And I like her broken. I like her shattered. I want her tears. Her fears. I want the darkest and most intense parts of her. Every human emotion that she can feel, I will experience through her.
My steps are quiet, and she does not hear me coming. But my Bella is smart. Paranoid like her father. She can sense me. She looks down the dark passageway and freezes for a split second before she turns and runs again.
This time, I give chase.
Following behind her, I do not try to disguise the sounds of her predator. I want to feel her heart beneath mine when I capture her.
She catches her foot on a rock and cries out when she collapses onto her knees. Bloody and dirty and still trying to crawl away when she sees my shadow.
“Javi?” she whispers. “Is that you?”
The hope in her voice ignites the hunger in me. She wants it to be me. She dreads it being anyone else. And who else would it be?
This is a fear I did not know existed. One that I will exploit at a later time. But for now, I will take pleasure in this knowledge. And I will not answer her. Even when I catch her around the ankle and she screams, I give nothing away.
I lower the full weight of my body onto hers, pressing her into the dirt as I stroke her hair, and my lips find her throat. She shivers, and her heart is loud. Erratic. Beating so hard it vibrates up through her and into my chest.
She breathes in, and she is relieved.
“It is you.”
My Bella is smarter than I give her credit for sometimes.
I flip her over beneath me and position myself between her legs.
“Please, Javi,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”
“Not yet,” I reply. “But you will be.”
Her chest heaves and she trembles when I grasp her throat and lick her face.
This has gone on long enough. I have been too kind to her. She has grown too attached to me. She should be afraid. Not relieved. And I don’t know how this happened.
I squeeze her throat, cutting off her air while she claws at my wrist. I count the seconds in my head, quietly. And then I let her go, listening as she gasps for breath and sobs beneath me.
Now, there is fear. The way it should be. But when I reach down and touch her between her legs, she is still wet for me. Soaked for me. And there is something wrong with her too.
This sweet beauty is just as fucked in the head as I am, perhaps.
It makes my chest warm, and I want to kiss her. Hold her. These are not things I should want. So I unzip my jeans instead.
Her breath halts, and she clings to my biceps.
“Javi?”
I position the head of my cock against her wetness. Her deranged need for me.
There is no more time for niceties. I plow through her virginity in one hard thrust. She bucks up against me and cries out, but still, she clings to me.
“Javi,” she whispers again.
This time, I do kiss her. Because I have to. My own disturbed need for her is getting the best of me.
That voice inside of my head tells me I’ve claimed her. I own her now. She’s mine. And nobody else will ever have her this way. Nobody else will ever get to touch her this way.
She kisses me back and digs her nails into my arms as I roll my hips and fuck her into the dirt. I tell her that she is nothing in one breath, and everything in the next.
She sobs and pulls me closer, burying her face between my neck and chest. Smelling me. Covering my skin with her tears.