Tʜᴀᴛ Mᴀsᴋᴇᴅ Sᴛᴀʟᴋᴇʀ 🔞

thє tαѕtє σf ѕín

Y/N

He stands above me, his over six-foot frame towering over my measly five foot-five.

He won. He caught me. I thought I’d easily escape my own home by outwitting him. But instead, I kicked him in the face. I cut him. I smashed a bottle over his head, and yet here he stands. Bleeding above me with eyes that burn into mine, like the entire game was simply foreplay to a man from his depths of hell.

Insanity doesn’t even cover it.

“W-what?”

“I said, be a good girl and suck on my tongue,” he snaps at me.

I’ve never even heard of such a thing.

“You want me to...kiss you?” I ask.

I can see his eyes narrow beneath the cracked skull mask.
“No.” He frowns in disgust, as if the idea is sickening to him. “I told you to suck on my tongue. Wrap your lips around it, and suck.”

His words, the way he’s demanding, and the wild look in his eyes, has my forehead glossing over with perspiration and my body tense with a mixture of nerves and impulses that are seemingly out of my control.

Pressing me against the door, I feel the hardening in his pants as he grinds into me. Just the idea that I can cause such a reaction to a man makes my face flush. He leans down over me, tilting his chin out so our mouths are aligned, his shaggy, wet hair tickling my forehead. He smells like wine, leather, and horrible, soul-shattering decisions.

His lips part as his tongue dips out of his mouth, and he waves it gently before me like the deceptive serpent he is. I feel faint as my eyes drop from his eyes to his tongue. Slowly, with staggered movements, my lips finally part and I wrap my lips around his awaiting tongue. Sliding back off it, I suck it like a lollipop, popping off it at the end.

His wet, warm tongue tastes subtly sweet on my lips, not at all how I envisioned the taste of sin. I lean back against the wooden door, gazing up at him, feeling a strange wave of pleasure wash over me from the simple, yet entirely strange act.

“You felt that,” he says, his eyes studying my face. “That tingly sensation that rolls down your spine and travels between your legs, making your muscles tighten and clench up.”

I swallow, frowning at his accurate description before my eyes dart to the floor in embarrassment.His hand grips my jaw tightly, tilting my face up towards his.
“Those feelings, those thoughts...those desires.” His grip softens as his fingers run down the side of my neck. “They’re entirely ingrained into your genetic make-up. Originating long before men made up rules to control the depths of you.”

I’m holding my breath, just staring back at him as his nose lines up with mine again. “You’re a woman without a voice, Y/N,” he whispers against my lips.
“Let me be the throat through which you scream.”

I’m stunned by his words, and I feel almost drunk in his presence. At least, what I’m assuming being drunk feels like. I’m lightheaded, dizzy, and yet every part of my body is alert and alive, swirling in self-destruction, feeding off the personalized scripture he’s professing.

His head tips towards my neck, where I feel his lips feather against my skin. He trails them down my blood-covered chest until he’s kneeling on the floor before me, his face in direct line with my breasts. My heart rate booms through me as both of his large hands splay themselves across my abdomen.

He holds them there before blinking and looking up at me through the cracked skull mask.
Evil can come to you in many forms. Seduction. Like a snake, he slithers his way into my veins, finding the depth of me. Reaching those bones, he wraps himself tightly around me until my life is taken hostage, and my only release is through his maze. He owns me. My freedom in his games.