Cruel Intentions | ✓

01 | PLEASURE AND PAIN

01
PLEASURE
AND
PAIN

▿ ▿ ▿

SHE WAS DRUNK when they met.

Head spinning, heart racing, vision blurring – drunk.

She didn't know a single person at the house party she had crashed, but she knew she was out of her mind drunk when he approached her, eyes compelling and lips inviting.

He was handsome. In a dark way that chilled her bones.

Do you want to get out of here? he said.

She smiled at his enticing words that dripped with honey. His voice was so soft and so soothing, it made her feel like she was floating.

She asked if he had cigarettes. He said of course, baby. She grinned, grabbed his hand, and led the way out.

       His hands were cold against hers.

They leaned against the wall, feeling the distant music pump through the air into their rotting lungs. The coldness of the brick wall pricked at her as she took a deep breath and puffed the cigarette smoke at his face, temporarily hiding his beautiful, goddamned perfect face.

As the smoke faded into the sultry air, revealing his face sculpted by the shadows, she stared. It was hard not to.

Why are you staring at me like that? he smiled like he knew something she didn't.

She blinked and looked away. The alcohol, the smoke, his presence – it all made her dizzy.

The air tasted bitter in her mouth.

Life was bitter.

She looked at her cigarette, admiring the tiny flame that burned its way up the paper. Her eyes followed the poisonous smoke that rose to the sky, slowly fading away and ceasing to exist.

She wished she could disappear like that, too.

Without thinking, she pressed the burning cigarette into her wrist, flinching like she hadn't expected it to hurt as it dropped to the ground.

Fuck! He exclaimed next to her, throwing his own cigarette away. Why the hell did you do that?

He grabbed her hand and inspected the burn mark.

I don't know, she said.

And then he kissed the burned flesh lightly. It surprised her, the feeling of his lips against her numbed skin.

You're crazy, he said, but he was looking at her with newfound interest. His lips curled into a Cheshire cat smile as he ran his fingers up her arm. They skimmed her pale skin, leaving dancing sensations that made her forget the digging pain on her wrist.

If you say so, she replied. She could be crazy if that's what he liked.

       His eyes sparkled.

God, he was so beautiful.

She didn't protest when he pushed her hard against the wall, didn't protest as he pressed a rough kiss against her neck, her jaw, her lips. She didn't protest when his hand dug into her waist, the other caging her in against the cold brick wall.

       Was there a line between pleasure and pain? She couldn't feel a difference as his touch burned against her like cigarettes.

       He nipped at her ear one last time before pulling away.

His breath against her felt like summer air. She sighed, eyes closed and lips swollen. Was she kissed or was she stung?

Come home with me, he whispered.

       His voice was low and raspy. Wicked promises glittered in his eyes.

She licked her lips. Gladly, she answered.

There wasn't a word that could describe the way he looked at her or the way she felt.

Hours later, they lay in bed, tangled in sheets and each other. He was asleep, his breathing light and his face peaceful under the pale moonlight.

       She lay awake as he rolled over and burrowed his head into her neck. His hair tickled her soft skin.

       And then she pressed hard on the burn mark on her wrist.

       Was there a line between pleasure and pain?

As he breathed pleasure down her neck, she dug deeper into layers of pain.