Bait

by Jade West

Maybe denim guy will be the one to chase me. Maybe he’ll be my monster.

I don’t want to feel the tingle between my legs as I think of denim guy’s dirty hands on me. I don’t want to clench my thighs under the table as I think about his filthy cock inside me.

Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win. Stephen King

There’s something about pounding the hillside with misty breath and my pulse in my ears that lends the illusion I’m getting somewhere. Sometimes I feel that if I could just run fast enough I’d outrun all my mistakes.

Her wildness as she fought me. The darkness in her eyes. The way she loved me.

It’s not enough. My fingernails pinch my thighs under my scratchy skirt. I’m itchy, like a flurry of tiny beetles are scurrying across my skin. Under my skin.

Raven hair obscures most of the girl’s features. She’s staring at the camera with one beautiful wide eye, her high cheekbone stark against the shadows, her expression so… lost.

don’t know what it is that feels so familiar about this one random woman’s picture. She looks little like Mariana. Mariana was tanned and strong-featured, with dirty eyes and a dirty laugh to match. The woman in the picture reminds me of a black swan, elegant and etheric. Deep. I can’t stop staring at her.

I’m seeking my monster in the darkness. I’ll run but you’ll run faster. We’ll play cat and mouse until you catch me. I won’t know you, and I’ll pretend I don’t want to. You’ll pretend you don’t care. I’ll tell you I don’t want it. You’ll tell me you’ll take it anyway, and then you will. And it’ll be rough. One wild night where anything goes, and then we’ll never see each other again.

The girl is skirting disaster. My black swan has no idea how close she is to danger. A little bird flapping on the ground as the predators circle.

My breath mists up the glass as I tug down the zip on my jeans. My fist curls around meat and metal, the barbells on my dick shooting sparks straight to my balls. Another of Mariana’s legacies.

My hand tightens around my cock. The piercings ripple under my skin. I grip so hard it hurts, just like Abigail will. Scared pussy always hurts so fucking bad. Scared pussy always fights. And scared pussy always tastes the best.

I’ll make her come regardless, even if she doesn’t think she can. Even if her pussy cries in protest. Even if she hates how dirty it makes her feel. I’ll make her feel so fucking dirty. One night.

Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live. Norman Cousins

Six bars along the length of me. A thick curve of steel spearing the head. It always hurt her. Sometimes it drew blood. Sometimes it even hurt me too.

This girl, Abigail – bait – is edging me towards insanity. Or salvation. Reawakening a beast I thought died along with the woman I couldn’t save.

Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant. Robert Louis Stevenson

I never expected to race home for midnight with a heart full of excitement for a faceless man at the end of an internet connection. But I do.

The return makes one love the farewell. Alfred de Musset

Just me and him – the monster and his steel-sculpted dick and his promise to fuck me up bad. I might be walking into the biggest mistake of my life, but I’ll be doing it with a smile on my crazy face.

Her terror captivates me. My black swan is beautifully petrified.

My black swan is supposed to be fighting to get away, not lying sated underneath me with her cheek on the tarmac as I pull my barbells free one by one.

Abigail Rachel Summers is everything I need, all at once. And absolutely nothing I should ever do again.

Insanity is knowing that what you’re doing is completely idiotic, but still, somehow, you just can’t stop it. Elizabeth Wurtzel

His strength pushes that dildo in deep in one short burst. My ass sucks that monster in like a donkey punch. “Ow, fuck,” I grunt, but he keeps on going. “Fuck…” “Take it.” “Make me,” I say, even though my heart is in my throat. And he does. He does make me take it.

She sighs. “He doesn’t need to be. He’s all darkness and brawn and pure, hot man flesh.”

“He’s definitely all of those things, yeah,” I agree. And secrets, and pain, and kisses that taste like thunder.

“Great job!” I call. “Well done, Cam. You got him.” And he forgets himself. I guess in that one happy moment he forgets it all. He points at the turtle’s big green flippers and looks me right in the face, and then he speaks. Two simple words that change my whole fucking world. “He’s fast.”

“I’m the one who killed Mariana, Leo. It was me.”

Black as the devil, hot as hell, pure as an angel, sweet as love. Charles Maurice de Talleyrand