Page 20 of When Sinners Fall
“My ride’s here,” I lie to Bethan, gesturing to the door. “It was lovely catching up. I’ll send you those details.”
The wine’s gone to my head, and I feel a little tipsy, which only emboldens my decision. I walked here from work, so I head back along the River Walk, listening as conversation and laughter spill out from the cafés and bars as I pass.
Anticipation grows as I wait for the hairs on the back of my neck to tickle and the sensation to sweep over me. Hell, I’m practically begging in my mind for it to happen.
The toxic mix of fear, desire, and excitement in my blood infects every fibre of my being, switching off any rational thought.
And it finally happens.
I nearly gasp in relief – another sign this is far from healthy.
I’m only a few blocks from home, and with the alcohol still lingering, I make a decision. I step from my usual path, making a hasty call to disappear down a side street. I follow it to the end before making another turn. It’s nothing more than an alley, and with no streetlights, or shop windows, it’s almost pitch black.
I stop in the middle of the alley and turn.
My heart hammers in my chest as the fear overtakes the other emotions circling in my veins.
I wait.
Seconds seem to last a lifetime until a dark silhouette emerges.
Fear should be overtaking me now, and my flight reflex should be pushing me to run, but I stand still because I want to play this out. I need to play out the fantasy of what this is - what he wants with me. And after the other night at the window, well, it seems to have unlocked a part of me that likes the thought of this stranger wanting me.
He continues towards me until he’s towering over me, but even this close, I can’t make out his face. It’s still hidden in the shadows of his hood and the blackness all around. And I like the anonymity.
The buzz in my ears and the tremor in my hands tell me one thing, but there’s a knot in my stomach that’s nothing to do with nerves and everything about desire.
I step back and position myself with a wall to my back.
He continues to stalk my movements until he’s standing right before me. Waiting.And that’s when the thread of realism snakes into my mind. This is a stranger - he could be anyone, and I’ve voluntarily walked into danger.
I take a sharp gasp as I realise my own stupidity, ready to move, to leave, but he crowds me further and presses his lips to mine - hard. The action is like a bolt of lightning setting fire to my senses. He tastes of smoke and spice, and the scrape of his stubble brushing my chin helps to conjure an image of him in my mind.
He breaks away, and I’m doused in disappointment.
“I’m not sure…” I start, but his hand slams against my mouth, backing me up against the wall harshly.
“Shh,” he whispers in my ear, and embarrassingly, all it does is make my pussy throb.
He keeps his head to the side and doesn’t release his hand from my mouth. My fingers inch up my skirt at my hips, sliding the hem up, and then I reach for his free hand, guiding it to where I want him to touch.
The pressure against my mouth doesn’t stifle the loud moan as his fingers touch my skin, and I widen my stance.
I count the seconds… one, two…
He tears at my panties and plunges his fingers inside of me, and I’m overcome.
“Fuck,” he murmurs.
It’s sexy and dirty, and I want to hear more.
I grab his arm and press it deeper, showing him that I want it harder. His fingers twist up inside of me instantly, and my legs turn weak as he works me up.
“Fuck me.” My words come out mumbled with his hands still covering my mouth, but he understands.
He wrenches his fingers away, and the jangle of his belt is welcome. I hitch my skirt higher, and I feel the tip of his cock, playing at my entrance.
Is this mad?
