47. Lia

47

LIA

"I've already lost one forever. Don't make me lose another one."

—Sarah, from One of a Thousand Wishes by A. R. McGeorge

W hen I saw Rhaim's face again, underneath the grey sky behind him, I instantly knew I'd gone too far. The ferocity of his expression made me take a step back on sheer instinct.

But that movement was like blood in the water for a shark—and a second later he was sprinting up the hill for me.

I shrieked and turned to run away.

I didn't know what we were doing now, but it didn't feel like we were playing.

I had a feeling I was about to get punished, whether I wanted to be or not.

I raced down the back of the hill for the nearest cluster of small stone buildings. I was barefoot, I stepped on things that hurt me, and marble tombstones clipped my hips as I raced by them without enough space, knowing all the time that he was gaining.

I finally reached the crypts, each a foreboding monument to timeless love, and ran to the back of one to hide, putting my hands over my mouth so he wouldn't hear me panting.

I needed him to outpace me, so that I could double back to my car. I'd dropped my heels in my terror, but I was still holding my keys.

"I come here all the time, Lia!" he called out from far too close. "I know exactly where I am—do you?"

I made myself small. One of my legs was bleeding from several small scratches, my hair was plastered to me, and the oppressive humidity made me feel like I couldn't breathe.

"Do you know what I'm going to do to you when I find you?" he asked, this time from even closer. I bit my lips so as not to squeak. "I'm going to give you what you want, little girl—but it won't be the way you want it."

I could feel my throat closing, as my heart tried to burst free from my chest. Then I saw him, walking past me, looking the other way, just seconds from turning and seeing me.

I bolted like a rabbit, and he gave chase.

I made it to the outskirts of the cluster of crypts, but then I was tackled, one moment running, the next falling down, his much greater weight overhead, knocking the air out of my lungs. I tried ineffectually to buck him off, but it didn't work, he grabbed my wrists one by one, while I twisted, trying to escape.

"Lia!" I heard him bellow in my ear—and realized he'd been shouting my name more than once, I just hadn't been able to hear it over the sound of my pounding heart. I froze. "Tell me what kind of car you drive!" he shouted, now that he knew he had my attention.

I realized what he was trying to do—to make me give him my safe word.

Trying to get me to give up.

But I couldn't, where he was concerned. Not now—not ever. "No!" I shouted back.

I both felt and heard his rough breathing over me, feeling the scrape of his shirt's buttons against my back, and then he rose up, freeing me. I spun beneath him on the ground and found his expression cruel, the corner of one lip lifted in a snarl, his normally perfect hair in rough pieces around his face, and his eyes—I had never seen them be so dark.

He was quiet for long enough to remind me of the clouds behind him, the stone all around us, and the silent souls beneath us, hidden by the earth. Then he moved to standing.

"Get up," he commanded, without offering me a hand. "Get up, get over there," he said, pointing to a hip-height marble slab nearby, "and show me your goddamned cunt."

I stood slowly, shaking from adrenaline, the chill, and fear, walking away from him while facing him.

I didn't want to take a single moment for granted—I was worried if I blinked, if I turned away even once, that, like Eurydice, he would disappear.

So I reached behind me to find the massive piece of cold marble with a hand. Once I did, I took hold of my hem, turning to face the sarcophagus, slowly pulling my skirt up until I felt a breeze caress my ass, before reaching back to tug my lacy black underwear to the side as I leaned down.

His presence wasn't immediate—I didn't know whether or not he was thinking of leaving me there—and I was scared he was, until I heard the sound of him unzipping his slacks along with distant thunder. A moment later I felt him parting me without warning, spreading me, pushing in his tip.

"So fuckin' wet," he murmured, and I knew he wasn't talking about the rain.

I felt him ease himself inside, bit by bit, stretching me wide with a low purr. Then he stopped, and suddenly my world was ending. My panic was only quieted by hearing his deep baritone.

"I'm only going to ask you once, Lia—do you want this?"

I looked over my shoulder so I could see his face, his expression heavy with concentration—and so he could see mine, too, trying to tell him this was all I'd ever wanted with my eyes.

"Yes," I proclaimed—and he shoved the rest of himself inside with a grunt.

I gasped and squealed—he was so much longer than I'd ever imagined, far past the point I'd ever used my toys. His hands squeezed my hips tighter, like he thought I might run away. "Yeah?" he said, but I realized it was a taunt, he wasn't really asking.

I still answered him though. "Yes," I panted. "Yes, please, sir."

He'd settled himself deep, giving me a chance to relax and stretch out, and it was everything I'd ever hoped for. He was finally fucking in me, we were finally fucking, oh—fuck— fuck ?—

"Oh God—" I warned, then went up on my toes. I was full of him at last, not even a condom in the way—"Oh—fuck—fuck— fuck —" I hissed.

I couldn't help it—I came.

I made a mess of myself, wriggling as much as I could on his stiff cock, my pussy clasping him, trying to draw him in and keep him there, while I made repeated high-pitched cries that faded into soft, exhausted moans.

I flushed bright red, ashamed to have been conquered so quickly, but then I felt an almost overwhelming sense of relief.

He was here. With me. Just like I'd always wanted.

At last.

I collapsed forward onto the cold marble stone, my tears hidden by the rain.

And then I heard him give a laugh behind me so wicked it made me hide my face in my hands. "My poor dick-hungry little girl," he crooned, cruel. "Did you need some more?"

There was no point in pretending I was above it after my body had just outed me so thoroughly. "Yes," I whispered.

He made a pleased sound. "Good." He pulled himself almost all the way out and then plunged back in.

I groaned as he landed. So did he—and then he kept going, thudding into me with an inevitability that I had waited for my entire life.

I couldn't stop myself from crying out. I'd never had anyone so big in me before, and I liked that, because I wanted everything with him to be new. Each stroke took my breath away, it felt like he was making me fit him, and I wanted that too. He was all the way at the back of me, and I already couldn't breathe because of the moment and the cold and the way he was crushing me—I curled forward, my fingers splayed out against the stone below me, trying to brace against getting shamelessly fucked, just the way I needed.

I didn't want to be able to walk away at the end of this—I only wanted to crawl.

We were in a fucking cemetery, and I knew his sweet dead wife might be beneath me, but it didn't change a thing.

It was so fucking wrong—but it felt so fucking right .

I was shivering, freezing except for the hot point where we met, where his cock wouldn't stop savaging me, just like his name. I made crazy sounds, not caring, and as for him, he fucking speared me, again and again, until the friction— oh Christing-fuck the friction—each of his thrusts scraping my panties against my clit?—

"Don't stop," I begged, and all I got in return was a growling snarl. "I mean it—oh!" I inhaled, held it, and then came with a screaming shudder, my hips thudding into the cold stone as my orgasm folded me. "Oh my God," I whispered, as he kept taking me. "Oh—my God?—"

He stepped closer, grabbing my hips and picking them up, so that my toes completely left the ground and he hit a new part deep inside.

"God's not here, little girl—there's only Daddy," he said, and my eyes rolled back in my head.