Painting the Roses Red (Sexual Offenderman Fanfic) [Starting Over]

Talk To Me

The woman sat on the bed with a broken resolve, her eyes red from crying as she held the blanket across her naked chest, his lips drawing closer with a heat that the woman could not describe, his arms and knees dipping into the bed as he crawled over her covered form.

For a second, her eyes showed a hint of hesitation, shyness suggesting her true nature of innocence, of unwarranted purity. The last time the woman had felt a man's touch in such a way was many years ago, nine months before her daughter was born. That was the first time she'd ever been touched by a man, a man she had grown to love and forget. And even after such a long time, the woman could still recall the heat that pooled between her legs as his lips pressed firmly against her, drawing a low breath from the woman.

A low chuckle reverberated through the room.

"... Is this your first time?" The faceless man knowingly purred against her lips, sending a thousand needles down her back, causing her to shiver with self conscious heat. But she shook her head, answering him honestly.

She wasn't a virgin. Though right now, she felt that she was. This was the first time she'd exposed herself to a complete stranger, a murderer, a man without the possession of eyes. If she had been in this situation before today, she would have ran away, mentally screaming at herself for being such a coward. But what made her stay was probably stupid, as well as a little crazy. This was the first time she felt so uncontrollably hot, the beating of her heart seeming almost unnatural as she held the blanket across her form protectively. This was the first time she felt as if someone's attention was fixed on her solely. And this was the first time since her daughter's death that she felt needed, important.

"Then show yourself to me..." The man growled lowly, his voice vibrating against the back of his throat. His pale fingers brushed against her waist lovingly, pulling her closer as her breath hitched, her fear and resolve melting from his touch.

"Your delicious curves," he began, ushering her closer. He dipped his head to ghost his flesh against the bend of her shoulder, his chest rumbling hungrily. "The pleasant tremors that come with each peak." His lips encasing around her in a soft kiss before his hands ventured to the line of her back, slowly pushing her to lay down. "The dips along your soft, warm flesh."

The woman fell against the bed as her hands were taken gently, the white tendrils spilling from his back snaking around her wrists. His words were echoing in the woman's mind, his form looming over her. The dark shadows that appeared behind him almost terrified her, but in the most pleasant way possible.

This was it. This was how she was going to die.

Shakily letting out a breath, the woman slowly closed her eyes, her lashes fanning out against her cheeks.

She was ready.

The faceless man slowly dropped his hands to her hips, his tendrils forcefully opening her hands so that she could let go of her thin shield, the sheets falling from her chest to her lap. And once he saw her untouched fleshed, the very essence of vulnerability, his lower body aligned with hers as a grin ripped his lips apart.

"I want to feel you."

-----

"YOU KNOW WHAT?! THAT GUY IS A DICK! LIKE... LITERALLY!"

I cringed as my best friend slammed his drink against the bar table, a few glances full of annoyance turning our way. Though he was a great friend of mine, he still had a habit of attracting negativity with his behavior.