The Library

Sebastian

S he opened the window.

Of course, she did.

I stand in the shadows, watching as she leans out slightly, her breath misting in the cool night air. My heart pounds, but not from nerves—no, I don’t get nervous. This is excitement, the rush of knowing she’s playing into my hands, following my lead even though she doesn’t understand why. I am the monster in the dark she’s always feared, and yet here she is, unknowingly dancing with that very darkness. She’s so close, teetering on the edge, and it’s only a matter of time before I devour her whole.

I stay hidden for a few more moments, watching as she locks the window again, as if that’s going to keep me out. It won’t. Nothing will.

I already feel her. The darkness she tries to hide, the twisted desires she buries deep—I know them because they’re the same as mine. I am the darkness she craves, even if she won’t admit it yet. She’s cautious, sure, but there’s a hunger in her, a pull toward the things that terrify her. That’s why she’s perfect for me. Because I’m the nightmare she can’t resist, the shadow that’s already wrapped itself around her soul.

When I told her to open the window, I didn’t expect her to comply so easily. I thought she’d resist, at least a little, but no. She obeyed, and now she’s lying in her bed, probably wondering what the fuck just happened. Probably wondering what comes next.

I smile to myself, imagining her there, vulnerable, her mind racing with possibilities. She doesn’t even know my full name yet, but she’s already opened herself up to me in ways she won’t admit. She wants me, even if she’s afraid to say it. She’ll learn soon enough—learn how good it feels to be my whore. I’ll make her realize how fucking perfect it feels to surrender, to give in to the darkness that’s always been waiting for her.

I slip further into the shadows, moving silently, like a predator stalking its prey. This is part of the game, the build-up, the tension that pulls her in deeper with every passing moment. I want her to wonder, to question herself, to feel that constant gnawing desire. Because when I finally claim her, she won’t just give herself to me—she’ll beg for it.

I head back to my car, parked a few blocks away where she can’t see it. This is a waiting game, and I’ve always been good at waiting. Patience, precision—that’s what separates me from others. It’s what keeps me in control. And with Lilith, control is everything.

She’s different from the others. There’s something about her, something I can’t quite explain, but it’s there. That spark, that darkness that matches mine in ways that even I didn’t expect. I knew she was special the first time I saw her, but the more I watch, the more I’m sure of it. She’s the one I’ve been looking for but never thought I’d find.

Soon, she’ll understand that.

Soon, she’ll realize that she was always meant to be mine.

I drive through the quiet streets, my mind buzzing with plans as “Slayer” by Bryce Savage blares through the speakers. There’s no need to rush this. I want her to come to me willingly, to want me as much as I want her. But that doesn’t mean I’ll make it easy. No, she’ll have to earn it, step by step, as I peel away the layers of her fear and hesitation. I’ll make her crave me. And when she finally gives in, it’ll be on my terms.

My phone buzzes, and I glance at the screen. A message from one of my father’s men, asking about business. I ignore it for now. This—Lilith—is more important. Everything else can wait.

I pull up to my house, the quiet settling around me as I kill the engine. The drive back from her place has done nothing to cool the fire inside me, the thrill of being so close to her, of leaving her there with her thoughts racing. The memory of her scent, her presence, still lingers in my mind. I’ve been inside her apartment enough times to know the way she moves through her space—how she breathes, how she lives. It’s intimate. Almost too intimate.

I step into the dark stillness of my house, the quiet a sharp contrast to the buzzing in my veins. The air feels heavy with anticipation, thick with the thought of what’s coming next. I make my way through the hallway, my mind replaying every moment with her, every breathless reaction, every time her body trembled under my touch.

The memory of her in The Library, her body grinding against my hand, coming undone on my fingers—it haunts me. I can still feel the slick heat of her pussy, the way she clenched around me, desperate and needy. My cock twitches at the memory, already straining against my pants. I can’t stop thinking about the way I licked my fingers clean of her come, savoring the taste of her right in front of her. She watched me, her eyes wide and glazed with lust as I devoured every drop of her sweetness, and fuck, she tastes so good.

The thought of her has me harder than I’ve ever been, but it’s not enough. I need more. I need her to come all over my face, her thighs trembling as I lap her up like a man dying of thirst. I want to bury my face between her legs, tasting that sweet cunt as she falls apart for me, her juices coating my tongue while she begs for more.

The taste of her lingers in my mind, and it only fuels my need to have her again.

By the time I make it to the bathroom, I’m burning with the need for release. I strip off my clothes, the fabric falling to the floor as I step into the shower. The water rushes over me, scalding hot, but it does nothing to cool the fire inside. My hand wraps around my cock, so hard and throbbing as the image of her fills my mind.

I close my eyes, thinking of her in The Library, her back arched as she tried to fuck herself on my fingers. The way she moaned, the way her body gave in to me completely—it’s seared into my memory. I stroke my cock slowly, imagining her tight cunt wrapped around me, squeezing every inch of my length. I know I’m big, and the thought of stretching her out, of tearing her pussy apart with my cock, makes my breath hitch.