TWIRL ENTERS THE ROOM five minutes before our time is set to begin. It’s Friday night, and I need her, my body’s wound tight from denying myself the pleasure of her touch. From only watching her through a small screen or sitting beside her a few hours at night when she’s sleeping inside that tiny bedroom.
For her I’ve gone from voyeur to stalker, and I’m not the least bit ashamed.
And knowing what I do now, my killing of her family is a gift to humanity. They deserve the worst. Will receive a punishment befitting the crime.
“I can do this,” she whispers then, pulling my attention back to her. For tonight, I vow to focus and make this solely about her. Give her something no one has ever before.
A choice.
London is stunningly beautiful; her steps slow while making her way toward the stereo and picking up the remote. That’s when she notices the piece of paper there. A small note asking her to follow my instructions:
Hit play.
Face the wall.
Close your eyes.
Count to ten.
Fuck, I’ve missed her.
Miss her looking at me with sweet and curious eyes. Miss seeing the want reflecting back at me.
Her breathing escalates, and the remote in her hand slips to the floor as a shiver runs up her spine. This between us is palpable—an unstoppable force we can’t control.
Can’t deny no matter how much I know she’s fighting it. Hearing her tonight while she spoke to the girls through a speaker inside Liam’s office only confirmed what I already know…
Twirl is afraid.
Too pure for this son of a bitch that will break down every one of her walls. The more I see—learn about her—the stronger my urges become. The more the idea of us cements itself in my head.
“I’m going insane,” she whispers to herself, oblivious to my presence within the room. Just how I want it. I’m hiding in the shadows. Nothing except her stage is lit up while I watch and sip from my drink. “Why am I letting him get to me?”
Because you want me. Because I’m as under your skin as you are under mine.
Twirl stretches her neck from side to side, shaking her limbs out to expel the tension. It’s a waste of time; we’re meant to explode. To burn hotter than the motherfucking sun each time we come together.
It takes her a few minutes, but London bends at the waist to pick up the small control. The little dress; a flirty light yellow number with a sweetheart neckline and short hem rides up, giving me a peak of the silk panties underneath. The ones that carry my initials at the upper right hand corner.
A guttural growl builds in my chest at the sight, but I fight it. Swallow my desire while palming my hard-as-steel cock, the thin dress pants doing little to contain the visible bulge—the throbbing against the metal zipper.
I want to fuck her. Own her.
Bury myself so deep within her pussy that she’ll feel me for days after. Ride her so hard that the imprint of my dick will forever be etched into her walls. Mine will be the only cock she’ll ever know. Ever want.
Closing my eyes, I take in a deep inhale. Try to regain composure when the music begins. A slow and sensual beat meant to entice the senses. That blatantly expresses my desires.
The hunger to taste every single inch of her.
My eyes snap open as the first riffs rent the air. I wait for her next move.
Her acceptance.
London takes her time, and I am in no rush.
I count down the seconds until I see her turn and give me her back. Another harsh exhale leaves her, arms shaking, and I quietly stand.
Another minute and she tips her face down. I follow her move with one of my own. Then another, and it’s when I’m halfway across the room that I hear her.
“One, two, three…four,” she whispers to herself, and then pauses. London tilts her head as if listening for my entrance. Tsk, tsk, baby. Come on. Finish for me. Holding my position, I wait for her to begin again. Sixty seconds pass, the intro for another song begins, and she gives in. “Five, six, seven…”
Before Twirl can say eight, I’m right behind her, her back to my front, and my hands clench as she whimpers out a shaky nine.
We both need this. To be close. To touch, and before she utters the next number, my lips are at her ear. Kissing the shell, nuzzling her fragrant skin. “Ten.”
“I knew you were here.”
Behemoth by D.M. Earl
