Fable of Happiness (Fable 1)

I was affected.

I was wet and heavy and utterly intoxicated in the way he gave me everything.

My world narrowed down to one thing.

Him.

I sucked hard.

I squeezed my fingers and stroked his blazing cock.

He snarled and thrust, his erection slipping deeper into my mouth.

My other senses exploded into hyperawareness. He tasted fresh, like blue rivers and green grasslands. He smelled earthy, like bracken and forest undertones. He pulsed on my tongue, delivering a salty musk that punched me with sex and seduction.

Both his hands dived into my hair, dragging me onto him. His muscular belly pressed against my forehead. His chest rumbled with grunts and groans. His vocal appreciation of what I did to him spurred me forward, erasing my humiliation at sucking a stranger in return for my life.

He changed me.

He showed me that my body wasn’t on my side. That I could lust as dangerously as he. That I could want someone I couldn’t understand or tolerate. He taught me that this was what I’d been missing.

This flair of dominance.

This threat of danger.

This delicious, disgusting power that drove me to my knees and allowed a monster to claim me.

“Fuck!” He threw his head back as I dragged my teeth along his cock. Tears rolled from my eyes as I fought my own battle of right and wrong. My breasts ached to be touched. My clit begged to be rubbed.

In a few manic moments, I’d become hotter and wetter than I’d ever been in my entire life.

I hated him for that.

I hated myself even more.

I sucked him harder, faster, crueler.

I needed this over with...so I didn’t fall even deeper into this erotic nightmare.

Digging my fingernails into the velvet casing of his cock, I didn’t sheath my teeth as I swooped up and sank down. I punished him while punishing myself, and when the temptation to snap almost broke me, when my teeth ached to bite deep, when tears drenched my cheeks and dripped off my chin, he snatched my hair and howled.

He gave me a warning.

He wasn’t like the others.

He stiffened and jerked.

His cock spurted even as he withdrew.

Half his seed spilled over my tongue, the rest spurted all over my chest. Ribbons of white cascading in jets, sticking to my hair, smelling strong and uniquely him.

The second he stopped coming, he tripped away from me. He looked down at his still saliva-glistening cock, and the haggard expression that clouded his face was swallowed up by the blackest storm.

Snatching his slacks from around his ankles, he jerked them up and secured them. The top of his cum-smeared cock popped out of the waistband, angry and raw. He swallowed and swiped both hands through his long hair, sending the mob of darkness to swing to his shoulders.

I sat back on my heels, still cursed with the wet heat inside me.

He’d had a release.

I hadn’t.

He’d come expecting one.

I’d submitted, never expecting to feel an ounce of attraction.

We’d both been destroyed in a single interaction.

I saw it on his face.

He most likely saw it on mine.

The air crushed us, dense and accusing that whatever had just happened was outside both our control.

Bracing his shoulders and standing tall, as if he hadn’t just been curled around my head while thrusting into my mouth, he seethed, “You’ll stay alive another day.”

And then, he was gone.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I SPENT THE DAY AS far away from the basement as possible. As far away from the girl as possible.

Gemma.

Her name is Gemma.

I scoffed and swiped at the weeds daring to encroach on my spinach patch.

Who cared what her damn name was? I’d been the idiot who’d asked, but I definitely wouldn’t be the idiot who cared. It was a stupid name for a stupid girl. There was no other explanation for her.

She was stupid for exploring untouched ravines where she didn’t belong. She was stupid for climbing into a valley without backup. She was stupid for entering a house that wasn’t hers to enter.

But most of all?

She was beyond fucking stupid for offering me something I had no power to refuse.

I threw the handful of weeds into the compost, glancing down at my still eager cock tenting my slacks. All fucking day, I’d been hard as a damn rock. Every time my thoughts strayed to her—no matter how quick the passing thought—my cock went stiff.

It didn’t make sense.

Eleven years ago, I’d never wanted to see another person again, let alone touch them, kiss them, fuck them. I swore off passion and pleasure of any kind for the rest of my life. I was happy to become a monk, living alone in the forest for the rest of my godforsaken days.

Yes, I’d been steadily getting more and more urges before she’d arrived. Yes, I’d struggled not to deal with it on my own. And yes, sometimes, the needs inside me were fucking unbearable, but I didn’t want them, goddammit. The need for a release went against everything I’d become. I hated that my body had overpowered me and eagerly snatched up her offer. I cursed the fact she’d read me, understood exactly what I wanted, and been stupid enough to offer up her body.