Then, Earth Swallowed Ocean

by Shiloh Sloane

He hates her now, as much as he adores her. But he could listen to her speak forever. He will, when he finds her. For all the moments they spend together where she manages language. And when he finds her, there will be very few of those for a very long time.

“When I fuck you,” Ridge tells her in a low voice. “I feel your heart beat with mine. Before I met you, I could sense you. I could feel you.”

“You are mine,” he growls, stroking himself over the denim. “Aren’t you?” “Yes,” Sadie whispers. He groans. “Fucking right. If you risk what’s mine, I will punish you.” “I can’t go back.” “Then I’m going to hunt you down,” Ridge growls. He’s seething. “And I’m never going to let you out of my sight again, do you understand? I’m going to kill anyone who gets in my way. You’re mine. You’re staying mine.”

“Do you know just what I’ll do to you when I catch you? Just how I’ll devour your sweet flesh again…” “Ridge,” she breathes. He feels the sound trickle down his spine. It awakens him. He drips with anticipation and smooths it over himself. “Say that again,” he growls. “Ridge,” she moans. “Need you so fucking bad, Sadie,” he groans. “Can still feel you on my cock. Your sweet virgin blood.”

“Hike up your skirt to your waist,” he commands. “So when you bare yourself, I can imagine your pretty little cunt under your hand. Your swollen fucking jewel…” “Someone might see me.” “Who are you more afraid of?” Silence. He smiles. No other objections to their game. “If anyone watches you, I’ll kill them first. Do it. Fuck your hand like it’s mine.”

“You belong to me, Sadie,” he tells her, stroking himself faster. “All of you. Fate gave you to me.” “I’m yours, Ridge,” she whimpers. “When I find you,” he growls. “You can’t,” she breathes. Her voice hitches. “When I do,” he says. “I’m going to cripple you.”

“I’m going to tie you to a bed,” he says. “Make the ropes tight enough to cut into your wrists and ankles.” She gasps. Such a sweet fucking sound. “Take bites from you,” he pants. “Spit your own blood into your mouth. Make you hold it as I fuck your throat until it spills down your neck.”

“There is nothing,” he growls. “That could get through me to you. Nothing. Do you doubt that, Sadie?”

For a long time, he’s savored the way sadness flavors a woman’s breath but now he thinks he’d pull the stars from the sky if it meant she never sounded like that again.

“I’ve played nice with you. If you think even your Devil can cut through me, I’ll show you how wrong you are. Because he could open the earth underneath our feet and I would fuck you in our fall. I would devour him and free every damned soul just to see you in the sun again.”

“Then hide well,” he growls. “Because when I find you, you’ll have no other god but me.”

Lucifer probably took notes from the Germans.

Despite fleeing, she knows she belongs in his arms with her blood in his mouth and her breath on his skin.

When he sees her, he’ll make her speak into his ear so he can feel her breath along with the sound of her voice. Then he’ll squeeze her throat until her pulse becomes a hammer underneath his long fingers and he will nick her skin right under her jaw. Drink the fervor of his desire for her.

They do not know how powerful he is when she’s at stake. He will be a god for her. He will be nuclear.

Hunger echoes like an endless howl through his bones. Rings in his eardrums. It’s not something that anyone else can satisfy because it’s not in his stomach. It’s in his fucking soul.

He will kill all who hunt her. He will kee...

The fawn in the grass and the wolf who guards her, linked forever with scent and spit and blood and cum.

Those golden fucking thighs of hers have been on his mind. Never found a pillow quite so soft. He’d like to sleep with his head perched between her splayed legs, her juices baptizing his crown. Waking intermittently to lick and nip at her folds until she drenches his chin. What a way to live, what a way to die…

Sex with anyone but Sadie is a waste of sweat and seed.

Judging by the scent even at this distance, Sadie’s room is number two. The second one from the left, he imagines they’ll get noise complaints when he takes her. He has no intention of ceasing fucking her for at least two days. Should have brought smelling salts in the event that they pass out again. He’s going to break her like a wild mare. Bruise and bite her skin until she fears him more than her Devil.

He’s starved. Wants to taste his fawn’s blood on his tongue. Drink from her. Devour her. Fuck her while she’s bound to the bed beyond that blue door, come inside her so hard he puts a child there and keeps her as her sweet curves transform for him. Yes.

She’s not here and that matters but it doesn’t stop his drive to consume. He grabs a dress from the bed and buries his face in it, groaning. He’s an animal now. No thoughts but the drive to devour. He crawls onto the bed, tasting her sweat with his hands. Buries his face in her pillow. He’d like to roll in her scent. He’s not even a wolf anymore, but a dog. Smoothing his hands over every single remnant of her. Her clothes. Her toothbrush in the bathroom. He nearly gnaws on her hairbrush. Runs his hand over the damp bathtub and drinks the water he collects.

He thinks the only thing that may quell his anger for the church and his lust for Sadie is fucking her on some altar in the man’s spilt blood. Maybe she’ll see it as a sacrifice to her god. A worthy trade.

There are three urges stronger than anything he’s ever felt. The first is to sink his teeth into her neck and rut into her in this diner, drinking her blood while he fucks her and not giving a damn what anyone sees. The second is to kiss her, to press his lips to the corner of hers that bears a cinnamon constellation. The third is to fall to his knees in front of her and bury his face between her legs.

Her. Fucking. Voice. He’s hardly aware of his own body right now, so deep is he in the fantasy of bending her over the table and taking her hard, aggressive, until she bleeds again. Clawing his fingers into her back. Breaking her sweet skin. He wants to fuck her so deep he can feel her marrow seep onto his cock as her bones break around him.

He wonders if he can have her sit on his lap so he can sheath his cock inside her while they speak. She tastes so fucking good. He knows how incredible she feels.

“Are you alright?” the reverend asks. “She’s possessed,” Ridge remarks, gravel in his voice. His fingers pick up speed. Sadie leans forward on the table, clasping her hands in front of her mouth. He feels a tremor ride through her, feels more wetness leak from her entrance. She’s such a good girl, taking pleasure still and silent like this. Even though her legs are shaking.

The need for him is constant. It feels engraved deep in the notches of her skull that she’ll want him and only him, that she needs him inside of her always, that she needs to bear his children. That the idea thrills her. To be swollen with the child of Ridge Lindal, so brutal to everyone including her, but so willing to use that brutality for her.

Soon, each breath he takes is edged with either a growl or a groan and he’s fucking her harder, so hard she’ll break. She’s got tears streaming down her eyes from the hurt and the ecstasy and she could have him like this forever. Even if it kills her. It feels like it might.

“Fuck, gonna come quick. Gonna come in this perfect little cunt, can’t fucking hold back.”

I love you, she thinks but doesn’t say. The words are too overdone in her mouth and this feels like a different thing. It feels stronger. Scraped like gravel under her skin after a fall. “I belong to you, Ridge,” she whispers. He smiles. Such a beautiful sight.

Could he keep fucking her? He’s swollen inside her. Something new, with her, that his body has never done with anyone else. He felt it in the bathroom, that engorging at his base that locked him so tight inside her he blacked out when he came. Now, he’s dizzy but his body wants to stay. It’s inconceivable, pulling from her. It’ll hurt like hell if he extracts himself, so he could just continue. Maybe if he does, the man will simply walk away.

That’s what Ridge is going to do to the man who mocks his fawn. He is going to tear him apart so thoroughly that even when they find his bones they’ll have to shift through the shards for proof of humanity.

Oh, he will make the reverend’s torture last longer than any hurt he’s ever caused. His fawn doesn’t fucking pray for heaven. She gets on her knees for him.

“Don’t believe in heaven,” Ridge says curtly. It’s not entirely true. He just knows that heaven is between his girl’s legs and if he does this right they’ll find it in each other until the sun falls from the sky.

Ridge smiles. Big and broad, he shows his sharp teeth when he does. He sits Sadie down at the pew, notices his own cum glistening on her inner thigh, and growls. She’ll look gorgeous on her knees with her elbows propped up. With her skirt lifted to her waist. He’ll make her pray to him like that, in this church, once he kills these men. Paint crosses over the points of her nipples and drink the blood of their kill from her skin.

His sweet little fawn shot him not too long ago and now she’ll plead for his life. How darling. He truly does love her.

He turns slowly to stare at the reverend. Stays on his knees. He wonders where he’d best like to start with this man. The throat is the most satisfying, but it makes for a quick death. “The eyes first,” he says to himself. “Pardon?” the reverend asks. “I don’t like that you saw my woman like that,” he says coldly. “So I’m going to eat your eyes first.”

He grabs the reverend and scoops his two fingers into the man’s eye socket, fishing out the slimy ball and popping it into his mouth like a fig. Pushes the holy man to the side and marches towards his screaming brother.

The man screams but doesn’t seem to notice he’s screaming. His eyes are wide on the arm that was once his but now belongs to no one. Ridge makes sure he’s watching as he takes a bite of the man’s bicep.

Ridge looks at the preacher on the ground, holding his wound. Bleeding from his empty eye socket. The man on the floor at Ridge’s feet is missing an arm and that arm is currently in Ridge’s right hand. He has to bite back a smile because his sweet fawn is innocent enough to think they can pretend this was self defense.

Fucking divine, her body. Only thing that could make him believe in God is the thought that someone carved her.

“Such a good fucking girl today. You gonna be good for me now?”

“So fucking pretty, my little fawn,” he growls. He grabs her face and jerks it towards his own. “Drench my fucking knee.”

“That’s my good girl,” he says, smearing crimson on her face.

“You’re going to lick and suck every drop of blood from my cock, little fawn,” he says, tangling his fingers in the hair at her scalp. He grips tight and she whimpers. “Then, I’m going to make you choke. I’m going to keep you from breathing. Do you know why?” She’s panting but she keeps her gaze steady on him. “Because it feels good?” He smiles. “No. Because that’s how it felt when you left. You took the air with you.”

“Gonna get you pregnant, little fawn,” he groans. “God, I’m gonna fucking breed you. Fill you with my cum every day, put a fucking baby inside you…”

This urge to own her in a different way from those he eats. This urge to make a family with her. He wants this now. What Wright had.

She’s sobbing and moaning and he’s going to black out again. He’s going to black out inside of her, bent over a chestnut pew in a church filled with blood and cum and they’ll burn him for this but who gives a damn when it’s her?