Behind Closed Doors
  • Reads 6,230
  • Votes 414
  • Parts 18
  • Time 4h 4m
  • Reads 6,230
  • Votes 414
  • Parts 18
  • Time 4h 4m
Ongoing, First published Jan 02, 2021
This story isn't  your typical fairytale. 

thing is; not all fairytales end up with the frog transforming into a prince or the beauty falling heads over heels for the beast, the reality is far different. 

far more dangerous

far more deadly

far more cruel

sometimes in the process of healing the beast; the beauty becomes a beast herself. 
____________________________________

His chocolate orbs dilated as his gaze locked with mine, he leaned forward, enough to make me reconsider my intentions; I stared back with equal intensity enforcing my mind to stay intact as my eyes silently threatened him to look away first. 

An angelic chuckle erupted from his throat as he tucked a fleeing strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing my earlobe, almost daringly; certainly aware of the effect he had on me. 

My hands that once rested at my sides now pushed upon his chest, desperately trying to create some distance as his warm minty breath continued to hit my face, clouding my conscious.

His hands shot up, tangling with my own as he gripped both my wrists with either one of his hands, trapping me against the wall, his glare never flattening. My breath hitched as his lips crashed upon mine, bruising them.

Pushing me further into the wall, his lips now at my jaw, kissing and biting as he grinds onto me, ensuring I feel every inch of his arousal. Letting out an animalistic groan as he rubs himself onto me, matching my heavy breaths. 

I lean forward to place a quick peck on the tip of his nose; this seems to break his daze, chuckling as he nuzzles back into my neck. "you're going to be the death of me", his voice a mere whisper; burning my skin. 

Oh if only he knew. 

My body tensed on instinct, afraid he had figured it all out, but I discarded the unwelcoming thought instantly. 

He couldn't have

I gaze up at the ceiling, a smile glued onto my lips in victory, as he takes my earlobe into his mouth, grazing the soft flesh with his bare teeth, almost painfully.
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54 parts Complete Mature
He smiled. The devil himself couldn't have crafted a more wicked grin. "What do you say we play a game, little Reaper?" I narrowed my eyes, trying to decipher his intentions. "What kind of game?" His grin widened, showing the tips of his fangs. I watched the prince curiously as he strode over to his bag. With a swift motion, he withdrew a bow and a quiver of arrows, flinging them at my feet without so much as a second glance. I furrowed my eyebrows, casting him a look of uncertainty. That sinister grin stayed plastered upon his lips as he said, "Run." *** I, Skyla Ashforth, am what some might call a "sociopath." It was a title that fit. Why shouldn't I embrace it? I am a vampire slayer, a Reaper of bloodsuckers, and an exceptionally good one, if I do say so myself. Yes, being a sociopath has its perks; I could manipulate and deceive with the best of them. So, when captured by the notorious Red Prince, I embraced the challenge of manipulating my freedom. Pierce Darcee, was a sadistic vampire with a God complex. The fool actually believed he could break me. Little did he know, I was the kind of Reaper who would dance through a battlefield, whistling a merry tune as I twirled my braids. I relished the challenge of manipulating his oversized ego, planning to stab that rotting, blackened heart of his with a venom-laced dagger. I crafted a scheme so delightful, so intricate, that I couldn't help but salivate at the prospect of victory. It was foolproof, or so my mind believed. But then... then there was that pull. That unexpected, unwelcome spark that ignited something within me. Feelings, of all things! Now, that was a complication. Disgusting, messy feelings that could very well lead to my destruction. Or his. It was a dangerous game we played, but then again, the most thrilling ones usually are. *Rated M for Murder, Mayhem, and some profanity. Sorry but no smutty interludes. You've stumbled into a blood bath, not a bodice ripper.*
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Reaping The Red Heir cover
𝙇𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙮 𝙫𝙤𝙞𝙘𝙚 |18+| cover
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Tempting Jocelyn cover

Reaping The Red Heir

54 parts Complete Mature

He smiled. The devil himself couldn't have crafted a more wicked grin. "What do you say we play a game, little Reaper?" I narrowed my eyes, trying to decipher his intentions. "What kind of game?" His grin widened, showing the tips of his fangs. I watched the prince curiously as he strode over to his bag. With a swift motion, he withdrew a bow and a quiver of arrows, flinging them at my feet without so much as a second glance. I furrowed my eyebrows, casting him a look of uncertainty. That sinister grin stayed plastered upon his lips as he said, "Run." *** I, Skyla Ashforth, am what some might call a "sociopath." It was a title that fit. Why shouldn't I embrace it? I am a vampire slayer, a Reaper of bloodsuckers, and an exceptionally good one, if I do say so myself. Yes, being a sociopath has its perks; I could manipulate and deceive with the best of them. So, when captured by the notorious Red Prince, I embraced the challenge of manipulating my freedom. Pierce Darcee, was a sadistic vampire with a God complex. The fool actually believed he could break me. Little did he know, I was the kind of Reaper who would dance through a battlefield, whistling a merry tune as I twirled my braids. I relished the challenge of manipulating his oversized ego, planning to stab that rotting, blackened heart of his with a venom-laced dagger. I crafted a scheme so delightful, so intricate, that I couldn't help but salivate at the prospect of victory. It was foolproof, or so my mind believed. But then... then there was that pull. That unexpected, unwelcome spark that ignited something within me. Feelings, of all things! Now, that was a complication. Disgusting, messy feelings that could very well lead to my destruction. Or his. It was a dangerous game we played, but then again, the most thrilling ones usually are. *Rated M for Murder, Mayhem, and some profanity. Sorry but no smutty interludes. You've stumbled into a blood bath, not a bodice ripper.*