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She didn’t know much about him, only that he had killed himself, leaving the cottage and the little land to her mother.
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He smelled of dangerous adventures and coming home, of heartache and nostalgia.
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“How am I looking at you?” She tilted her head curiously. His eyes seared her. “Like you’re inviting me to play.”
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“Steer clear of me, little crow,” he muttered, his eyes piercing, flaying her open. “You might be a luring siren but I’m no ordinary sailor. I’m a mad pirate and I’m trying to resist your call. If I land on your shores, I will plunder and take away everything worth having. Be very careful giving me those eyes.”
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Character death can be the most powerful weapon in a writer’s arsenal, but it’s one that needs to be used extremely carefully.
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She needed to go to her place, the quiet place where it was only her and no one else to interrupt.
Biiiiiitch!!!! You’re going outside… in the middle of the night… to a graveyard.. scratch that to an abandoned graveyard.. in the middle of the fucking woods…. This some WPS BRUH!!
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“If this is madness,” he told her, echoing her words against her lips, “I’ve already descended too far.”
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“I’m going to fuck you so raw you’ll never get me out. This time is mine. This pussy is mine.”
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“Shh.” She heard him whispering into her neck, his nose nuzzling her,
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There was something about that moment, that place, that hit her like déjà vu. Standing in the middle of the garden like that, Corvina could almost believe she had been there before, could almost believe she was in another time long past, with the same castle walls looming ahead, absorbing secrets never to tell with each tick of the clock.
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God, he could sound like a dick sometimes, and it still turned her on.
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“I know you get shy, little crow. But I have fucked you and will fuck you in ways you might find disconcerting and erotic.” He pinched her nipple, rolling it between his fingers. “Your body is mine to play with. Tell me.”
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