Lola

Hey! I love reading and writing romantic thrillers. Any feedback is greatly appreciated, my work is 🔞🩷

Lola

Hey! I love reading and writing romantic thrillers. Any feedback is greatly appreciated, my work is 🔞🩷

You’re It!

Lola

2 min read

The silver Mercedes rolled to a stop, its gleaming bright headlights casting the two young women in an almost angelic glow. Almost.

Eric, the sixty-year-old, unkept, and leering, leaned out of the window. His vision not what it was, but still, he saw the two beautiful women before him, and couldn't believe his luck. They were alone, in the middle of absolutely nowhere. No chance of a signal, and their frames were narrow and weak, he thought. He saw their grateful smiles and knew then that their fate was sealed.

“Hop in girls, I have daughters myself, I’d hate to think of them alone like this.” He gestured for them to get in, their smiles appreciative.

They slid into the backseat and upon further inspection of him, they suddenly burst out laughing. Eric started the car quickly, engaging the child locks before they could make a move to exit.

He mirrored their smiles, ”What’s so amusing ladies?”

The girls looked at one another, Emily rolled her eyes, “Ugh you won, again, how do you get them right every time.”

Clara wore a smug expression on her face, “Intuition, that’s all.”

Eric’s vision burned into his front mirror, spotting the girl's nearness and immediately arousal coursed through him, this would be thrilling, he thought.

“Can I be privy to this inside joke girls?”

They both turned to him with startling synchronicity, Emily spoke for them, ”Oh it's more of a bet really, one of us guesses who will come by next. Clara won this time, bald and glasses.”

Eric’s brows furrowed, his head tilted ,”I See, is this a regular thing you ladies do? Getting rides from strangers? What’s the prize for winning?” Eric took them in a moment longer drinking their revealing outfits in, adorning their young flesh.

Clara answered this time, ”You.”

With that Clara gripped the wire thrusting it around Eric’s jugular, Emily then sliced his flesh with her knife, spattering blood across the windscreen. He wriggled underneath their grasp but to no avail, was trapped. His limp body slouched against the seat as he drew his last breath.

The car jolted, sputtering and moaning as it drove head-on into a tree.

Thankful they hadn’t been driving very fast Clara turned to Emily ,”I love you,” she whispered.

Action

Thriller

But She’s So Beautiful..

Lola

1 min read

I can’t remember the first time she spoke to me, only that she hasn’t stopped speaking since. It’s a strange relationship I have with her. At times I can beg for her to be there, and in others plead for her to leave.

She appears all the time, wherever I am. She’s an incredible listener, always willing to offer advice. In fact lately, her advice has been more insistent. It’s become, I don’t want to say commanding but.. she’ll appear sometimes when I haven’t asked her to, ‘suggest’ that I do things I would never normally do. I only wanted some help at first, some guidance here and there, but I find myself reliant on her now. Every decision I make is with her in mind, because I know that if i dont, she’ll be furious with me.

I thought she was so alluring at first, so beautiful. She helped so much, she helped me achieve so much, things I never could have without her help. But now, now I’m not sure who I even am anymore.

I began to withdraw myself, she suggested I should cut off my friends, and that my family were poison for me. They were stopping me from reaching my full potential, she’d said.

I’m not certain how it even began, oh wait, no. I think I do remember the first day I met her. The first time I spoke with the devil.

I wanted to lose a few pounds.

Thriller

Accomplice~Part 3

Lola

8 min read

“Get in the front.” He orders from behind me, not leaving an inch for me to breathe, I suppose I should take it as a compliment that he thinks I can run with a flesh wound.

I take in the sleek vehicle one hundered and thirty two steps from my front door, no, I don’t know why I counted. A matte black sedan, perfect for his elusive behaviour. I can hardly see my reflection in the window, they might aswell be painted black, so much for making a signal to someone. Fuck.

He stays within inches of me, not moving from my side, I suppose he shouldn’t trust me. I will try again. I just have to be smart. In his company, and my limited options, I’m not sure how the hell im going to achieve that.

Wait. My phone must have some sort of tracking, right? If my mom called the police, they could track it. My gut churns at how much time would have to go by for her to do that, and how much time he would have with me.

How long is it before a person is considered missing? I did file that report though and that officer will be expected to check in with someone soon, surely?

What did he do with him though? If he tapped into my phone, he’d have no issues with the police radios. But they must be suspicious, they must come and look for me.

I get into the sleek vehicle, surprised when he switches the seats heaters on immediately. It doesn’t feel right to be warm, I want to be cold. Alert. Ready.

My attention is suddenly bought to the throbbing in my foot, god that doesn’t feel right, the plug must have gone through something, it shouldn’t hurt this bad. I squeeze my hands against the pain, biting my inner cheek until I draw blood.

The warmth under my seat hits my foot, bringing my attention to the area far more than I’d like it to, a whimper escapes me before I can control it.

His head whips to me, “1-10?”

I reel at his casual question given the diabolical situation.

“Nine.” I breathe though my nose, trying to think of anything but the pain. I’ve never felt a feeling like it, it’s one of those so intense it takes you everything not to just throw up.

His brows draw and his hand rests on the wheel, he’s debating what to do. I mean what can he do, he can’t take me to a hospital, he can’t risk that.

“I’ll get you something stronger soon. Until then I need you to calm your breathing, getting worked up will only heighten your perception of the pain.”

Breathing? Is he joking? Oh I’m sorry, I’ll just breathe better, that way I won’t feel the effects of a plug being embedded into my skin.

“In for four, through the stomach.” His voice is detached, like a surgeon handing me the scalpel to my own flesh.

“Hold it for three.”

I hold it, focusing my gaze on the street sign in front of us.

“Exhale for six. Slowly.”

I repeat this until I actually feel my heart start to calm down.

“Are you a doctor? How did you know to do that? You knew about my foot too.”

He looks over my face quickly, a dismissive glance at best , not bothering to respond. Maybe he is? Or just trained as one?

I don’t think an actual qualified doctor would spend his Tuesday nights on pave ways removing mens teeth though.

I continue breathing as he instructed and manage to distract myself from the pain. Instead focusing on the numbers I follow in sequence of my breaths.

He switches the engine on, the stark lights illuminating our dark surroundings.

We drive in silence and my heart begins to beat faster as the journey goes on. Fuck. Im running out of time. I have to do something. Anything, to get me out of this fucking car. I can’t let this happen. Because once I step out of here, my life is over.

I sneak a glance at his wheel and the side of his car door, this isn’t an old model he could lock our doors in a matter of seconds, it would probably take him less time to draw a gun. I’m screwed. I watch his face, he looks calm, it’s strange, he looks detached. I hate it. It’s like he doesn’t care, like he might as well have been taking his elderly mother shopping, it means that little to him. Strangely, he doesn’t drive fast like I’d expected him to, instead with a cool precision that I suppose fits him quite well.

We turn a corner and a few dimly lit gated houses come into view, large ones at that, no, mansions. God, money meant power. Money meant rich white men who wanted nothing more than to step on those beneath them, not caring who they hurt. We stop just before the last house on the row, fuck this must be it. I was counting on him stopping for fuel, maybe being able to signal to someone at a red light but it’s just my luck that each set of lights we came to were green.

He stops the engine and for the first time all night I’m certain I can sense something in him, a tension. His eyes lock onto me as he turns, he looks focused.

“Ava, I need you to know that your life depends on the next five minutes.” He says, and I almost reel from the steel in his voice, it isn’t cold this time though, it isn’t indifferent, it’s concern. And the fact that he, a man who all night has shown not an ounce of emotion, now is showing it, turns my stomach. If I thought he was bad, what or who the hell is in there, causing him to be this tense?

“What? What’s about to happen?” I can barely force the words from my throat, my fear lodges deep into my chest, rendering me unable to speak coherently.

“You should know before you go in there, you need to be prepared.” He intakes a deep breath before continuing.

“I work for an organisation. The things you saw me doing last night, that was a job.” His hand clenches around the wheel, tightening as he looks forward in deep concern. “In short, they know that you know. You’re a loose end now, Ava. But I don’t kill civilians. Fuck.” He looks back to me, his face contorted. “Knowing this information means you are already dead. They sent me to come and collect you. But like I said, I don’t kill civillians.”

What the actual fuck? When I said I want to my life to be a movie I did not mean a horror. My blood runs hotter and I look around, trying to focus on anything other than the dire life threatening information I’ve just been given.

“I don’t understand, if I know this information, if they know what I saw, these people.. this organisation, they’ll kill me on sight, won’t they?” My voice strains.

I put my hand on my chest, forcing myself to calm down, because with the way I was going it wouldn’t be them that would kill me.

“Im going to make a deal with them.”

No no no. I knew this was coming. This is it. This is what he meant, that call, every cryptic thing he said at my house. I might not be dying tonight, but my life will be stolen from me.

“What deal?” I say before thinking, I have to know.

His eyebrow rises a touch, taken aback at my forthcomingness, but this fear ran my blood hot, it had begun to turn into anger, the only thing fueling me.

“There’s a chance it doesn’t work, and in that scenario, well, we can discuss that later. You’re going to convince them, that you won’t say another word about this entire incident.”

What? Has he hit his head? In what world would that have any effect?

“How? How will that achieve anything? They know I called the police and saw what you did. As soon as they see me, they’ll kill me.”

He shakes his head, resistant to accept my protests,”Ava this isn’t something I’ve only just thought about. I know them, I know what I’m doing, Put your trust in me.”

I scoff, because that’s all I can do, can he hear himself?

He continues when I say nothing, “You’re going to plead, Ava. You’re going to tell them how you have no interest in divulging our ‘activies‘, you only called the police because you thought I was a threat to you, you make it clear that you just want to be left alone. They’ll see you as less of a threat because you’re a woman, they won’t think you’re smart enough to do anything with any information you have.”

I have no words, I think the fear almost entirely leaves me.

“This woman managed just fine reporting every detail to the police, ones that would incriminate you immediately. Did you know I remembered the reg? No of course not, how’s a ditzy thing like me going to do that, when she’s so defenceless and scared.” I find my chest moving rapidly after I finish, he looks almost.. impressed?

“I don’t subscribe to their beliefs Ava, they’re bad men, but sexism is the lowest on the list of your worries.”

Still, the anger doesn’t burn any less, I suppose it’s helping, if I’m not fearful I can think clearly.

The throbbing in my foot seems to worsen, the heat from the car seeming to intensify it.

He follows my line of sight as I stare at my ankle, he pulls a small leather case from the glove compartment, his knuckles grazing my thighs. Rows of boxes sit there, that can’t be what he meant by something stronger? When he pulls one of those boxes out I see it says toradol? What the fuck? How did this guy have medical grade meds? I only knew the name from when my grandfather had his hip replacement, he was on drip with the stuff for days, I consider saying no but the pain in my foot heats my blood with a nausea that would have me passing out if I didn’t do something.

“Two of these and the pain will subside.”

He hands me the pills and a bottle of water, I have half a thought that he could have drugged the water, but I suppose he could have done that at any point and his speech earlier about not wanting to kill civilians rang true to me. He isn’t necessarily trustworthy but he seems to be the type to not bother lying, like he didn’t care for it, like it was a waste of his time.

I took the pills, their sizely shape taking a few more mouthfuls of water to get down properly. He watches me swallow them, following the action of the water flowing down my throat.

He looks at me a moment, an intense stare. He looks contemplative, like, ‘should I really do this?’

“I said you wouldn’t be harmed Ava, my word is my bond.”

I don’t know why he bothers telling me to be honest, it’s not as if I have a choice. My heart begins thumping against my ribcage, the motion rocking my body in a frantic rhythm.

I don’t have a choice, I just need to convince them, he knows them best, I need them to think I don’t care.

Crime

Thriller

Serpent

Lola

8 min read

“You look like you’re good with computers.” The man in line jabs at me, not a question but a statement.

Huh?

I take in his attire, cargo pants and a t-shirt a shade of beige that should have been left in the 80’s. His dusty blonde hair was past receding, his eyes a little too blue.

I’d always found you find at least one strange person in an airport, it bought out the weirdest parts of people. The way that everyone thinks their own family is strange, and then you see a family together and are reminded they have their own quirks and routines.

“Uh, thanks I guess?” I respond, turning back toward the check-in desk.

“Could I get your passport and boarding pass please sir?” The smiley brunette chirps at me. Fuck she was stunning, we do not deserve women.

After checking my luggage and papers she lets me go, her eyes and smile lingering on mine a moment longer than necessary, I hold her gaze with a smile, causing her cheeks to heat.

Fucking focus Nate, Jesus.

After grabbing a coffee, I hear a commotion to my left, my head whips to the counter I just stood at. The strange guy screams at the woman at the desk, demanding her to look again. Nothing I hate more than men who think it is acceptable to scream at the creatures who bought us into the fucking world in the first place.

Where the fuck is the security in this place? I abandon my coffee, not in the mood for this snivelling dick. I stride over toward the desk, “Is there a problem here?”

“Yeah, this fucking idiot cannot do her job properly. I told her the passport is new, she’s saying it’s fake.” He spits, his poor dental hygiene invading my personal space.

“The question wasn’t for you.” I retort in his direction. I turn towards the woman, her shoulders relaxing a little when I push the freak off of the desk and out of her personal space.

“Well I checked three times as he requested but his identification isn’t verified, there’s an issue with his passport, he’s not on any of the databases. I’m afraid there isn’t anything I can do.” She professes, her eyes shooting down, shame in her expression.

“You heard her, take it up with someone else.”

His eyes narrow, his canines flashing as he sneers, “Typical fucking woman, you can never do anything right can you? Fuck this.” He begins to walk away, but my better judgment decides against it. I grab his collar, smashing the front of his body to the desk.

“Apologise.” My voice, nothing short of lead, commands him.

“GET THE FUCK OFF ME. WHO ARE YOU TO TOUCH ME LIKE THAT?!” He screams in my direction.

“I’m a man you do not want to piss off today, apologise.”

“Dude I don’t know what you’re on, but I will seriously fuck you up if you don’t let go of me right now!” He screams, wriggling within my grasp.

“No, I don’t think you will. I really wouldn’t want to ask a third time.”

The young woman's eyes flick between the two of us, shock plastered on her pretty face. “Sir it’s okay, really, there’s no need, he’s just upset.”

I nearly snarl, furious she feels she has to respond with kindness to this piece of shit.

My head whips to her, spotting her name tag I reply, “Anastasia? You seem lovely, but this pathetic excuse of a human does not deserve your pity.” I make my smile warm, ensuring she doesn’t receive the anger currently flooding me.

She opens her mouth to speak, but then simply nods, Jesus, who made her this compliant?

He squirms underneath my hold tirelessly, and with the glance at the long queue forming behind him, i see that he’s ashamed, not of his own behavior though, I’m sure.

He huffs with an enthusiasm I want to bleed from him. “Fine. I’m fucking sorry alright?” He whispers, his embarrassment evident in his inability to hold eye contact.

“You’re going to try that again and mean it.” I begin squeezing the back of his neck, pressing on the precise tendon that will cause an extreme amount of pain . He screeches, everyone in the airport turning towards our direction. To my left I hear keys jangling, a security guard far past his sell-by date, indulging in what suspiciously looks like something stronger than coffee, slouches towards us.

I remove my hand immediately.

“Everythin’ alright here Annie?” The guard asks, his eyes flicking between the three of us, more concerned about what might as well be a flask than those who he is supposed to be protecting.

“Fine, Cliff. Just a misunderstanding.”

“Mhm, dandy.” I insist. “The gentleman here was just apologising for his curt manner.” I turned to the fuckwit beside me, searing his skin with my stare.

His pathetic body hunches in defeat, his face oozing with resignation for the situation.

“I apologise for the way I spoke to you, it wasn’t acceptable. I think I might have my old one anyway, it’s not expired yet.” He speaks with something I would be convinced is sincerity If my hand wasn’t on his neck a few minutes ago.

After watching the two men then scuttle off towards another desk, I return to the lounge, double checking my gate.

Now closing in 15 minutes.

Fucking fantastic.

I dart past an elderly couple, making a mental I owe you to whoever sat above. After boarding the plane, I find my seat, and as it slowly begins to fill I slump with relief that I’m sat alone.

They announce the safety warnings, and the pilot then babbles on about the weather, it was all just noise at this point.

A quiet ding rings and the pilot announces that another passenger is to be let on, to my miss fucking fortune, it was him.

His eyes dart around and if it weren’t for that being his usual behaviour earlier, I would be concerned. He looks at his ticket and then the letters and numbers above the seats. His gaze stops at my row. No. No fucking way.

He reddens when he sees that I’m the one sitting beside him, he hobbles towards me, his eyes looking anywhere but mine. Good.

I have the aisle seat, always do, I like to see what’s going on at all times, “uhm.” He stutters, unable to get his words out,” Would you mind just-“ I don’t fill the sentence for him, or give him any recognition on my face of his presence, he may as well not exist, if he can’t speak for himself, that isn’t my problem, he had no problems speaking earlier.

My 6’6 self gave him no room to move around me, my knees touched the seat in front of me.

“Can I help you sir?” The stewardess asks him, entirely undeserving of her smile.

“No. No thanks. I was just getting to my seat.” He looks at me expectantly.

She nods in acceptance, darting towards her next task.

“So could you budge please dude?” He asks, still unable to hold my eye.

“No, find another fucking seat, in the cargo. Anywhere but next to me.”

His eyes widen, is that surprise? Was my squeezing of his neck, not a clear enough message I can’t stand him?

He mutters something unintelligible, his eyes shooting downward in defeat, he hauls his hand luggage from the floor, trudging off to find a space.

The pilot announces our journey time, listing off some more babble, about the fact this is his last flight before his holiday with his family. I fucking wish. No holiday for me. Work has practically become my holiday, it fills enough of my life, anyway. I don’t mind too much. Keeping my country safe, has its benefits. If I can rid our world of at least one pest, I’m satisfied.

After about an hour in my bladder wins a mental battle, I know it isn’t good but I make a point to never use the restroom on flights, it feels like for even those few minutes I could miss something. Today will have to be that day. I shoot off straight ahead, getting an eyeful of a man’s behind as he picks his kid's toys, fucking Christ couldn’t men grow some and fucking shave down there? It was repulsive, no one should have to go near that. After a few more rows I spot an uncomfortable-looking woman, spaced between two men she clearly didn’t know by the awkwardness in each one of their body languages, and then I look towards her in particular, her body clamped together due to the fucking imbeciles sat each side of her who thought it acceptable to spread their legs to a near 90°.

The one on her left slouched into his seat, immersed in whatever shit was playing on his screen, the one on her right wore a sleazy expression on his face leaning far too right than necessary, impeding the woman’s personal space, fucking pricks.

I was always taught to be subtle, and elusive, to never draw too much attention to myself, but also just enough to blend right in. Sometimes I veer off that course, having to go against my taught instincts.

I place my palm over the man’s screen, his brows drawn in confusion and an angry look on his face as he whips his headphones off, that look quickly diminishes when he locks eyes with me.

“Comfy?” I dart in his direction, entirely rhetorical, I couldnt give two shits how comfortable this guy is.

“Excuse me? Who are you? Is this the airline's uniform nowadays?” He attempts at a joke, an incredulous look on his face, if it were possible given my position above him, he looks down at me, taking in my grey t-shirt and dark blue acid-washed jeans, I was a simple man, and given my work, a subtle one.

“You should want to correct your tone. Are you uncomfortable?” I direct the latter to the lady in the middle, her expression startled when she realises it’s her who I’m talking to.

“Well, I’d prefer more leg room sure.” She says in a sweet tone none of us deserve.

“You heard her, move your fucking legs, have some basic manners, you as well.” I not so lightly tap the shoulder of the guy facing the window, his quick reaction confirming he was indeed listening in.

“Fucking joke.” The guy nearest to me mutters, wow, prick had a death wish.

I survey the area around us finding no staff nearby, lowering myself into a crouch, and the people surrounding us busying themselves with sleep or their families,” What’s your name?” I ask him at a volume only he and I can hear.

He looks puzzled at first, following with,” Who the fuck are you, that’s none of your business.”

I flash a wolfish grin,” You made it my fucking business when you decided to invade this lovely lady's personal space. So I’ll ask you again, what’s your name.” Something in my tone seems to register with him, but instead of compliance, I get panic.

His head darts around quickly, recognising the danger I represent, looking for someone to help him. Fuckwit.

“Look at me.” An unspoken warning resides in my voice and his head snaps to me immediately,” Give me your name.”

He licks his dry lips feverishly, his eyes darting around, not actually looking at anything, biding for time. “Derek.” I roll my eyes, my irritation clear on my face. He reads my expression and continues,” James, Derek James.” His eyes snap downward, his eyes flooded with shame.

I smile at the girl in the middle, her expression startled but appreciative. They're lucky I didn’t cut their legs off with the mood I was in currently.

Action

Accomplice~ Pt 2

Lola

13 min read

I drop my phone on the covers reading and rereading the message. My eyes dart around the room with the knowledge he’s here somewhere. I consider calling out of the window to someone, anyone. I glance at my clock, fuck it’s 11, who would be up? Wait! The officer! Please be here. Please be here.

I move my legs through the air trying to get my weight off of my bed. Without thinking I step onto my floor, before I can take another breath searing pain radiates into my foot. I bend over to see a plug embedded into the heel of my foot. Fuck!

The blood starts to pour from the wound, staining my bedroom Carpet with a deep crimson. I bite at my fist knawing at the flesh, forcing myself into silence. I spot an old shirt on my floor and tie it around my foot, whimpering as the material suffocates the skin of my flesh.

I inhale deeply, a pathetic attempt to centre myself. I drag myself up, my palms and left leg supporting my weight.

I hobble over to my window, avoiding the floorboards that I know will give me away. I’m sure my heart stops right then when I see that the cop car is no longer there, so that’s it? No more than an hour and that’s all the protection I get? Oh god, no no no.

He must’ve taken him out and solved another problem. Why else would he have disappeared?

He must be here to end this, to end me. He can’t have people knowing what he did, he seems to be a man all about tying up loose ends.

I need to get to the front door. That’s my only choice, confrontation is not an option.

I inch my way further over the landing and manage to get down the stairs without a sound. I reach the last step of my staircase. The lights in the kitchen are off. Shit. I make an effort to always keep my kitchen task light on, one too many times have I fallen on my face at 3 AM attempting to get water.

A glance at my bloodied foot quickly reminds me this is not one of those times.

I do a quick scope of the living room and my pulse eases a little when I find that he isn’t in there, but ramps back up when I realise he must be in the only place I haven’t looked. I glance toward the front door to see my key isn’t in there, god now is the time you want to misplace things, Ava?

He might be outside instead? I’m sure I didn’t hear him come in, but then again I’m sure he isn’t unfamiliar with having to be discreet.

I silence my breathing, my elephant footsteps probably making it pointless. I bet he knows my exact location right now anyway, the freak.

When I inch towards my kitchen entrance, I freeze, every muscle in my body seizing, my injury long forgotten with the panic flooding me. At my kitchen table sits a dark figure, his black hoodie covers his head once again. The hoodie clings to his frame, the definition of his muscles visible through the material. The image of yesterday replays in my mind. He could do that to a grown man. What the fuck could he do to me?

Panic claws at my chest and I spot a glint of silver in my peripheral, I dart to my left towards the kitchen island and grab the biggest knife I own. I remember the words of my teacher in high school that you should never use a weapon you wouldn’t wish to be used on you. Well. I’m out of options. She wasn’t against a six-foot-everything psychopath.

I internally kick myself for reporting what I saw, none of this would be happening, was it really worth my life? What if the guy was scum, a lowlife, just another criminal paying his debt.

“Are you going to stand there or use it?”

How on earth did he see that?

He doesn’t turn around, he doesn’t look at me, and I can’t see if he has a weapon from my viewpoint, I would have to look over his shoulder. And that would require nearness I wasn’t all too comfortable with. Why am I kidding myself? His form didn’t come from sitting on the couch, I’m sure his fists would serve him just fine.

“Why are you here?” My voice was barely coherent.

When he doesn’t respond I continue. “I have an alarm that calls the cops, they’re on their way. So you should leave. Now.”

It was only a half lie. I do have one, but I’m certain if I’d have pressed it my death would have come a lot sooner.

“Disabled it.” He responds coolly, as though he anticipated my response.

I stutter as I figure out what to reply to that.

“What do you want from me?”

He doesn’t move from his position, and so I wait for his next move. His next word. He can only be here for one reason. He didn’t appear to be a man fond of small talk, but I don’t understand his approach, why would he not get my death over with? Why is he just sitting there, the apprehension scares me more, the not knowing.

“Tell me exactly what you saw, and do not lie to me, because I’ll know.” He utters, his cadence unfaltering.

A thought occurs to me that if he could get my number and see my phone activity within a matter of mere hours, he would surely know what I said on my phone call.

He wants to know if I’ll lie. But why? Just kill me and leave. What is the point of this?

Mind games maybe? These types always got off on the fear they inflicted, but he wasn’t even looking at me.

“I saw you pulling teeth from a man. and you asked him to give you a name.” I mutter, hoping the truth saves my life.

I shift from one foot to the other, a Cold sweat begins to seep from every pore of my body. My heart Is beating out of my chest, so much so I wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it.

There’s a few moments of silence before the screech of the chair sounds. My grip on the knife tightens, turning my knuckles white. I step back before my spine meets the counter. He moves slowly, purposefully. He tucks the chair under the table, a strange gesture given what I’d witnessed him do.

A killer with manners. Though I suppose in fairness to him, I hadn’t seen him take the man’s life.

I freeze as his eyes lock with mine, he lowers his hoodie, leaving no part of his face cloaked. I step back until my spine hits the dimmer behind me, offering a subtle glow, enough to see him. His green eyes pin me against my counter, and I’m frozen in his stare. His sharp jaw hardens and flexes as he watches me, his expression is blank, giving nothing of his thoughts away.

“Are you going to hurt me?” I blurt out before thinking. I have to know. I can’t sit in this fear much longer, he has me practically cornered. I’m paralysed with fear, I’m not sure if I even could run from him now.

His expression remains stoic, unmoving. “I need you to come with me.” He says with an eery calm, his tone suggesting it wasn’t a request. What? No. I’m not being sold as some toy, or whatever this freak had in mind. No. Not a chance.

I start shaking my head profusely, unable to find the words to protest. I bite back the tears, unwanting to show any weakness.

“This is your only option, Ava. You won’t be harmed. I’ll explain further when we arrive.” He says emotionless.

My muscles tense at his use of my name. On text it was eery, but in person? This felt far too real.

I knew what this meant, books, movies, and shows, all had the same ending.

“No, please, no.” I shake my head, my eyes begin to water, each tear slipping down with a might I wish I had right now.

He cocks a brow, unimpressed. “It wasn’t a request, Ava. We’re leaving. Now.”

He walks toward me, his lengthy strides quickly consuming the space between us.

I cradle my arms to myself, thinking that somehow it will stop this from happening. “Just tell me where we’re going. Please.” My voice cracks, as I plead with him.

He remains emotionless, unbothered by the fact that I was distraught. Why would I expect any less?

He sighs quietly, “I can’t tell you that. I can tell you, coming with me will save your life.”

Why do I have to be so nosy, why didn’t I just go back home and pretend nothing happened. Fuck my moral compass, because I’m sure it’s just gone and gotten me killed.

My mind floods with images of the worst outcome, I’m strung up, in some shitty warehouse, being sold to the highest bidder I’m immediately doused in fear and something in me seems to switch, that whatever I have to do, I will not go there.

I manage to find my voice and swallow my panic. “No. No way. I’m not going to be fucking sex trafficked or whatever you and your people do.” I spit at him, wiping my tear-soaked cheeks.

His lips twitch, and part of me itches to know what just crossed his mind. “It wasn’t a request, Ava. You should know by now that I’m not a good man. I’ll have no problem being a terrible one. Easy or hard way, you choose.” He states, unbothered by my pleas. He doesn’t have a shred of humanity within him. He can’t.

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to find calm because I’m certain at any given moment my heart will give out.

When I reopen my eyes he scans my face, looking for something.

His expression hardens, not stern but stone.

Does he really have no empathy? My mind flicks back to that night, shutting that thought down entirely, of course, he doesn’t. You don’t exactly pull out a man’s teeth with a spanner and then proceed to wear your heart on your sleeve.

The minute I stepped foot in front of him he’s shown me nothing but coldness not a flicker of anything even comparable to sympathy, he doesn’t give a single fuck.

I die here painfully, definitely, or I go with him with the possibility of not dying, but also possibly something much worse.

“You won’t be harmed.”

His previous words ring in my head, he sounded so serious, maybe even sincere. Truth seemed to be an integral thing to him, was he doing me the same honour I did him?

I could flag someone from his car? If he filled his tank, I could run. I’d long accepted at this moment that witness protection was my only hope for coming out of this situation alive, so be it.

“How long will I be gone?” I ask Montone, though internally my emotions were beginning to bubble over.

“No more questions, Ava. I need you to be compliant and silent. This will be over a lot sooner if you follow my instructions.” His voice is somehow even colder than before.

I wonder what he would sound like if he were to get angry, with those piercing eyes and a voice that could command thousands, I burn that imagery from my mind.

A low humming vibration sounds throughout the kitchen, snapping me from my thoughts.

He moves with fluidity, retrieving the phone from his pocket. ”What is it?” He says into the phone with an icy indifference. I was half relieved it wasn’t just me he treated with such hostility. So it wasn’t personal. At least not entirely.

My heart pounds as words are exchanged, I Can’t bear not knowing what would happen to me or where I would be going. I'm so panicked I almost want to just get it over with. I feel my pulse in my throat as he tells the guy on the other end that he’ll see him soon. He’ll see who soon? No fuck! I bet this was some sort of deal.

I can’t imagine a scenario where this will end well for me, why on earth does he need me to go with him for any other reason than the one blinding me in my face?

His eyes then flicker to mine, lingering a moment too long for comfort before he speaks,” Can I trust you to be quiet?” He says with an unspoken warning.

My heart pounds faster at his question. I nod my willingness to behave as he’d asked, wringing my hands as they begin a cold sweat.

“Where’s your phone?” He questions, impatience in his tone.

I think back to my bedroom, to the text to the plug sinking into my foot, a wave of pain washes over me as I bring attention to the sensation, I’m Unable to stop myself from wincing as the adrenaline seems to wear away.

“My bedroom,” I answer, my voice coming out as a whine as the pain of my wound gets more intense the longer I stand on it.

I switch my weight to my other foot, his eyes draw to the action,” You’re injured.” He says, merely stating it as an observation.

He moves closer, and I instinctively step back, my better instincts recognising him as a predator immediately. If only my instincts had responded better the other night.

“Stay still.” He commands, his rough voice coating my skin with uneasiness. This close I could smell him, smell his cologne. It was rich and dark, matching him entirely. It felt too personal an aspect for someone capable of what I witnessed.

I couldn’t bear to look at his face, it made this all too real. The way they say that in dreams you can never truly see faces, his face in front of me proved the dreadful truth that this was not a dream. His eyes were locked onto mine, the inhumane shade of green cooling my skin, his sharp jaw could quite possibly cut me, he was haunting to observe, it was overwhelming.

He lowers to his knees, his tattoo-covered hands grabbing my ankle, his fingertips burning the skin of my leg. I want to rip my foot away from his grasp, needing his blood-stained hands off of me.

My breath catches in my throat when he reaches into his pocket. I exhale a sigh of relief when I see that it’s just a torch.

I wobble when he grabs my ankle the counter being too far in front and the fridge too far behind me,” Put your hand on my shoulder.” He instructs, the urge to grab a knife and sink it right into his skull crossed me this moment, but being already slow and quite badly injured I wouldn’t want to take my chances.

I hesitantly placed my sweaty palm on his left shoulder, feeling the muscles beneath the material of his hoodie flex beneath my palms. The reminder that he could snap me in half at any given moment washed over me in the form of a cold sweat. I can’t be stupid.

He glances toward me for a second, his face expressionless, and my stomach turns at the intensity of his stare. What were his motives? What could he possibly want with me other than torture? How could this be in my best interest?

Stop Ava. Just focus.

He angles my ankle to get a closer look at my wound, he shines the torch and his eyes narrow. He swiftly swipes a clean cloth from the counter, “deep breath.” He instructs.

I do so, before feeling the extent of my injury as he ties the cloth around my wound. “You’re lucky, any deeper and you would have punctured an artery.” He mutters, almost scolding. I nearly laugh, lucky?

He rises to his full height, the reminder shuddering that he was at least two heads taller than me. He pulls a set of cuffs from his pocket, and the gleaming silver warps slightly in my vision, god have I lost too much blood?

He fastens the cuffs to one of the draws of my marble counter, ”I don’t need to warn you of what will happen if you scream.” He says in a deathly quiet.

His light footsteps proceed past me down the hallway and up the stairs to my bedroom. It unnerves me that I can hardly hear him.

I whimper at the pain now searing down my leg, it might have stopped the blood but fuck did it stop the pain. I move my weight to my left leg.

The cuffs immobilise me, I can hardly move an inch. Wait. I have a hairpin. God this is a long shot but I have to try, after bending the black wire straight I get to work twisting it into the lock of the handcuffs. I can’t hear a thing upstairs which forces my heart to pump harder, I don’t need to imagine what he would do if he caught me.

After useless twisting my heart plummets to my throat and a click sounds throughout the space, I fucking did it. My palms began to get sweatier as I think of what to do, just fucking move Ava Jesus!

I nearly blew my other ankle out limping toward the front door, not caring for the noise of my locks as speed was my priority. My heart thunders in my ears, adrenaline being the only thing keeping me upright.

After successfully unlocking my two latches I scream at myself for not keeping my key nearby, where the fuck did I leave it?

“You’re smarter than you look.”

“Not smart enough.” I lean my forehead against my front door, my voice just shy of a sob

I turn toward him, expecting to at least find a scrap of expression sitting on his sculpted face, but once again nothing. At this point I want him to. To show some emotion, any emotion. It was beyond chilling. This is so obviously nothing to him.

“Where’s your pain relief?”

Huh?

“Cupboard above the hob.”

He saunters toward the kitchen, filling a glass with water. I stand motionless at my door.

He reads my baffled expression responding with, ”I don’t need you passing out, take three.” He shoves the pills and water into my hands. I obliged because, one—I desperately needed the pain to subside, and two—I did not want to refuse this man.

After a jut of his chin in recognition of my compliance, he retrieves the cuffs from his pocket,” Put your head down.” He demands.

No no no. It was happening. No, I can’t do this.

“Why?” My voice cracks with the pitch of my fear.

“I won’t ask you a second time. Do it Ava.”

I bow my head, preparing for the worst, probably a fucking bag. My hands shake against my sides, I clamp them into fists to give myself something to focus on.

My body freezes when I feel his fingertips on my scalp. Grazing the skin beneath my hair quickly, skillfully. Oh. For hair grips.

“Come on. You’ve wasted enough time.”

Ugh, I’ve missed writing so much! After what was practically a 20-week block, a ton of errors but I’m so happy I’ve written something beyond a draft.🤍

Action

Thriller

Accomplice

Lola

8 min read

Snow descends gently, each flake melting as it touches my flushed skin. My shoes squelch through the slush on my driveway. I'm about to twist my key in the lock when the clamorous screech of metal halts me. My skin prickles with goosebumps. What the hell was that? I take a look around the street. I’m unable to get a full glimpse, the only source of light being the sole street lamp. Not now. Not tonight.

Screech! The sound comes again, louder and harsher. My shallow breaths fog in the cold air. I veer around the corner hesitantly, my pulse** **quickening when I spot a hooded figure. The figure moves deliberately, like a predator. I move a few steps closer to gain a better view. As I peer at the figure I spot a face under their hood, male. Dressed head to toe in black.

Get inside Ava. Now.

The longer I look, the clearer the horrifying scene in front of me becomes. No, this cannot be happening. I catch sight of a person lying flat on the ground below the male dressed in black. Bile rises in my throat when I see his gagged mouth. He squirms underneath the assailant's foot, which is placed on his chest. His hands and feet are bound tight. The lack of light worsens my panic, drowning me in a sea of darkness.

Call the police Ava. Now. My hands move quicker than my mind, adrenaline acts for me. I snatch my phone to dial for the cops. My heart drops to my stomach when I’m met with the battery symbol. Really? Right now? Dread surges through me; I feel utterly alone. What am I supposed to do?

Without warning the metal once again screeches. I take a few steps and see the gleam of silver in the figure's hand—a wrench. He's going to use it on him. My pulse thrums against my ear in a chaotic rhythm.

Maybe If I scream, a neighbour will wake up in time? But I can’t risk him seeing me here, he could have a gun. I don’t like my chances there. I force my feet forward. There must be something I can do to distract him. I crouch behind a bush just metres away. I narrow my eyes to get a better glimpse. He can’t be. This can’t be happening. Blood spurts from the man’s mouth as he flails, begging for his life. The assailant is taking his teeth.

Cold sweat drenches my body as I tremble with panic My heart is in my throat. I need to do something. Anything. If my life didn’t depend on me not making noise, I would vomit on the tarmac floor beneath me. This is sick. Depraved.

“I’ll ask you again kade, the name.” The figure speaks, and god I wish he hadn’t.

The guy replies with gibberish, mumbling as he chokes on his blood. My gut twinges with guilt, that I’m simply standing here watching. But what would I do to help? I’m useless here.

I rummage through my pocket like a mad woman, grabbing my comb. Maybe I can set a car alarm off, he would be too distracted to ever notice me. Throwing the comb as far as I can, I make sure to stay well hidden. I can’t risk running away and leading him to my house. The figure's head spins toward the object as soon as it is mid-air, turning towards the direction it came from. Crap! I pray to a god I don't believe in that the dome of leaves hides my silhouette. I spot him walking towards the comb, he picks it up and inspects it with an unimpressed scowl.

I nestle deep into the nook of the bush. My neck then begins to itch. I feel something crawling on my skin. No not now! It crawls further and further along my back, and my body reacts before I can compose myself. I let out an audible grunt. His head snaps toward me. Please don't see me. I quiet my breath and keep my body still as best as I can manage. The crisp air is silent, I’d prefer screaming to silence. Silence is too unknown. Too unpredictable.

In an instant, he stands in front of me, my blood thumps harder when I see a pair of combat boots come into view. How did I not hear him coming? I force my head up, I’ll look guilty as sin if I can’t even look at him. I need to pretend I haven’t seen anything, my life quite literally depends on it.

The air is ripped from my lungs as soon as I cast my eyes on him. I can’t pinpoint what it is, but his face.. only intensifies my fear. The dim lighting of our surroundings casts a shadow across his face, his expression is unreadable. Everything about him has my instincts screaming for me to run.

“Why are you here?” He questions, his voice far more chilling up close.

I shift on my feet, itching to flee. “I live here,” I stammer.

“What did you see?” He questions, impatience in his tone.

“I heard metal and I thought someone was stealing a car. I didn’t see anything; I need to get back, my boyfriends expecting me.” I ramble, hoping my nerves aren’t obvious.

His eyes narrow in assessment, of course he doesn’t believe me. I don’t believe me.

“Fine. Run along then, can’t keep him waiting.” He says, his tone is taunting.

I sprint as soon as he says those words. I barge into my door, ramming the key in. My ribs ache as I take in deep breaths of oxygen, my body believing I am still in danger. I mean, aren’t I? He’s seen my face. And now he knows where I live.

I need to call the cops. I can’t just ignore what I witnessed, a man’s life was about to be stolen from him. I run to my bedroom, shoving the charger into my phone. After ten minutes of pressing the button like a maniac, it finally switches on. My fingers are rigid as I dial, I tell them everything I saw, the wrench, the teeth. The blood. They reassured me that dispatch was sending someone out and would be with me within five minutes.

I sit on the edge of my bed, ripping the skin off of my nail beds while I wait for the police to arrive.

A knock on my front door snaps me from my thoughts. My heart races, until I realise who it is. I curse as their light floods my bedroom. Could they not be discreet? The guy will easily put two and two together.

“Good evening ma’am. I’m Officer Bailey this is my colleague, Officer Harris. We understand you reported an incident that just occurred?” The blonde officer says. The concern etched onto her face eases my panic, she didn't take this lightly.

“Yes, that was me. Would you come in please, just with him being near.” I speak quickly, my voice hushed.

“Of course Ava, I understand.”

We move to my living area, Officer Harris then retrieves a notepad and pen. “We’re going to need a full statement from you, every detail you can remember from what you witnessed. Nothing is too small or insignificant.”

I recollect the events of tonight to the two officers. I panic a little at my stupidity to interact with the guy, why could I not just be selfish? This was not my place to intervene.

“That was incredibly helpful Ava, Thank you. You’ve been thorough. We’re going to conduct an official investigation and if we find anything of importance we’ll let you know straight away. Because the perpetrator spoke to you, and because he now probably knows your address, we will have a patrol officer sit outside your house. Primarily, for your safety. It’s just a precaution; in cases like these, the perpetrators often relocate. We will do everything we can.” She assures me. The certainty in her tone eases my panic slightly.

I lock the doors, going back every ten minutes to check I did so properly. I couldn't sleep if I wanted to, my body is brimming with panic and adrenaline. I thought a shower would stop the shaking. It didn’t. The figure's face haunts my mind, appearing every time I close my eyes, darkening it. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it. This feeling reminds me of **him. **The panic. Adrenaline. It made me crave calm. Three years ago I felt fear far worse than anything I felt tonight. In a way, it thickened my skin. I’m not thankful though, just logical. I’d still do anything to erase that time from my life. The calls, the texts. Showing up to my work. I’d been to therapy, groups, and meetings. Everything.
It never leaves. I’m in a constant state of feeling hunted.

I grab my bag at five on the dot and say goodbye to my colleagues. The air is icier tonight, the winter nights are dark now. The sun escapes before I can appreciate it. I hurriedly grab my keys from my bag and get into my car, not wanting to linger whilst I'm by myself. I thought it was best to continue with my daily life despite what happened yesterday. If I’m being honest I’ve been in some deep denial about what happened, I told no one at work. I didn’t want to speak it aloud. That makes it real. Delusion seems to be the solution.

I pull onto my driveway, shooting the officer sitting opposite a smile. His expression of focus comforts me.

After a scolding shower, and multiple glances behind the shower curtain, I head to bed. I take another peek at the patrol officer outside, needing the reminder that I have someone looking out for me. I get into bed, desperately needing the sleep that i lost last night. I decide against switching off the lamp. I can’t deal with complete darkness right now. A text alert dings through my room.

“You should have locked your back door, Ava.”

I shoot upright, my bed groaning as I reread the text. I rub my eyes repeatedly, wishing for this to be a stress-induced nightmare. It does nothing, the words still sit there. Taunting me. That has to be him. The police are the only people that know. Wait. I did lock the door, didn’t I?

A cold sweat forms on my forehead. My breaths puff out in increments. I whip the blanket off of myself, feeling suffocated by it. I just need to call the cops. Now. That’s all I can do. I can’t face this lunatic. As I bring the dial pad to my screen, my phone dings with a second message.

“Put the phone down Ava, or this ends tonight.”

My thoughts are muted by the drum of my heart. The fear is too much for my body to handle. Time seems to still, as I question if the words on my phone are there. A sour metallic taste floods my mouth. I pull my teeth from my lips, realizing I'm bleeding.

I snap myself back into reality, fight seeming to beat flight. I can’t shout for anyone, I’m at the back of the house. What the hell do I do? I consider hiding in the bathroom, but the lock is long overdue to be fixed. If he’s already inside my house he would only need a minute, the police would need at least five. He’ll kill me. Probably rip my teeth out before he delivers the final blow too. I have nowhere to hide. I’m trapped.

Part two coming!🤍

Thriller

Romance

A Midnight Masquerade~pt 3

Lola

8 min read

I haven’t moved. I’m frozen in his words, burnt by his presence. I haven’t moved from this spot for five minutes since he uttered those words. Those treacherous sinful words. Fuck send me to the depths, if it means I can give up and give in to him.

He shouldn’t be this way. He shouldn’t be able to crawl beneath my skin like this. I've always been level-headed in the most testing situations. This wasn’t new to me. People used charm and seduction frequently in my line of work. Seduction was a powerful tool. But my god. I’d never seen it be used so well.

My mind was fighting with itself. On the one hand, I have a task. Straying off course could fuck up this entire operation, potentially killing me and Aaron in the process. On the other hand, my body has never burned with lust for another human being so much in my entire life.

I stare at him now. Watching as his chest moves, rapidly. Desperately. He takes deep breaths of oxygen, stealing mine in the process.

“Fuck. Valentina. You can’t look at me like that. Those eyes. You’re a fucking temptress.” He takes his lower lip between his teeth. He had this power, this ability, to call to something deep and Dark within me. He had my core aching with need.

“You can’t say those things I can’t think straight, Aaron.”

“So stop thinking, let me clear your head.” He steps closer, too close. His scent is woody with hints of spice, making for an intoxicating concoction.

I've never known a man to be so giving. For them to find so much pleasure in mine. This revelation did nothing to ease my appetite for him. I found my body giving in before I could tell myself no.

“Okay,” I tell him. My eyes find his, his stare is so dark, so lustful. My stomach swirled in response. My cheeks burn with blush. “Just distract me, please.” I practically beg. I don’t know who I am at this minute. Who I’ve become. What I’m doing.

He sweeps his eyes across me, as though he’s trying to ensure I want this. Want him. He must find it in my expression because he nods.

“Let me make you feel good.” He says, his tone is gentle. The sun pouring into the room casts across his face. It entwines with his tanned skin, emphasising his razor-sharp jawline.

“Okay.” Is all I can manage, entranced by him.

“I’m a man of my word. Sit on the edge of the desk,” he commands. The rasp of his voice sends delicious sparks straight to my core.

I find myself obeying him, sitting on the edge of the desk behind me. This wasn’t like me, to follow commands. But something about submitting to this man heated my skin like nothing else

“How would you like me, Valentina? Should I be rough? Gentle?” he asks, his voice dripping with pure sex.

“Gentle,” I say without thinking.

He smiles in response, it's warm and genuine. “I’m going to kiss you now.” He states, closing the distance between us. He grabs my face with both hands, staring at each inch of my face as if memorising. Me or the moment, I’m not sure.

I find myself speechless, lost in him. He meets his lips to mine, with a pace that fogs my mind. He runs light hands through my hair. I return his kiss, clasping his lips, needing more of him. As he works the kiss deeper I taste him. Mint and whiskey. The combination is mind-numbing.

His movements are expert. He kisses me in a way that tells me he knows exactly what he is doing and he wants me to know just that. I ramp up the kiss, teasing his tongue with mine. The groan that comes from him, is a sound I will never forget. Without warning he pulls back. His hair is dishevelled. His lips are bruised with my lipstick, and fuck if that isn’t the hottest sight I’ve ever come across.

“I’m a starved man, I’m craving you, Valentina.” He rasps, his voice octaves deeper. The need in his tone heats my skin further.

Fuck. Where does he pull these lines from?

I lean back, pulling my hands from him to lean onto the desk. He looks edible. “Tell me what you want, Aaron,” I command, loving the fact that I have to look up to him and yet I hold every ounce of power.

Flames lick at the centre of his mismatched eyes.“You, I want to taste you. Devour you. I want you to understand the power you hold.”

“Oh, I understand,” I respond. Resting my heel above his waistline. He smirks at my response, groaning with pleasure as I dig the pointed end of my shoe into his chest. “On your knees then,” I demand, to which he wastes no time in doing so. His looking at me from above was beyond attractive, but below? To bring such a powerful man to his knees, with nothing but heat in his eyes as he kneels before you. Jesus Christ. I will think about this moment forever, probably with my hand between my thighs.

He never takes his eyes off of mine, increasing the intensity of his every movement. He parts my legs leisurely. Dragging his fingertips across my legs and upwards until he reaches my thighs. He pauses on my knife holster. His eyes hone in on the blade, enjoying the sight of it against my body, "You’re keeping this on,” he instructs. He continues his exploration, squeezing my legs, “fuck could you get any sexier, these thick fucking thighs.” He appears entranced by them, proceeding to attach his mouth to them. He sucks and laps ferociously at my inner thighs.

The sensation of his tongue against my skin has me feverish. He continues the action until he becomes dangerously close to my heat. He shocks me when he stops abruptly, pulling his head from underneath my dress. “I know you’re fucking soaking, Valentina, I want to hear you. Don’t make me ask again.” I whine in response, uncaring of anything coherent with the things he was making me feel.

His mouth latches onto my skin, pulling my dress further and further up until my behind is entirely exposed. He takes a long moment to stare at my underwear, fascinated. As though he was a teenage boy losing his virginity. I relished the fact that I had brought him to that state of transfixion. “If you don't come, I want you to slash me with this knife, okay?” he says, entirely serious.

“Aaron, what the f-.”

He cuts me off immediately, “No discussion, let a man eat.”

I moan at his response, unashamed of my attraction to him and his quick words. With no hesitation, he draws back to his previous position. His tongue laps at the flesh of my thighs, relentless in his actions. He continues the movements with his mouth. Drawing close to my underwear, he kisses and sucks the skin beside it. His touch is too near and too far from the spot I most wanted it. “Aaron,” I moan, pleading for him to kiss me where I need to be kissed.

His eyes lock with mine, as he sucks at my flesh. “That.” Kiss. “Fucking.” Kiss. “Voice.”

His fingers graze the waistband of my underwear. He glides his fingertips to the middle of me, stopping exactly where he knows he needs to fucking carry on. My head falls as I begin to ache with need. “Please,” I beg, my voice verging on a mewl.

In an instant he answers my plea, placing his mouth directly on my heat. He laps at the material of my underwear with his tongue. “You’re fucking soaked, I knew I got you hot. What was it that tipped you over the edge hm? What was it that I said that got this perfect pussy drenched?” He taunted, continuing to lick my centre above the fabric. My head spun from the sensation.

“You and and that fucking ego.” I moan, my words contradicting the sounds he was pulling from me.

He rips my underwear clean off, causing a satisfying whip sound. He then does the unthinkable, he bites my clit. “Take that as a warning, tell me.” He demands, his expression forcing me into submission.

“It was your sheer confidence at first. Then it was the way you can submit to me. That’s what got me hot for you.” I confess, breathing harder as he continues to bite my clit. He detaches himself as soon as I utter the words. My response pleases him, a slow sultry smile forms across his face. “This is what you like? Me on my knees for you? My filthy words? I knew from the minute I saw you, that you were a siren, calling to me with that pretty fucking face, and this,” he makes a show of taking in my body, appreciating my every curve. “Unreal body of yours, it’s fucking sinful.”

Before I can speak he places his mouth on my core, licking and sucking at my clit. Not giving me a moment to breathe. Fuck he is talented. His tongue moves in precise movements, bringing me closer to my release. I gasp as his rhythm increases. I look down to find his eyes on my face, entranced by me. “I’m gonna come if you keep looking at me like that,” I pant. Perspiration begins to form on my skin.

His eyes grow darker. He brings his fingers to my mouth, ”open,” he instructs. I welcome them, sucking and licking, swirling my tongue around the two of them. “Such a good girl, taking me like that.” I push my mouth deeper onto his fingers. His lips part as he watches me. “I swear I could come from the mere sight of you. You are breathtaking.” He groans, withdrawing his fingers from my mouth, now soaked with my saliva. He lines his fingers up to my entrance, watching my reaction as he does so. My face contorts in pleasure, as he sinks his fingers into me. He curls his fingers into me as he massages the most pleasurable areas of my body. He swirls my clit with his thumb, making for an eye-rolling combination. He works my body until I’m whining, rolling my hips against his hand.

“That’s it, fucking using me, use me for your pleasure.” His brows pull taut as he watches his hand move within me, switching his gaze from his hand to my face. I moan at his salacious words, whining with need as my muscles tighten in my belly. He works his hand deeper, using his other to apply pressure to my stomach, intensifying the feeling. He works my body until I’m screaming, soaking his hand with my release. My legs shake as he draws my orgasm from me. Fuck. I’ve never come that hard in my life.

He laps up every drop of my release, not wasting an ounce. “You taste incredible.” He moans unashamedly, as his mouth latches to my heat, licking me ravenously. My legs jerk as he makes contact with my oversensitive clit.

I stare at him in awe, his head resting on my thighs as he watches me.

“So, did I successfully distract you?”

Romance

Drama

Closure

Lola

1 min read

“You have stolen from me. You have deprived me of a happy existence. Do you understand what that felt like? To have your vulnerability ripped from you, your innocence stolen. What was it that went through your mind? Was it that, ‘She’s young, naive, defenceless?’ I bet that’s what you thought.

“‘Pray for me to sink my teeth into’. What did I do wrong? Were my shorts too short? Were my pigtails too high, my smile too inviting? I’m sorry if I mislead you. Gave you the wrong impression. My bad.

“I wonder when it was decided, that you would cross the point of no return. I wonder how you could enjoy another’s suffering like that. How you could act in such a senseless and depraved way? But I guess that’s just you, In a nutshell.

“Oh but don’t worry, I won’t cry. I Won’t sob or cower in fear the same thing will happen again. You will no longer haunt my dreams. No, I’ll rest easily in my bed. See for a long time I was furious, I dreamt of the ways I would butcher you. Laughing as you screamed in utter agony, as you did to me. I dreamt of the depravity I would treat you with as you did me. But that would require touching you. I’m sure you can understand my aversion to that.

“So rest easy tonight. You will meet your fate. I won’t have to wonder what went through your mind, wonder why or how. I’ll be content.

“Because in here, they don’t like your kind so much unc. Someone might have let slip your, hobbies, shall we say. You might find a likeness of yourself in them. They take as they please, oh, one more thing. They love it the more you scream.”

Drama

Verve

Lola

7 min read

My body knows no bounds, no limits. I no longer feel exhaustion or fatigue; I sprint relentlessly through the tresses of trees. Each crunch of my steps is now a drum in my ears.

I twist and turn as my legs carry me rapidly throughout the forest. They must know where I am. They are everywhere. Watching. Waiting.

I haven't just crossed a line tonight. I have devoured it. That poor girl. How could I take an innocent life? My greed has consumed me.

I never thought I could want something so carnally, for my veins to throb for it. I tried to stay home, I truly did.

When I reach my door I quickly slam it behind me, causing it to groan under the force of my hand. I fall against it, as guilt circulates me. My memories were so vivid now, each event playing like a motion picture in my mind. However much I tried to erase them from my head, they persisted.

I was always quite a sheltered person. On no particular Friday night, I decided to change that and accept my best friend’s invitation to a party. Jazz. She was everything to me, especially after my parents passed. I left that night tipsy, assuring Jazz I was fine to walk home as it was only ten minutes.

Elmsreach village was a quaint place, crime was second to none. And so when I stumbled home that night, I’d never anticipated what would happen next.

It was the pain I felt first, the searing sharpness of teeth in my neck. And then followed, what I now know to be venom. It was an unforgettable sensation. One I don’t ever wish to feel again.

My attacker drained me of my life source, and my body swiftly met the cold damp leaves of the woods.

At first, I felt nothing but confusion and fear for what had happened. That was until I attempted to open my blinds. It was not long after that he arrived, Roman Vantouri, how he found me I can’t be sure. He told me there were few of us, and told me he would guide me through the process. Help me hunt. Of course, I laughed in his face, furious he had barged into my house.

He then proceeded to show me his true face, and his abilities. It was then that I realised the severity of my situation. Today was my seventh day, with the ‘dark gift’. I still wake up each day, forgetting I don’t need oxygen anymore.

I pick myself up from my hardwood floors and light a few dozen candles. I love the warm glow as opposed to the clinical white light of a bulb. I inherited this place two years ago when my parents passed.

Twenty didn’t feel old enough to have my own place, despite what I was told. My uncle still checks in, thankfully infrequently.

My hands still shake as I begin to process what I’ve done. My blood warms with hers, I didn’t want my first kill to be a woman, but she smelt so good. Molten honey and fudge. I didn't leave a drop.

Roman warned me this would happen if I didn’t hunt frequently, that the hunger would become unbearable. You should always leave them warm, he told me. Bite and erase. But the hunger surpassed the guilt tonight. The cravings are becoming too strong. Deer can only satiate you for so long.

I decide I need a distraction from my unrelenting mind. I stumble to the kitchen browsing my mother's wine rack. She had the house passed down from her mother, as far I knew it went back about six generations, I adored the place. Victorian gothic is how I would describe it, though as a girl I hated the place.

They say when you’re young you’re more susceptible to spirits. I wasn’t the exception, headless apirations would stand at the end of my bed, or peek behind my shower curtain. As I got older I came to like them, they seemed to respect you if you didn’t fear them, and some even spoke to me.

I knock back my second glass, allowing the smooth liquid to coat my tongue. I almost choke when the staircase thuds. I had a feeling this wasn’t my transparent companions. Is it them? Will I meet my end tonight?

The absence of noise worsens my panic, my breathing turns shallow. I force my feet forward, one foot in front of the other. My steps are light as I inch toward my front door. I survey the area. Nothing. No fallen candle. No pitchforks ablaze.

I wait a few moments longer before deciding to retire to my bedroom, sick of the constant state of terror. When I turn toward my bedroom, a knock sounds throughout the house. The sound settles uncomfortably on my chest, rendering me frozen. I would be a fool to answer. Every cell in my body commands me not to.

The knock repeats itself, more insistent this time, angrier. I can’t sleep like this. I need to just face it. With hesitant steps, I walk toward my front door. It’s then when I reach my door that I realise who my caller is. The steady thrum of his breathing greets me. Calm and assured. My blood vibrates to be within his presence.

I eventually slide my deadbolt across, meeting a sight that chills me. It takes effort to steady my breathing. His appearance was nothing to be taken lightly.

He couldn’t be described as handsome. The word wouldn’t serve up to him. He was deadly, chilling. Both of our encounters were brief. Both times he had shown up, unannounced, appearing in my hallway.

For him to knock somehow seemed far stranger to me. He never spoke much, which made his already domineering presence, far more intense.

“You ran rather fast.” He stated, not moving from his spot on my porch. I leaned onto my door frame with every pound I weighed. His gaze burned me.

“I panicked,” I responded. I struggled to find words in his presence. He radiated authority.

“That seems to be habitual for you, Selene.” He commented, taking a step toward me. God no. He’ll surely smell her on me. I don’t voice my reluctance and allow him to walk into my house.

His fawn eyes were menacing under the dim lighting of my hallway. Unforgiving.

“Will they come for me?” I ask, unable to hide the quiver the sheer mention of them causes. ‘They’, were the hunters, they knew of our existence and would stop at nothing to put an end to us.

He studies my house, taking in every patterned swirl that sits on my walls. His penetrating gaze returns to me. ”Does that scare you?” He turns to me, taking a step closer. The sound of his polished shoes is the only evidence that he moved.

I don’t understand him. Is he mocking me? Testing me? “No, I’d just like to know, a heads up would be nice,” I say, my shallow breathing betraying me.

His gaze intensifies. I wish I could hear his thoughts, and understand his motivations. That gift came with seniority.

He responds after a few moments pass, forcing me to sit in the uncomfortable energy of his presence. “They are searching for you. They know another human has been turned by the increase in animal deaths. If they find you, you act accordingly.”

I am a fledging, how can he expect me to simply, ’act accordingly’ It’s been a week. I can hardly fight a rabbit off.

Let alone grown men, with weapons. “How? I can’t fight. I can’t defend myself. I can hardly walk into church without wanting to sink my teeth into the priest. This is not good for me. I do not do well with stress. You promised you would help me.” I say, my voice croaking, trembling with a mix of frustration and anxiety.

His lips twitch, out of anger or amusement, I couldn’t be certain. ”Patience. And I keep my promises, Selene. I intend to see it through. How did you manage stress when you were human?” He inquires, his words confuse me.

Out of our two interactions he never once took an interest in me, his questions were always distanced and generalised.

“I didn’t, I was a very anxious person. So this heightened emotions thing, really isn’t working for me,” I cross my arms, my muscles tighten.

His withdraws his lips, his fangs biting at them, ”How you didn’t die earlier I don’t know. I need you to do as I say, Selene, that’s all I ask.” He says, his voice taking on a more severe tone.

I contemplate his words. I don’t have a choice but to trust him. I had no one else to turn to, not a single other soul knew me, truly. How incredibly lonely.

“Have you been drinking?” He asks, his tone unaccusing, but unimpressed.

I roll my lips, contemplating whether to tell him or not. Oh. Of course. He can smell it.

“Yes,” I reply, feeling slightly like a scolded child.

“Wine?” he asks, his gaze drawing to my lips.

“Yes.” where is he going with this?

He moves a step closer to my position against the door, his arms hanging loosely. His shirt, constricts him, curving to the muscles of his arms and abdomen. I swallow. I’d never seen his jacket unbuttoned until tonight.

“One will help with the stress, any more will have the opposite effect.” He says.

“I think I can handle myself, thanks,” I respond, uncomfortable with his closeness. Why does he smell like that? The scent is woody, heady. Him. And with the way his eyes darkened, had me questioning whether maybe I did need oxygen.

He continues to stare, unashamed as he does so. “you’re aware I can hear your thoughts, aren’t you?”

I’m once again reminded he can do such and internally kick myself for every single thought I’ve had of him since he knocked on my door.

“Yes,” my voice is breathy. My nerves ramp up when he doesn't respond, paired with the nearness of his face to mine.

He doesn’t address my confession, instead, he responds with, “1952, Merlot”

My mouth parts in surprise at his accuracy. “You guessed that from simply smelling it?” I ask.

His eyes darken, and for the first time, he appears amused. “That, and the fact it has stained your lips, only Merlot settles like that. I’m surprised, I thought you’d go for something sweeter.” He muses to himself.

What does he mean by that?

“Oh? Is it there still?” I lick my lips thoroughly, biting and sucking until the wine is gone.

His eyes lock onto the movement, he becomes incredibly still. “Don’t remove it, leave it like that.” His tone is rough and severe.

Oh.

Romance

Thriller

A Midnight Masquerade~Pt 2

Lola

8 min read

The sound of ticking forces me to pause. “What the fuck is that?” I whisper shout to the man beside me, whipping my head to every corner of Rossis’ office. I’m usually calm in the worst of situations but nothing about that noise paired with the rossis’s reputation calms me.

“I thought my presence was useless?” He smirks, watching me dart around the room to locate the source of the noise, overturning papers and boxes.

“Fuck you’re irritating,” I scowl at him as he stands still with his arms folded, simply watching me instead of helping.

I scurry to every inch of the room trying to find the cause of the ticking noise. I still when the noise abruptly stops.

“Well that can’t be good,” he comments, with raised brows in mock fear. Loving my panic far too much.

We stand there together in silence, waiting. Panic arises in me when the sound begins again, only this time it is quicker, harsher.

“Aaron, come on. At least fucking help me search,” I shout, furious with his incompetence.

His eyes widen fractionally, his expression sobering, “say that again,” he demands.

I huff a dry humourless laugh, perplexed at his meaning. ”What? your name? You freak, Aaron seriously I don’t have time for this, neither do you. We don’t know what that noise means.” I plead, my voice uneven. I hate not knowing, I always need constant control. Of everything.

“I think I just came. Fuck. That voice.” He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, groaning. This man is certified insane, how is he taking more of an interest in my voice than a possible fucking bomb?

I blink at him, shortly distracted from my panic. I didn’t expect him to be so, vocal, about his feelings.

“I’ll say it again If you help me locate that noise,” I offer, desperate. I know, but Come on, I could get blown up here.

He sharpens immediately, Surprising me with his subservience. He looks thoroughly through just about every nook and cranny, searching in spots I hadn’t. If he wasn’t so irritating I’d be impressed.

“And this,” He holds out a short black circular device, with a red blinking dot placed dead centre of it. “Is why you need me.” His smug expression sits neatly on his sculpted face. “We dismantled these in the first year of training, it’s just a standard sensor device. It will only alert its owner after thirty seconds, so we’re good,” he breezes out, apparently passionate about the subject. The thought that he was possibly a tech geek, an amusing one. “Mm, you’ve proved yourself useful I suppose. Nice work. Why are you on this one, this mission? Please, just be honest.” I can’t trust him immediately, I can’t be foolish, like that.

He appears amused with my question. “I’m here solely to ensure the mission goes well, ask your chief. I don’t want credit. I also don’t play dirty. Well, between working hours.” A smirk tugs on his lips.

His words sting a little, did chief think I wasn’t able to complete this independently? I mean I know I took a long break but fuck. This was a kick in the tits. I come out on top every time in training. I worked damn hard to get to where I am today. Which part of that says incapable?

“Wow. Well for the record, I’m good at my fucking job, okay? God, how dare he have me babysat. I don’t need you overseeing me. You’re here because my chief is a fucking moron.” I spit, indirectly to Aaron.

“I’ve seen your rankings, Valentina. You’re skilled, it’s merely a precaution. These people.”He closes his eyes momentarily, inhaling deeply. Why would this affect him? He doesn’t know what went down, does he? “Well, you already know. It would be foolish to send anyone in alone, especially in this fucking den of vipers.” He looks sombre, I have an urge to ask how much he knows.

“I guess there’s no point getting hung up on it, I’m here to do a job, and that’s all. You, you do whatever you want.” I huff.

“You naughty girl, we might have ten minutes,” he winks, to which I can’t help but laugh at his ridiculousness.

No. Fuck. He is not likeable.

“Nah you’re definitely a five-minute man.” I snort

“Mm I like a challenge, my face is very comfortable,” he replies, smooth as anything.

My head spins a little with these quick responses of his. I’m not equipped for such a smart mouth, well smart in the sense he was quick. This imbecile displays very little emotional intelligence. His brain resides south, above the knee, below the belt. I just need to block him out. I can do that, right?

“I don’t even have a response,” I shake my head in disbelief at his sharp comebacks.

His eyes flicker with satisfaction, to have me speechless is quite a feat to be fair. I won’t give in to him though.

“Just behave, alright? Say whatever but don’t distract me.” I order him, a little more flustered than I thought.

“I’m distracting you?” He asks, stepping a foot closer.

His scent invades my lungs, there’s a manliness to it. It’s rough and heady. I take a step back, hating the way my blood heats at something so simple. Fuck have some restraint, Valentina. I don’t understand what’s wrong with me. Was it the lack of social interaction from these last few months of isolation? Im not usually affected this easily.

I take a breath, before speaking. “Yes, by being a sleazy dick, now if you don’t mind I have work to do,” I say, hard and blunt.

He watches me, making a show of it. He’s trying to work me out. Being flustered isn’t in my nature, so why on earth is this stranger making me believe it is?

“It’s funny, I was told you were an excellent liar. I’m disappointed. What is it they say in body language class? Dilated pupils? Apples of the cheeks become rosy. Slight sheen on the forehead.” He closes the space between us, suffocating me with that treacherous scent, fuck you hormones. His eyes flicker to my chest. ”Increased pulse. That’s some deep breathing you’re doing there Valentina,” he states, his voice rough. His tone accusing. I consider his words, why am I breathing so heavily? And I’m hot, mid July hot. God this is not good. Pull yourself together Val. You’re better than this. I’m not giving in. I will not have a man ruin my mission. “Okay, you’ve officially lost your mind. You know nothing, just stop talking.” I urge, verbally putting my foot down.

He gives a knowing smile, allowing me to have the final word, but really, he had it.

“So what’s the plan, baby?” he asks, his voice now gentle, a vast difference from thirty seconds ago.

God, he makes this difficult.

“Well, I’ve done the hard part. I thought it would be much harder to get up here. I’d assume there would be guards outside the door not just a lock.” I mutter, now slightly worried that I didn’t considered that before. Am I really that rusty?

“Oh yeah, there were. They got taken care of,” he states offering nothing else.

“Fuck why did I not think of this before,” I say, more to myself.

Shock floods me when a calloused hand strokes my jaw, ”Valentina look at me.” He instructs, his tone serious, something in it calls to me to listen. ”I saw what you did to Mr Morgenstern, Clifton, in the hallway. You didn’t hesitate to put him down. You’re a fucking badass, you shouldn’t doubt yourself it’s pointless. Some things are out of our control. Had you seen the guards I took out, I’m certain you would’ve handled it swiftly and efficiently. This isn’t pity, it’s recognition. You’ve seen horrific things, you wouldn’t be blamed if you retired, but you understand how much those girls need to be avenged. You’re fucking incredible, don’t you dare forget it.” His eyes hold such an intensity, that it becomes difficult to hold his gaze. My jaw burns in the absence of his hand.

He read my personal file. The intimacy of that knowledge makes his physical presence all the more intense. What the fuck do I even say to that? Thankyou? Except, that doesn’t feel enough.

“Oh, I didn’t know you knew about what happened. You’re right yeah, that’s why I'm doing this. For them. I’m not good at emotional shit, okay? But thank you, Aaron.” I nod, appreciative of his words.

He steps back, as though he shocked himself with his sudden outburst of praise. “You’re welcome. Now, let’s hear about that plan,” he says, a little cold for my liking. But I can’t begin to focus on pathetic things like that. I have a mission, that is my only priority.

“I’ve researched this place thoroughly, the stupid prick thinks he’s so smart. I’ve memorised the blueprint, to put it simply he’s built passages inside his walls. It’ll be a little intricate getting through each wall but I’m confident I have sufficient time to do it, so, you coming?” I ask, amped and ready to swap these fucking codes and leave this version of hell.

I turn to move but stop in my tracks when he gives me a look that knocks the breath from my body.

“You’re so fucking admirable Valentina, do you know that? You don’t even need me, anyone. You're capable and beyond skilled. You’ve got my blood hot. If not today, or tomorrow or the next day. I will wait. I want nothing more than to have my head between your thighs. I don’t want anything, I don’t care about me. I just want to give you everything, all of it. That smart fucking mouth, the way you took Clifton down. I’ve never wanted to have my arm broken more in my life,” he breathes heavily, his chest rises and falls so quickly I worry he might have a stroke. His gaze is heavy, consumed with lust. The greenish-blue tint swallowed up by his enlarged pupils. The sight stirs my stomach.

I match his breathing, his desperation for me. This is past an act now. He doesn’t need to put this on, he shouldn’t be saying this. But fuck do I want him to carry on. This is so wrong, I shouldn’t feel aroused on a job. Where is my self-restraint?

“Aaron, stop talking. I can’t-“

“Can’t what, can’t do this? Like I said, I’ll wait. But fuck if you said yes right now I wouldn’t hesitate to shove you on that desk, and devour you right this minute. I’ve done my research you know. These walls.” He begins to walk toward me, not stopping until my back reaches the desk he just spoke of. “They’re soundproof,” he states. I put my hand on his chest, unsure of whether I was pushing him away or simply needing to touch him. “Aaron.” I breathe, not knowing what else to say. I know right from wrong. I swear I do. But his presence currently had me questioning whether that was true. How could a person's words affect another, so much? He hasn’t touched me and my skin is on fire. “Valentina,” he responds, also unable to find words for the electricity sitting between us.

Romance