Page 22 of White Wings of Desire

Evelyn

I barely make it to the hut without tripping over my own worn, clumsy feet. Throwing my body against the old wooden door, I open the moldy, run-down place. The stench of moist, rotting wood fills my nostrils, and my lungs burn with each breath I take. Shutting the door behind me, I take a quick look around the hut. The small room holds a tiny wooden kitchen, a table with two chairs, a bed on the opposite side of the room, a dresser, and a sturdy little cupboard. With my last remaining strength, I push this cupboard in front of the door, blocking off the entrance.

I take a deep breath and exhale with a heavy sigh. Raising my hands, I comb the damp strands of hair clinging to my forehead away from my face. I hurry to the other end of the hut, where a narrow back door offers another exit, and force it open, hoping that if he finds this place, it will confuse him.

Choosing to hide, I press myself against the cold, damp wooden wall next to the dresser, the back door covering the small opening to perfection. Allowing myself a moment, I close my eyes and let my body relax. Everything hurts. I long for relief, a warm shower, a cozy bed, and safety.

At the sound of a powerful kick against the front door, I jump, the feet of the cabinet scraping against the rough wooden floor as he tries to force his way in.

"Damn it," he curses, followed by a loud and dangerous crash.

My breath catches in my throat as he enters the hut. I can feel the vibration of his heavy footsteps against my bare feet through the wooden floorboards. My heart hammers against my ribcage, ready to burst out of my chest. I hold the pistol raised in front of me, ready to shoot. Since I can’t see him, I listen to his movements, each step hinting at the direction he is walking. When his steps reach the narrow back door, I press myself closer to the wall, hoping he will leave.

But he doesn't. He turns and walks back into the hut. Pushing at the door to catch a glimpse of him, the hinges squeak, and he turns. I force myself out of hiding and point my pistol at his forehead.

"Don't move," I say in a threatening tone. "Drop your pistol."

He does exactly what I told him to do. He lets go of the firearm and raises his hands in submission. A devilish grin forms on his face as he leans his head against the barrel.

"Good job," he says in a raspy voice. My palms are sweaty around the handle, but I keep a firm grip on the pistol. I glance at his shoulder, which is dripping with blood from the graze shot. Like a punch in the gut, my stomach drops with frustration at my failed attempt.

"Why are you still standing? " I ask.

"Aw, are you worried? Or are you asking because you coated the bullets with poison?" My eyes widen in horror. There is no way he could have known that I had done that. "You got me good, baby." A low chuckle rumbles from his chest. The vibration of his voice travels through the pistol pressed to his forehead and ripples through my body. "But I came prepared." He nods towards one of the pockets on his vest. "Don't be scared. Have a look at what's in there."

"Shut up," I warn him. With the pistol to his head, I take a step closer and, with shaking fingers, reach into his pocket, pulling out a tiny ziplock bag of pills.

"It's an antitoxin," he says, and I look back at him. His eyes are glued to me, like a predator studying its prey, preparing itself to pounce.

"How did you get that?" I fist the pills in my free hand and furrow my eyebrows. My heart stutters with anger.

"Had it made after snatching a vial of your poison from your apartment. I like to be prepared for everything." I'm at a loss for words. No matter what I could have tried, he would have always been one step ahead of me. "Shoot me," he says, snapping me out of my trance. At his request, my eyes widen. When I meet his gaze, I find no sign of fear in his bright green eyes. "Come on, be a good girl and kill me. I know you want to." He encourages, putting more pressure on the barrel, forcing me to take a step back. "Make me proud." He stares at me, his eyes blown wide. The only source of light is the moon shining through the small window by the bed, casting a subtle white glow on us.

Why am I hesitating? This is my last chance. I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see the result of the shot when his brain splatters everywhere. Holding my breath, I move my finger to the trigger. But the shot never goes off. Instead, my arm gets yanked outwards, and he grabs the pistol from me. I snap my eyes open and react as quickly as I can, trying to dodge his next swing and try to make a run for the door, but he is faster. His long fingers wrap around my neck, slamming my body against the wall. I squeeze my eyes shut as a painful scream squeezes the air out of my lungs.

When I open my eyes, he is right in front of me, his grip on my neck tight, his whole body weight pressing down on me, trapping me against the cold wall, with no room to escape. I watch him as he brings his second pistol up to my temple. My heartbeat quickens, hammering against the insides of my chest as the cold metal presses against my skin. My eyes lock with his, forming an unspoken connection.

Trapped between the wall and his body, I embrace the heat radiating from him, warming my cold, aching limbs. The familiar, seductive scent of his cologne, mixed with cigarettes, floods my lungs, replacing the stench of mold. I melt into his touch, surrendering to the comfort and warmth he offers me. Tilting my head back into his hand wrapped around my neck, he spreads his fingers and palms my skull, burying his fingers in the damp and tangled strands of my hair, caressing my scalp. Unable to take my eyes off him, we both stare at each other.

The corner of his lips twitches into a smile, and I feel his hard cock pressing against my belly. Excitement flutters through my stomach, like a swarm of butterflies. My body betrays me, and a familiar, throbbing warmth pools between my legs. Against my better judgment, I run my hands up his chest, and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down to my level, crashing my lips against his.

This time he doesn't hesitate; quite the opposite. He drops the pistol and wraps his arms around me, his hands burning against the cold skin of my thighs as he lifts me off the ground. I wrap my legs around his middle and bury my fingers in the soft strands of his hair. He keeps me pressed against the wall while we make out. The kiss is messy, full of need and things left unsaid; it feels wrong, but so damn good.

After what feels like a lifetime, I pull away from the kiss. Our lips brush against each other, our hot breaths mingling, tickling the cold skin of my face. I look into his eyes; the anger, the desire to kill me, is gone, replaced by sheer lust. "Fuck me," I whisper against his lips, and run my nails down the nape of his neck. His whole body shudders against mine, and I can feel the goosebumps rise against my fingertips.

"I was beginning to think you'd never ask." He catches my lower lip between his teeth and gives it a playful nip before he carries me across the dark room towards the old bed and drops me onto the mattress, kicking up a cloud of dust. The wooden frame creaks with the impact, and my eyes widen, worried it would break.

I prop myself up on my elbows and watch him unstrap the rifle from his back and drop it on the table in the middle of the room.

"Hurry," I say, not even trying to hide my impatience.

"Patience, Dove." He chuckles and stalks over to the bed. I watch him drop to his knees beside the bed and push myself higher to see what he is doing. His arms wrap around my thighs, and I yelp as he drags me across the bed closer to him, draping my legs over his shoulders. He wastes no time and grabs his pocket knife, flicks the blade from the handle, and rips through the waistband of my thong. Before I can even protest, the material is gone, and I feel his hot breath against my exposed, throbbing cunt.

Leaning closer, he buries his face between my legs and slides his tongue between my folds, licking at my exposed flesh. He hums in approval as he laps up my arousal. The vibration of the sound pulsates against my cunt, sending a tingle from my core through my entire body in waves. I sink into the sheets, throwing my head back, a grunt escaping my throat. His tongue circles my clit before he places his lips flush against my folds, creating a vacuum around my clit. An embarrassed, high-pitched moan falls from my lips, and my hands snap to his head, gripping his disheveled hair.

Releasing my clit, he circles the sensitive bundle of nerves once more before thrusting his tongue between my folds and licking his way down to my opening. I prop my feet up on his back for support. My whole body quivers, and my knuckles turn white with how hard I clutch his hair as his tongue glides inside me. My internal muscles contract around his hot tongue. It doesn't go deep, but the heat it radiates warms me from the inside out.

I moan in response to his tongue curling inside me, swallowing more of my arousal when he eases out, dragging his tongue along my throbbing insides. Desperate for more friction I arch my back off the bed and grind against his face. He doesn't stop me. I lift my head, looking down at him, and our eyes meet, his pupils dilated with lust. The corners of his eyes crease, and I feel his smile against my aching cunt. Testing the limits, I grind against his face once more while our eyes remain fixed on each other. Again, he doesn't stop me from getting what I want. Instead, he wraps his long fingers around my thighs and nods his head, giving me silent permission.

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