Page 3 of Moth to a Flame

I hate myself for falling for it. I loathe myself for being unable to stop it.

A minute.

That’s how long I manage to keep my cock in my jeans when her image comes up on the screen. Like every other night over the past two weeks, I take myself out and fuck my hand while watching her.

Doing it is a far cry from abstinence. Squeezing myself harder, having precum leak from the tip, that’s not it, either.

Groaning and biting my bottom lip, I make myself bleed and imagine it’s her I’m sinking my teeth into.

God, fuck, it feels good. In fact, nothing about sitting in my leather armchair and fixing my eyes on my laptop feels bad, wrong, or disastrous. I’m not going to reach in and strangle her just so that I could be the only man in her life.

I’m indulging myself. Because of her.

I’m so fucked.

We both are.

“You have no right. You have no right to be this beautiful. This gorgeous and innocent and perfect and not mine.”

Except she is mine. In the darkness of the night, I can admit it to myself.

Tomorrow, she won’t be.

Until then, there’s only one man in her world. Me.

My balls tighten as I watch her in her small living room in Brooklyn. The reminder that I dug into her personal information and found out where she lives sends another shot of electricity up my spine and, fuck, I’m close.

Fuck, she’s so naïve. Waiting for me there, sitting there on her dark blue loveseat, flipping pages in a book with her feet propped up. The woman crawls under my skin, poisons my blood.

Makes me want to spank her until she cries. Until she calls me her only one.

Iamher only one.

“Look at you, Miss Everglow,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with lust.

Her dark brown hair rolls in waves down her back, her brown eyes mesmerized by the horror book she’s reading.The Necro and His Girl.

Like I give a fuck about the book. I care about her thick thighs and how I want my arms around her soft stomach while I hugher at night. While I sink into her as she sleeps and fuck her from behind.

“You’re safe. So safe, little lamb.” My hand squeezes tighter as I rub myself from root to tip. The friction hurts. Hurts so fucking good. “I’m not there to ruin you. Not there to bend you over that loveseat, shove your leggings down your legs, tear your panties in half. The things I’d do to you.”

She shifts, her pouty lips parting at what she reads.

“My fingers will be buried in your hips.” My chest heaves with every breath. My cock thickens, and I’m so close. “You’ll scream when I’ll go all the way in. One push and I’ll be deep inside your cunt, my legs pinned to your thighs. I’ll tilt your ass up for me, hold you in place, and rut into you. I’ll watch my cock going in and out of your pussy, watch you soak me.”

In the safety of her home, she flips through another page in the book. Her fingers are delicate, her nails painted black.

Just like mine. If this isn’t fate, I don’t know what is.

“Then I’ll reach my arm around you, slide my hand down your navel. I’ll worship every patch of your skin. Beat you with my cock while my fingers delve into that spot…” My grunt echoes in the empty den. “I’ll force five orgasms out of you. Five before I come deep inside that pussy. Before I mark you. Before I…”

Can’t say it. Won’t say it.

I do.

“Before I fuck babies into you.”

The idea of saying that to her pushes me over the edge. I never thought about having children. Don’t want to hurt them, which I inevitably will.

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