The Guily Ones // 2 // Eric NorthmanxOC

Epilog

A/N: 

You guys are in for a TREAT! For those of you who had been hanging in there, dying of thirst, waiting for some action: You'll be well rewarded! So I guess it should be obvious that this chapter is 18+ with some action. Finally! 

I wrote this book a whole while back (well, the German version of it anyways), so I was super hesitant (back then) to actually lean into smut. What can I say: Wattpad and AO3 thoroughly ruined me since then. And writing smut in English is also way less cringe than in my native language. Believe me, there is no such thing as German dirty talk. 

Anyway, without further ado – The last chapter

ERICS POV: 

Like a tiger in a cage.

The comparison didn't quite do it justice. A tiger could at least run from its problems. Fight and snarl, bite and maim. 

I couldn't.

I paced back and forth. The club felt like a blur, the bass thundering, the people crowding, the blood, the endless sex—none of it registered anymore.

All I saw— 

All I felt—

Was her.

Night after night, she haunted me. A goddamn comet shooting across my night sky, blinding me to the stars that once made up my entire world.Compared to her, everything else had faded into irrelevance.

Fighting. Fucking. Killing – Just like that, they'd lost their appeal. Things that had kept me busy for a millennia? As bland as fucking oatmeal. 

I looked down at the dancer on stage at my feet, watching as she slid down the pole, meeting my eyes through heavy lashes. There was nothing subtle about the way her scent curled around me like a whisper, all while giving me that look. The one that screamed fuck me. I could feel the heat radiating off her. Her mouth didn't need to move for me to hear it, but it did anyway.

"Wanna fuck?"

Did I want to? I couldn't tell. Not since I'd lost sight off... well everything.

It had been a while since I'd had a woman—no flesh, no blood — I had abstained, everything beside Ashley feeling like cheap imitation. As if guzzling down a sickly sweet coke after enjoying the finest Bordeaux.

I tried imagining tapping into the woman's vein, as she was currently grinding against the pole, not performing a routine but rather dry humping the metal, but came up short. Instead, the memory of Ashley grinding against me, when my teeth first had penetrated her soft skin hit me like a punch to the gut.

Her taste had been intoxicating. 

Her rage, her heat, the sound of her breath when my teeth sank into her and she liked it. I'd felt every emotion on her tongue, every pulse in my veins, until— for one fleeting, goddamn second—she had been inside me.

We had been one.

I'd never felt closer to another soul.

The paper crinkled in my slacks as I moved to stand once more, reminding me of the pathetic sap I had turned into, pouting like a teenager rejected by the prom queen. Yet, my hands reached into my pockets of their own accord, pulling out the slip of paper. 

I hope when

I know I said, that