Dirty Dark Desire: A Dark Erotic Standalone

by Lacey Alpha

  I pant, catching my breath as I ready myself for the next shock. “I'm a creep.”

  And I'm lost to the torture again.

  ⊱✿ ✿⊰

  When I get home that night, I feel fucking weird. My skin tingles from the electricity; there's two great welts on my sides branded on my skin from the electrodes.

  I force down some toast, having no appetite for anything else. Sitting in the darkness of my flat, I try to get my mind around what happened today.

  The voice hasn't bothered me since I left her house.

  Maybe it's working. Maybe she really meant well by this.

  But I still feel dirty, like I've shared something strangely intimate with Clarissa. And I don't like that thought one bit.

  I shower, trying to get my mind off of the day and, as I return to my bedroom, Hozier blasts into the room.

  I move to my phone, finding Annalise calling.

  My heart turns over.

  Clarissa said it was okay for me to see her again. But she certainly wouldn't have agreed if she knew the truth of who I really went on a date with.

  I answer, dropping down onto the edge of the bed with a towel wrapped around my waist.

  “Hi,” I say, my gut churning.

  “Hey...um...how are you?”

  Hell, if I answered that question honestly she'd be in for a world of fucked up shit.

  “Fine. And you?”

  “Good. I'm sorry to call. It's just, I thought we had a nice chat and then you...”

  “Ran off,” I finish for her, guilt wrenching my gut. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so rude.”

  “It's fine. Really. And I'm sorry for calling, I must be going crazy, I thought I'd ring just to get a straight answer. If you're not into me then I totally get it, I just thought I'd ask. To be sure.”

  I raise my brows at her candor. It was brave of her to put herself on the line like that. It starts a fire in my chest.

  “Of course I like you, Annalise,” I admit, but know I need to be as honest as I can. “But the way I like you- it's not..."

  "Not what, Ethan?"

  "Pure," I spit, turning inwards on myself. And all of a sudden the voice is back, loud and clear.

  Vile, repulsive, weirdo.

  "You don't have to be a saint Ethan."

  "I'm not a good man,” I growl, biting down on my cheek. “And you shouldn't spend time with someone like me.”

  "Don't tell me what to do. You don't even know me," she grows angry. But she has no idea how well I really know her. And that's the whole problem. She has to understand that.

  "You're wrong. I know everything about you. I know that you're too nice, that you give people the benefit of the doubt when they don't deserve it, I know that people walk all over you because of it. And I don't wanna be one of them."

  “How can you possibly think you know that?” she snaps and I shut my eyes, letting her anger wash over me.

  It feels good. It's what I deserve from her. It even gives me a little peace of mind.

  Her next words make me pause. "Everyone's got darkness in them Ethan, some just hide it better than others."

  Like a moth to a flame, that very darkness in me is drawn out. She tempts me in, making me want to see her, to run my fingers over her, to claim her as mine.

  "Show me then Lise, show me how filthy your mind is, show me your twisted thoughts and I'll show you mine. Let's see who's really telling the truth here,” I snarl, standing, the temperature of my blood rising.

  “Fine,” she breathes. “I'll show you. In person.” Her voice wavers a little, betraying her nerves to me.

  I'm compelled to see her, consumed by a vision of her glittering amber eyes, her face wet with tears like it was the other night. I want to taste them, to have her body surrendered to me, mine to explore.

  I drop my towel, moving to the chest of drawers and snatching out some clothes. “I'll be at yours in ten minutes.”

  I hang up, giving neither of us a chance to change our minds.

  I justify this in my head. It's easy now that I've succumbed to the dark, recalling the times I've watched her through the window outside her flat, witnessing her in her truest form.

  Dressed in a white shirt and jeans, I head to her flat, walking the two blocks in under ten minutes and jamming my thumb against her buzzer.

  You shouldn't know which one it is, creep.

  The voice seems more visceral than ever, my thoughts wild and tainted.

  I thumb the welts on my ribs, pressing down, giving me a reminder of the pain I received earlier, hoping it will help ward off the voice again.

  Annalise opens the door, her eyes landing on mine, leaving me breathless.

  The darkness recedes. I'm laid bare, anxious and wanting. Desperate to win this woman's approval, to lose myself in another sweet kiss.

  I make the decision before I've really acknowledged it, grabbing her by the waist and dragging her against me.

  She responds eagerly, clutching my neck, moaning softly as I explore her tongue with mine. I want to reach into her body, feel her soul and wrap it in my fist, never letting go.

  “Upstairs,” she insists, stumbling backwards from my ferocity.

  She laughs as I catch her, but my mood is hungry, my eyes trained on her spine as she leads me upstairs.

  Twisted psycho.

  I almost pause, blinking hard to rid myself of the voice. Can I really justify this to myself?

  Annalise leads me into her apartment and I barely have time to take it in before she throws herself at me once more.

  I catch her mouth in a fervent kiss, walking her backwards, my boxers tightening. It's been so long since I've indulged in a woman.

  Indulge in one then. Anyone but HER.

  I can't stop, my fingers sliding beneath her top. A sigh leaves my chest at the feel of her burning skin. She's divine, softer than velvet, the heat of her body like the sun, warming the iciness of my heart.

  I run my fingers up and up, yanking it off.

  Her hands slide into my waistband and I groan as her fingers graze the head of my cock. She starts undoing my belt, taking hold of the loose end and walking backwards, guiding me to her room.

  I'm undone by her, giving in, wanting the world to dim around me, to forget the truth.

  The truth of what I am.

  Black-hearted scum.

  I halt in my tracks, my mouth going dry.

  No. This is all wrong.

  Her hair frames her flushed cheeks, her mouth parted and wet. She's the apple hanging in the garden of Eden and I'm a slave to her temptation.

  She moves backwards, dropping onto the bed and reaching out a hand to me.

  Despite myself, I take it, letting her encourage me forward, dropping over her before she can reach for my belt again.

  I can control myself. I won't fuck her. I just want to feel her body against mine.

  She tugs up my shirt, reading my thoughts. I quickly press my abs against her stomach, not giving her a chance to discover the wounds on my body. I rub against her, encouraging her higher up the bed, prowling after her on my hands and knees.

  Her hair falls around her, her back arched so her full breasts lift to meet the hard lines of my chest.

  I press my weight onto her, her skin luxurious against mine.

  And I know I'm lost, falling and falling into the most alluring place I've ever been.

  ETHAN

  I slide my thumb into her mouth, circling it on her hot tongue, her eyes questioning.

  When I lower my hand between us, she gets it, smiling a wry smile. “Is this the darkest you can be, Ethan? Because it doesn't seem so bad.”

  I reach under her skirt, my fingers sliding beneath the waistband of her knickers.

  “Quiet,” I breathe, relishing her, not wanting to think about the extent of my charred soul.

  I rub her in gentle strokes and she sucks a soft gasp in through her lips.

  I'm transfixed, watching as she comes undone from my touch
. How is it possible that I'm here, doing this to the woman I've revered for so long?

  I gaze at her, mesmerised by her mouth, her soft panting, the way her hips rise and fall, working in rhythm with my hand.

  I suck my lower lip. I used to be good at this. I guess it's something you don't forget.

  My name tumbles over her lips, each letter a soft prayer.

  I dip my head, brushing my mouth over hers. She responds urgently, her hands cupping my neck, drawing me closer.

  If I give in to her, there's no going back.

  My hand doesn't seem quite so condemning as my dick so I circle faster, bringing her to climax.

  She arches her back and I lift my head, absorbing her expression, memorising her flushed cheeks, carefully avoiding her eyes in case they remind me of her.

  She falls still, her chest heaving beneath me.

  The guilt hits me like a shot to the chest.

  You've crossed a line. You can't undo this.

  She reaches between us, tugging at my jeans, sliding down the zip.

  Her eyes find mine, adoring and perplexed, glittering and bright. I jerk away, lifting off her and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I rest my head in my hands, trying to focus.

  This is getting out of control. It can only end one way.

  Her body surrounds me, her legs dangling over the bed, her arms slipping around my waist. She presses her cheek to my back. “You're so hot and cold, Ethan. I wish you'd tell me why.”

  I cup her palms on my chest. My heart beats hard and fast beneath both sets, a warning of my desire.

  Her lips trail kisses up my spine. “I'm sorry. You don't have to say anything. I don't mean to play psychologist.”

  I remain silent a moment longer, desperate to give her a piece of myself.

  “When I was in Iraq, some stuff happened...” I murmur, hoping it's a hint toward some of my troubles. It's not much, but it's something.

  She continues to kiss me and I feel unworthy of her cherished touch.

  “If you want to talk about it, I can listen. But only if you want me to.”

  “I already see a therapist,” I mutter. My words serve to summon a vision of Clarissa, one paper-white leg crossed over the other, her eyes accusing.

  “Okay,” she breathes, leaving another sweet kiss on the back of my neck, coaxing my thoughts back to the room.

  Annalise grounds me, somehow. Perhaps I should open up.

  “But maybe...”

  Bad idea!

  “Mm?” she prompts, gifting me another kiss.

  “Maybe we could talk,” I decide.

  Her chin rubs against my spine and I guess she's nodding.

  “Not in here. Not like this,” I say, standing, pulling on my shirt before she sees the welts on my ribs.

  I stride from the room, entering the lounge, dropping onto the sofa.

  I gaze at the window opposite. The one I've watched her through.

  My blood turns to ice and I divert my gaze to the coffee table instead.

  She's going to find out what you are one day.

  Annalise appears in jogging bottoms and a vest, dropping into an armchair across from me and curling her legs up beneath her.

  “Can I ask you some questions?” She pulls her hair over one shoulder so it caresses her cheek.

  I shrug, resting my elbows on my knees.

  “When were you in Iraq?”

  A lump rises in my throat. “Three years ago.”

  “Why did you leave the army?”

  “I didn't leave.” I shift in my seat, feeling like I do at therapy.

  “It's alright,” she breathes and I glance up, finding her mouth, drawing so much comfort from the soft curve of her lips that I'm able to relax.

  “I was discharged.”

  She doesn't ask why, just waits to see if I'll elaborate.

  I wet my mouth. I've only spoken about this once before, with Clarissa. It was a difficult session. I was torn apart by it.

  “There was an ISIS rebel group near to our camp. My unit was directed to a market. There were rumours that an attack was going to take place there. We were scouting the area for suspicious devices, questioning the locals for tip-offs, that kind of thing.” I tongue at the old bite mark on my gum. It's reduced to nothing but a swollen patch of inflamed skin. I could easily bite it open again, but I don't. “There was a girl-” I pause, gazing at Annalise, lost to a memory I can't ever change.

  She leans toward me, looking pained, like she's feeling the memory too.

  “A girl?” she breathes.

  I drop my eyes, unable to look at her whilst I tell this story. “She was a corporal. She'd just arrived in Kabul the day before. I was leading the team she was assigned to – she was nervous, she needed reassurance. We split into pairs and I kept her with me. Everything was going smoothly until a local boy – a kid – he came up to her, said he wanted to show her around the local mosque.” I thumb at my lip, my eyes glazing over, my heart thumping a frantic tune against my ribcage. “She said no-” I pause, strangled, desperate. “But I told her to go.” My hands tremble.

  It all floods back.

  I'm standing there amongst the crowd, the street coloured in pale yellow, gold and cream. Music surrounds me: the morning prayers sung out into the streets in a warbling chant. I'd grown accustomed to the sound, it barely registered with me. I was more interested in the people around me, looking for a sign that something was wrong. Anything.

  “Ethan?” Annalise yanks me back to the room with her warm voice.

  I start to break at the sight of her eyes and have to shut my own to escape. “The boy came running out of the mosque. I knew something was wrong but the crowd was thick with people. I elbowed my way through, shouting out, telling them to move. The explosion happened before I could get there. The heat of the flames, it was...hell.” I rub my eyes, digging in my fingers. “I ran up the steps, getting as close as I could. And that's when I saw her: screaming, burning. And she...saw me too. She knew it was my fault for telling her to go-”

  My heart races, my palms becoming clammy. The heat of the flames burn my cheeks once more. The waft of a fire so hot, the air alone stings my eyes.

  I press a hand to my chest, trying to catch my breath.

  Small hands curl around mine and I blink away the vision, finding her before me. The girl who looks exactly like her. Like the girl who's dead because of me.

  ETHAN

  “It's okay,” she exhales, her amber eyes promising sanctuary but causing me nothing but agony.

  They're the exact same shade as hers. I've seen those eyes a thousand times in my dreams. I've witnessed them burn, devoured by flames.

  I cup her cheek, running a thumb over the line of bone beneath her eye. Clarissa said I've formed this attachment to try and comfort myself. But I don't feel any comfort. In fact, I think I did it to torment myself. To not let myself forget, or move on with my life.

  You don't deserve to forget. She's dead because of you.

  Annalise moves to kiss me but I halt her, standing. She follows, winding a hand around my wrist.

  “Don't go,” she pleads and I glance down at her, choked.

  “There's more to this,Annalise. More that I can't say. That I can't ever say. I think you'd despise me if you knew it all.” I stand stock still as she moves closer, laying a hand on my bare chest, her fingers taking a winding trail up to my throat.

  “Whatever it is, I'm sure it's not as bad as you think,” she says firmly, gazing up at me.

  I don't meet her eyes, unable to look into them. They're too like hers.

  “You're wrong,” I insist. She doesn't know what she's saying, she doesn't even know me.

  I'm tortured by her, my urges driving me to give in, my mind reminding me not to.

  Go ahead. Fuck the girl you've been stalking. Let's see what happens when the police find out about that.

  I grimace, moving away. “I'm sorry. We shouldn't see each other again.”

 
She stiffens, her arms falling slack at her sides. “Did I do something wrong?”

  Her vulnerable expression cleaves my chest in two. I shake my head, moving toward her, unable to help myself.

  “No, of course not.” I take her hand, lifting it to my lips, tracing her knuckles with my mouth. “It's me. It's all me. I've got issues, Annalise.” I shut my eyes, willing myself to tell her the truth.

  Say it. Tell her what a monster you are.

  “I'm not a good person,” I manage.

  “Everyone has parts of themselves they don't like.” She moves toward me, unblinking.

  My chest rises and falls. “I'm not sure there's a single ounce left in me that's good.”

  Her brows knit together. “You're wrong. You saved me, that night in the park. That makes you a good person.”

  I grind my jaw like a millstone. “I shouldn't have been there that night.”

  “But you were.” She lifts her top over her head, discarding it on the floor.

  I take in her shapely body, a low noise rumbling through my chest in response.

  “And I'm glad it was you.” Her lower lip trembles and I move instinctively to reassure her. I run my thumb over it and she sighs softly against my palm.

  I move, one step then two, circling a hand around her waist, relishing her silken skin, the animal in me taking over.

  Her pupils dilate as my hands roam up her spine, my thumb grazing every rivulet, causing a shiver to run through her.

  “Please,” she whispers, the word her surrender to me.

  I slide my hands down her sides, following the natural curve of her hips. My heart pounds in my ears, blood coursing through my veins, hot and slick and fast.

  I move a hand to my belt, tugging it open, her burning eyes keen and wide as she watches.

  I smother all the warnings in my head, telling me no. And listen to the one, resounding voice of my instincts that cries yes.

  She snatches my hand in a sudden movement, leading me to the bedroom.

  My throat constricts as she perches on the bed. I kneel before her, grabbing hold of her trousers and sliding them down her legs, taking my time.

  When she's free, I stand, dragging down my zip.

  Her eyes are wide, glimmering.

  The heat of flames singes my skin.