Page 31 of Strangled
I bring my fingers to my lips and suck them into my mouth, wrapping my tongue around each individual digit. Lucian grumbles, and the floor creaks as he steps toward me. My heart hikes at the sound of his footsteps, adrenaline surging at the promise of his body drawing closer to mine.
When he steps out from the shadows, his tall frame coming perfectly into view, my breath catches. Dark hair frames his eyes and neck. They’re surprisingly light, but there’s a darkness to them, an incomprehensible amount that dims their light.
It’s still dark, but the faintest light glows from the corner—a lamp, perhaps—it gives me ample light to take him in. He’s real—clothed in dark, worn clothes. Cobwebs cling to the material, as if it’s a part of his clothing.
Lucian.
He’s so tall, his head is crooked to the side as he stands at his full height, just off-centered to the room. My gaze trails over his face greedily, over the blood slowly trickling from his nose and every thick scar. They twist and wrap around his features. Over half of his face is dominated by them, his nose partially missing, and his ear burned into the rest of his flesh, nearly nonexistent.
I notice his hair covers most of his face, almost as if he grows it out to hide what’s underneath.
His gaze is narrowed in my direction, one nostril flared, like he’s waiting for the inevitable disgust I’ll portray.
He’s wrong.
I let my fingers slip from between my lips. They brush over my chin on their departure, smearing spit over my skin. I’m unsteady as I push myself to my feet. Lucian steps forward, his presence dominating the small space. The creaking coming from somewhere behind me morphs into the background as I step into him and press my lips against his.
When he touched me before, I felt the difference of his skin, the thick grooves and warped texture. It didn’t deter me. In fact, the rough skin only ignited a deeper lust in my veins.
Lucian stiffens as I mold my mouth to his, tasting and taking him for all that he is—blood, sweat, hunger, anddeath.
It doesn’t take more than a second for his arms to siphon around me, crushing me against him. It’s painful. I gasp, despite having expected it. The sound of my pain only spurs Lucian on. He growls, his fingers clawing at my head as they dig into my scalp. He drags them down my nape before stopping at the collar of my mesh shirt.
He grips it and brutally tugs backward. The material constricts around my throat, choking me as he pulls. My body tries to move with it, to relieve the pressure, even in the slightest, but Lucian holds me tight.
After what feels like endless moments of minimal oxygen, the material rips, splitting open and relieving me of its obstruction. It falls from my torso, the shredded shirt dangling off my arms. I gasp into his mouth as he tugs it the rest of the way off, and the feverish, damp air washes over me.
I have a feeling it would be cooler if I didn’t have Lucian suffocating me with his oppressive heat. His mouth trails down my jaw, biting and sucking his way across. All I can do is stand limp in his arms as he takes utter control of me.
And I let him. Because it feels too fucking good.
My pants are quick to follow the same fate as my shirt, and I’m left standing, panting and nude, in front of the man who lives in the walls.
The reality of the situation I’m in should terrify me. In fact, it does. I’ve never been more unsettled in my life—of his… creepy disposition—but I can’t fucking ignore how good it feels. To be wanted, to be pursued.
He watched me through his holes, probably since the moment I moved in—or maybe even before. He skyrocketed my paranoia. He played games with me, made me think I was hearing shit that wasn’t there.
He stalked me, touched me without me knowing. He hurt someone right in fucking front of me.
But he protected me, kept me safe. He touches me like he’s starved and can’t get enough, like he’s afraid if he doesn’t hold onto me so tight, I’ll fucking disappear.
That feeling, the feeling of being someone’s fuckingpossession,to be that vital—it trumps everything else and makes it all fade into that background with little importance.
Fingers wrap around my dick, hot and tight—just like the ones through the wall. I groan, my head rolling back as his mouth sucks me in. I slide into the back of his throat, and he swallows around me.
“Fuck,” I mumble, my fingers fisting in his sweaty hair. It feels surreal to touch him like this. Further proof this couldn’t possibly be in my fucking head.
My touch does something to him. Without warning, he pulls off my cock and shoves me to the floor. The force rips my hand from his hair. Strands are wrapped around my fingers as he grabs my hips and lifts my ass into the air.
I’m painfully aware of my nudity as he buries his nose in my crack. I can feel the air whistling against my skin as he inhales deeply. My face floods with heat, thinking about his cum mixed with hours of sweat and dirt clinging to my skin, but he doesn’t seem to care.
His tongue flicks over my hole, and I arch into the intrusion. His tongue sinks deep, teeth scraping against my taint as he fuckingdevours me.
All I hear are his unintelligible grumbles and groans. All I feel is his mouth on me—licking, biting, eating. All I see is the crumbling, decayed floor below, my forearms braced against it while Lucian keeps me pinned in place with a hand against the base of my spine.
I’m hot all over. Sweat drips from me, adding a chilled surge to the room.
His blunt head presses against my relaxed hole. I bear down, moaning so fucking loudly my ears ring as he shoves his way in. I’m tight—too tight—and it burns so good.
