The Library

Lilith

T y’s laughter is still echoing in my ears as we pull up to the house. I barely register his words as he makes jokes about me being a psycho, about wanting to take me on one of his assignments. Ty is fucked up like that. He loves the killing. I’ve seen the way his eyes light up when he talks about it. He’s probably a literal psychopath. But I’ve grown to love him, in a way. The way he loves Anna, so completely and fiercely—it’s impossible not to.

But my mind isn’t on Ty right now. It’s on Sebastian. It’s on what happened back at the club. The blood is still drying on my skin, a reminder of what I did, what I nearly became . And the thing that terrifies me most? I liked it. I liked the way it felt to slam that whore’s face into the fucking mirror, to feel her blood on my hands, to know I could take her life if I wanted to.

Ty cracks another joke as we step out of the car, something about how he wants me as his new partner in crime. But I don’t laugh. I don’t even look back. My feet carry me straight inside, the rage still bubbling beneath my skin, and the blood staining my white dress only fuels it further. I don’t head for the shower. I should, but I don’t. I want him to see me like this. I want him to feel this.

The house is quiet. Sebastian lingers in the living room, probably making himself another drink, taking his time like he always does. I know he’s calm, collected, but I’m not. My hands are trembling, my pulse still racing from what happened. That blonde bitch had the audacity to touch him, to trail her fingers down his chest like he was hers. And maybe a part of me knows that he’s fucked her before—hell, who hasn’t he fucked? But that doesn’t matter now. He’s mine.

I make my way into the bedroom, the large mirror by the bed catching my reflection. I stare at myself—my hair wild, my body naked except for the blood that stains my skin and the heels still strapped to my feet and his blood stone ring on my finger. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can feel the darkness crawling inside me, wrapping itself around my soul, consuming me. But I don’t fight it.

If this is who I’m becoming, then so be it.

I hear his footsteps coming down the hall, slow and deliberate, the sound filling the quiet of the house like a pulse, getting closer, each step like a countdown to the moment he’ll see me. My body is still buzzing, still trembling from everything that’s happened tonight. The blood, the violence—it’s coursing through me, changing me. I feel it in my bones. When the door opens, it’s like the air shifts, and there he is, standing in the doorway, taking it all in.

Sebastian’s eyes land on me, and his whole body freezes. His gaze sweeps over me, drinking in every detail—the blood staining my skin, the heels still strapped to my feet, his name branded onto my pussy, his ring filled with blood on my finger, my naked body bathed in the soft glow of the bedroom light. His eyes darken instantly, filling with a hunger so intense it feels like a tangible thing between us. I watch the bulge in his jeans throb, his cock hardening, pressing against the fabric as his lips part slightly.

“Holy fuck, darling…” His voice is low, rough with desire. I can see it in his eyes, the way they burn as they devour me. He’s never looked at me like this before, not with this mix of awe and something darker, more primal. And for once, I feel the power shift between us.

He wants me, but this time, I’m the one who holds the control.

I move toward him, my steps slow and deliberate, savoring the weight of each moment. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, but it’s not fear. It’s something else. Something darker, more dangerous. When I reach him, I don’t hesitate. I lean in close, pressing my lips against his ear, my breath hot against his skin.

“This will be anything but holy, Sebastian,” I whisper, my voice dripping with the promise of what’s to come.

He groans, his hands coming up to grab me, but I pull back just enough to keep him off balance, to remind him that this isn’t his game tonight. He’s not the one in charge. I push him back toward the chair in the corner of the room, my fingers slipping under his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion. His chest is bare, hard muscle and ink, and I take my time, letting my fingers trail down his skin, feeling the tension in his body as he tries to keep control.

But I’m not done.

I strip him of his shoes, socks, and jeans, the whole time never breaking eye contact. His smirk grows wider, that cocky grin telling me he thinks this is just another game. Another round of our usual play. He thinks he knows how this will end.

But he has no idea.

As soon as he’s naked and sitting in the chair, I grab the leather straps that hang from the arms—the same ones he used to tie me down with. His smirk fades just a little as I tighten the straps around his wrists, making sure he can’t move. His eyes flick to mine, narrowing slightly.

“If you want to tie me up and fuck me, darling, I won’t stop you,” he says with a laugh, his voice filled with amusement. He still thinks this is funny. He still thinks he holds all the cards.

But he’s wrong.

I tighten the straps, making sure they bite into his skin just enough to keep him from moving. I stand up, my body naked and covered in blood, feeling the weight of his gaze as I move toward his jeans, pulling his knife from the pocket. The same knife he’s used on me so many times before, the same one that’s drawn blood from my skin in the heat of our darkest moments.

His eyes follow the blade, a flicker of something—excitement, anticipation—flashing across his face.

“Oh, Sebastian, darling…” I murmur, leaning down so my lips brush against his ear. “By the time I’m done here, you’re going to be begging me to fuck you, baby.”

His laugh fades, his cocky smirk replaced with something darker. His eyes narrow as he watches me, his muscles tense against the leather straps holding him down. He can feel the power shift. He knows this is different. But he’s not scared. If anything, he’s fucking excited.

I drop to my knees in front of him, the knife still in my hand as I take his cock into my mouth. He groans, his head falling back as I take him deep, the muscles in his arms straining against the restraints. I can feel him fighting the urge to move, to thrust into my mouth, but this isn’t about what he wants. This is about what I want.

And I want to make him fucking lose it.

I drag the blade down the inside of his thigh, the cold metal brushing dangerously close to his cock. It’s a warning, and he knows it. He stills immediately, his eyes locking onto mine, and I can see it—the thrill, the excitement. He’s fucking loving this.

I move from his cock to his balls, licking and sucking, making him groan louder, his hips twitching with the need to thrust. He’s on the edge, I can feel it. His body is shaking with the effort to stay still, to not take control, but I’m not giving him the satisfaction. Not yet.

“How does this feel, darling ?” I ask, using his own word as my own, my voice low and dangerous as I drag my tongue along the length of his cock, teasing him.

“So good, baby,” he groans, his voice strained, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Keep going. Just like that.”

I look up at him, my eyes burning with the same possessive fury I felt at the club. “How does it feel to have the control ripped away from you like this?”

His eyes narrow as he watches me, realization flickering across his face. He knows what I’m doing, and I can see the excitement in his gaze. The power shift, the darkness—it’s fucking turning him on.

I drag the blade across his chest, just enough to draw blood, and then I lean down, licking it off. His body tenses beneath me, his breath hitching as the cold metal cuts into his skin, but he doesn’t flinch. He watches me with dark fascination, his body taut with anticipation.

“If another woman ever touches you again, I’ll kill her,” I whisper, dragging the blade up to his neck, barely pressing it against his skin. His pulse thrums beneath the knife, but he’s not afraid. He’s fucking excited. I can feel it in the way his body reacts, in the way his cock throbs in my hand.

He leans forward, pushing the blade into his skin and cutting his neck, capturing my lips in a rough, hungry kiss. His blood smears across my breasts as I push closer, his cock hard and throbbing beneath me.

I straddle him, sinking down onto his cock, taking him deep into my pussy with one smooth motion. He groans, pulling at the straps that bind him to the chair, his body straining as I fuck him hard and fast. Every thrust is filled with the need to claim him, to mark him as mine, just as he’s done to me so many times before.

His head falls back, his muscles flexing against the restraints as he loses himself in the moment. But this time, I’m the one in control. I’m the one calling the shots. I ride him with a wild, possessive fury, my body moving with a primal need to take what’s mine.

He groans, his body trembling as he nears the edge, but I don’t slow down. I don’t let up. I fuck him like it’s the last time I’ll ever have him, pouring every ounce of anger and frustration, every drop of possessive fury, into each thrust.

And when he finally comes, his body shuddering beneath me, I don’t stop. I keep riding him, taking everything he has to give, until we’re both a mess of blood, sweat, and desire.

I know he’ll punish me for this later. I know this game we’re playing is far from over.

But right now, I’m the one in control.

And I fucking love it.