Page 68 of The Library

I watch as her eyes scan the room, lingering on the chains hanging from the ceiling, the medical chair bolted to the floor. I press her back toward it, kissing her roughly, feeling her panic rise as I guide her naked body toward the chair. Her breaths come faster, more frantic, but I don’t stop. I clasp the restraints over her wrists, one by one, then move to her ankles, locking her in place.

She starts to struggle, her body thrashing against the restraints as the fear takes hold. “Sebastian, no!” she cries, her voice trembling, but I only laugh.

“We’re going to have some fun now,” I murmur darkly, leaning in close, my lips brushing her ear. Her eyes are wide, frantic, her body pulling against the restraints, but she knows as well as I do that there’s no escape. The sight of her helpless, bound to the chair I’ve used so many times before, makes my blood run hotter.

I move around her slowly, letting the anticipation build, letting her fear settle in. “I know what fear does to you, Lilith,” I say, my voice low and menacing. “It makes your pussy wet.” She gasps, her body trembling as I circle her like a predator, my eyes trailing over her exposed skin. I see the flicker of recognition in her eyes, that primal part of her that knows I’m right. Fear has always turned her on, always made her body betray her.

But this isn’t just about fucking her. It’s about letting her in—fully, into the darkest part of me.

I leave her there for a while, watching her squirm in the chair. The restraints bite into her skin, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps as she struggles to keep her composure. I can feel the fear rolling off of her, thick and heady, but beneathit, there’s desire. She’s always desired the darkness, even if she doesn’t admit it out loud.

I pull a knife from my pocket, the blade glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights. Her eyes lock on it, and I see the panic rise again, her body tensing. I bring the knife close, running the cool steel along the edge of her jaw, down her neck, over her collarbone. She shivers, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but she doesn’t say a word. I drag the blade down her arm, leaving a thin line of blood in its wake. It’s not enough to hurt her—just enough to make her bleed.

Blood drips down her skin, and I feel my cock hardening at the sight of it. We both get off on this—the blood, the fear, the power exchange. I drag the knife lower, making another shallow cut across her thigh, watching as the crimson trickles down her leg. Her breathing is ragged now, her body trembling in the chair, her hands clenched into fists as she tries to control herself.

“You like this,” I growl, leaning in closer, my lips brushing her ear. “You like being scared. You like being cut. It makes you feel alive, doesn’t it?”

She moans softly, a sound that’s half fear, half arousal. I can feel the heat radiating from her, the wetness between her legs, and I know she’s on the edge. I undo the restraints slowly, releasing her wrists, then her ankles. Her body is still trembling, weak from the adrenaline and the cuts, but I’m not done with her yet.

I grab her roughly by the waist, spinning her around and slamming her face down onto the metal table bolted to the floor, bending her over to expose her perfect pussy and ass to me. Her body collapses against the cold surface, and I don’t waste any time. I spread her legs apart with mine and thrust into her with brutal force, my cock driving into her as hard as I can.

She screams, the sound echoing off the walls of the basement as I fuck her violently, taking what’s mine. Her body archesbeneath me, her skin slick with sweat and blood as I pound into her again and again. Her pussy clenches around me, tight and wet, and I can feel the desperation in her movements as she meets my thrusts, needing more, needing to be completely consumed.

“Look at you,” I growl, my hands gripping her hips tightly as I slam into her. “So fucking perfect when you’re scared. So fucking wet for me.” I bend down, biting the back of her neck, leaving marks on her skin as I continue to fuck her, harder, faster.

Her body trembles, her nails scraping against the metal table as she clings to whatever control she has left. But I’m not giving her any. I fuck her mercilessly, pushing her over the edge until she’s screaming my name, her pussy pulsing around me as she comes violently. The sound of her orgasm sends me into a frenzy, and I thrust deeper, harder, until I finally come inside her, filling her with everything I have.

For a moment, I stand there, my cock still buried deep inside her, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Her body is limp beneath me, trembling and weak, her skin streaked with blood and sweat. But there’s a calmness now, a sense of completion that settles over both of us.

I pull out slowly, watching as she collapses onto the table, completely spent. Her breathing is shallow, her body still shaking slightly from the intensity of what we’ve just done. I step back, looking down at her, my chest tight with something I can’t quite place.

This strange feeling has been building for weeks now. It started as a flicker, something I could easily ignore, but now it’s undeniable. It’s more than just an obsession. More than just control. I’m falling for her.

The realization hits me hard, but I don’t say anything. Not yet. I can’t tell her how much she means to me, how much I needher. She’s more than just mine now—she’s becoming a part of me. But I won’t tell her that. Not yet.

I reach out, running my fingers through her hair, pulling her up gently from the table. Her eyes are half-closed, her body completely drained, and I know I’ve pushed her to her limits. But she’s still here. Still mine.

Over the next few days, our lives blur into a twisted routine. Each day, I fuck her relentlessly, tying her up, dominating her, and pushing her to the very edge of fear and desire. I control every gasp, every shiver, bending her to my will until she’s completely undone beneath me. There’s nothing but the two of us, locked in this dark, consuming dance.

But after I’ve broken her down, I always take care of her. I hold her close, cradling her in my arms, pressing soft kisses to her forehead, running my fingers through her hair. It’s my way of grounding her, reminding her that she’s more than just mine—she’s sacred. Even if she doesn’t fully realize how much yet.

Each moment with her pulls me deeper into something I didn’t expect, something that’s more than just control. I can feel it growing stronger every night as she lies in my arms, completely vulnerable, completely mine.

And then the call comes.

It’s late—she’s resting in my arms, her breath still shaky from the intensity of the day, her skin warm against mine. I feel the vibration of my phone on the nightstand and reach for it without thinking. The number flashing on the screen sends a surge of irritation through me. Work. An assignment. Of course, it had to be now.

I answer, my voice low, trying not to disturb her. But as the details of the job are laid out, the frustration builds. It’s not just any assignment—it’s important, urgent, something I can’t refuse. Another mess that needs cleaning up. I clench my jaw asthe voice on the other end tells me where I need to be and when, pulling me away from this.

I hang up, staring at the phone for a long moment, the weight of reality settling over me like chains tightening around my chest. I glance down at her, still nestled against me, her body soft and pliant in my arms, her dark hair splayed over the pillow. I don’t want to leave. Not now. Not when everything feels so… right. So damn perfect.

Carefully, I shift her off of me, pulling the blanket up to cover her. She stirs slightly, her eyes fluttering open in confusion, her lips parting just enough to make my chest tighten. “What’s wrong?” she asks, her voice soft, sleepy, full of a vulnerability that hits me harder than it should.

“I have to go,” I say, my voice tight. “Work.”

Her brow furrows, but she doesn’t argue. She knows this side of me, knows what it means when I get a call like this. She knows that this is part of the darkness I drag behind me. But that doesn’t stop the sinking feeling in my chest as I pull myself away from her warmth, as I start to dress in silence.

The weight of my gun at my side feels heavier tonight. More final. As if stepping into this job means stepping out of her world for too long. But there’s no getting around it.

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