Fable of Happiness (Fable 2)

With jeans clinging to my thighs and the sounds of my own grunts mixing with the crackling fire, I fell on top of the woman.

She fought me. “Stop it!”

My entire body jerked.

It’d never felt like this before.

The tingling, the hissing, the crackle of connection and chemistry.

I’d never been so fucking mad or so hungry for sex.

If fighting her felt this good, what would fucking her be like?

My left arm, complete with some weird contraption around my forearm, kept her throat locked to the floor while my right went to her hips.

She couldn’t stop this.

It was already too late.

I had to have her.

She. Was. Mine.

Levin vanished.

Chewed by fire or waiting in the snow, I didn’t fucking care.

He’d turned me into this.

He’d snapped my mind and left me gagging for more.

I wanted to be the one in power for a change.

To hear someone else beg for their life.

To have them cry and writhe, to whimper and obey.

I sought her trousers. A skirt. Panties. I prepared to rip down any obstruction between us.

But there was nothing.

Just bare skin and delectable warmth.

Warmth of a human instead of fire. Warmth that was comfort instead of pain. Warmth that drew me in, intoxicated me, and made my vision turn black with desire.

“Think you can hurt me and not be hurt in return?” I hissed, wedging my hips between hers, spreading her legs with a strength that surprised me. I was stronger than her. By a lot. It took hardly any effort to kick her ankles apart, sink until our bodies pressed tight, then seek that perfect softness that had no choice but to welcome me.

“No!” Tears fell down the woman’s cheeks. “Don’t.”

Something inside me cracked.

Something commanded I stop.

But when had they ever stopped?

My tears had meant nothing to them. My screams, my begs, my blood. It’d all meant nothing. It’d all added to their lust. Their thrill.

That was me now.

I was them.

I was the monster, and fuck, it turned me on.

No, I wouldn’t stop.

I would never stop.

I’d earned this.

It’s my turn.

My hips surged forward.

Her back bowed. “Please—”

I found her entrance.

“No—”

“Fuck!” I thrust deep.

I sank fast.

I sheathed my entire length inside her.

“Oh, God,” she cried out, arching beneath me as I took her.

I couldn’t breathe as her body fisted tight around mine.

Holy Christ, I’d never felt anything this good. This intense. This toxic.

She felt like sin and air, freedom and suffocation.

It wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

I had to have her. All of her. I had to imprint her onto my soul and stamp ownership all over hers, just like others had done to me.

She was just...more. More pain. More lies. More perverse in every way.

I couldn’t get enough.

I pulled back and thrust deep.

She moaned.

I snarled.

Never.

Never had sex felt so absolute. I wasn’t just fucking her. I was consummating all the filth inside my mind with all the venom in hers.

We were joining, smearing, knotting. It wasn’t just our bodies that linked but deeper things, scarier things.

She was a guest.

She was my enemy.

But goddammit, she felt like fucking heaven.

The smell of death saturated my mind as snowflakes became flames, and flames became snowflakes, and we fucked in a circle of flickering orange disaster.

All their tricks, their taunts, their tortures.

I’d lived through it all. I’d protected my family. I’d given myself in their place. I could’ve run. But I never did because they would be the ones punished.

I was their thing.

But now...she was mine.

I deserved this.

I rutted deeper, taking what I was owed.

This wasn’t about pleasure.

This was about purging my body of every black and twisted thing. I needed to come to be free. I needed to pour out the nightmare inside me before it smothered me.

That was why she’d appeared. Why I’d never seen her before. Why I’d never been dragged in chains to serve her nasty whims.

They’d known that the moment I touched her, things would be different. I would be different. I would take and steal and covet and hoard because touching her was better than anything in my entire disgusting world.

I drove into her, again, again, feeling the spasms of her body, the tightness of her pussy. She tried to deny me, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but coming inside her and finding that perfect release.

The tingles of pleasure shot down my spine.

So close.

So, so close.

I could drown in it.

Lose myself in it.

It could be my salvation if only I could finish.

The power of her touch, the uniqueness of our connection.

She was pure in this soiled, sullied world. She was the only thing I ever wanted after a decade of living in the revolting dark.

Fuck, I couldn’t stand it.

I wanted nothing else. Her. Only her. No breath, no heartbeat, no future. I just wanted her. One second of euphoria and then she could kill me. Every guest could butcher me alive, and I would accept it gladly because for the first time, I lived. I knew what it was like to be a man and not the slave.