here is a welcome change from the sounds of the city.

The door creaks softly as I push it open, making my way inside. I kick off my shoes and head straight for the bathroom, stripping along the way and throwing my panties in the trash, the lingering smell of the man from earlier already souring my stomach.

Turning on the shower, I let the water heat up before stepping in. Once the bathroom begins to steam up, I allow the hot spray to help soothe my tired muscles. Maybe this is what I need instead of running into the city for release. I’m not Senna and I think I need to stop pretending to be in order to get some relief. The encounter in the club now feels like a distant memory, replaced by a sense of emptiness and longing.

As I scrub my skin clean, I try to push away the nagging thoughts that threaten to consume me. But right now, all I can think about is the hollow ache inside, the emptiness that only seems to grow with each passing day.

Eventually, I step out of the shower and wrap myself in a towel, the steam from the bathroom swirling around me. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, my black hair hanging limply down my back and my blue eyes looking overly large against my pale skin.

Shaking my head at myself, I quickly dry off and pull on a clean sleep shirt and underwear. Padding barefoot into the kitchen, I pour myself a half glass of wine, hoping that it will work to take the edge off instead. Carrying the glass and my phone to the couch, I curl up with my legs underneath me, gazing out through the large glass windows at Seanna's cabin.

A soft light shines in her living room. As I hit dial on my phone, I watch as her shadow approaches the window, looking back toward mine. The phone barely rings before it's picked up, but she doesn’t speak first.

“If I hide…” I whisper into the phone.

“Then I’ll seek…” comes her reply, her voice holding a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Are you okay?"

I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. "No, I'm not," I admit quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I... I went to the club tonight."

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