Chapter 3: The Unblinking Hour

The bedroom was dead quiet, the air heavy like the stillness right before a heavy rain, smelling of dust and wet earth coming in through the window cracks. A pale light dropped from the ceiling, washing over the floorboards. I stood right in the middle of the room, my chest pounding against my ribs like something trying to break out and run away. My body was burning hot, head spinning, that deep ache between my legs making me crazy. I wanted him bad, no shaking about it, and I wanted him right now before I lost my mind completely.

I rushed for my dress zipper, my fingers clumsy and shaking as I fought the cloth. Before I could pull it down, his hand caught my wrist. Hard.

He moved fast, stepping right out of the dark corners like he had been standing there the whole time. Not a single word left his mouth. He just stared down at me till a quiet breath left his lips, freezing my legs right where they stood. His skin felt like cold stone against my hot pulse. He tilted his head, watching me heavy, making me feel naked all over under his gaze.

Then his hands steady. He worked the buttons and zipper down, dragging his knuckles across my collarbone and slowly down my neck. It felt cold like ice touching my skin, dragging out the shivers till the dress dropped all the way to the floor and I stood there shaking in the open air.

His fingers hit my underwear lace, and he stopped right there. A hot wave of shame hit my chest. I knew how I looked—soaked, dripping, showing every bit of my desperate self without trying to hide it anymore.

I tried pulling back, reaching down to cover myself, but his hand stayed fixed like iron on my hip.

He dropped to his knees right in front of me, his eyes locked on mine with a dark, heavy hunger. He leaned in close, caught the edge of the cloth with his teeth, and gave a slow pull. The tearing sound echoed loud and sharp in the quiet room. It felt like embarrassing rubbish, but I couldn't make myself stop him even if I tried. The last piece fell away, leaving me completely open to the air and totally at his mercy.

Then his hands touched me. Slow at first, his freezing fingers tracing all over my wet skin. He rubbed my thighs and pushed them apart wide so nothing was hidden from him. He started teasing me right there, swirling his fingers round my hot spot while his other hand gripped my hip tight to keep me from moving away.

He leaned close, blowing a cold breath right on my wet place, and I shivered mad because my body heat and his ice breath clashed crazy together. Then his tongue dragged right up the middle, tasting how soaked I was. I let out a loud gasp, grabbed his hair, and pulled him down harder against me.

He didn't rush at all. He licked my soft skin over and over, his flat tongue lapping up my wetness like someone drinking water after a long trekking in the sun. His mouth covered me completely, sucking gentle while his thumb kept rubbing my clitoris in circles. My legs started shaking bad. I threw my head back and bit my lip, but small noises kept bursting out of my throat. Every time his tongue pushed inside, I whimpered loud.

His mouth followed down, leaving hot, wet kisses on my tummy and thighs, tasting every single spot till his cold tongue slid right inside, burying deep, his tongue working hard on my clitoris and sending a sharp shock straight to my brain.

I was breaking apart. I spread my legs wider, clutching his shoulders, choking out, “Omo... put it inside me. Please put it inside me, I need you.”

I was soaked, aching non-stop. I clawed at the bed sheets, arching up till he finally shifted. He lunged forward, driving straight inside me with a heavy push that knocked the wind clean out of my lungs. It felt so thick, so huge. He put a pillow under my hips to lift me up, his knees bent as he pounded full force, filling me completely.

It turned into hours of a steady, heavy rhythm, the bed screaming against the floorboards as he kept driving without taking one single stop. Not my first time, but I had never seen this kind of thing—hours of him never getting tired, never sweating, never even catching his breath. He drove in with a blank focus, his eyes fixed on nothing, staring straight through me into the dark room.

I caught his eyes for a second, swearing the pupils stretched long and weird, not human at all. I blinked hard, and they were normal again. I wondered if the shadows were just playing games with my head because of the heat.

The room seemed to shrink around us, the darkness pressing in from the corners while the relentless rhythm kept going on and on. I could hear the faint sound of the wind outside shaking the old window frames, but inside it was just the wet slap of skin and my own ragged breathing echoing off the walls. My legs felt heavy like lead, wrapped tight around his waist as I tried to keep up with a pace that defied any normal human strength. Every time I thought he might slow down, he pushed harder, driving deep into my core until my thoughts dissolved into pure white noise.

My skin was slick with sweat, mixing with the cool air of the room to send goosebumps all over my arms, even though inside I felt like I was burning up from the inside out. I reached up, my fingers tangling in his dark hair again, pulling him down so I could feel his breath against my neck, rough and freezing all at once.

I gave up fighting it. I dropped every bit of pride, letting go completely as I moved with him into the dark, shaking over and over again against my hot skin. Tired, dripping, and aching everywhere, I was still begging for more, my voice cracking as I whispered nonsense into the quiet. My tummy felt sore and tight from the heavy pace. He acted like a fine gentleman with his calm face, but he tore into me like a wild dog that finally caught meat. I was totally his now—a prisoner in a dark house, drowning in a sweet pain like a curse I never wanted to escape.