Yes.
No!
Oh, my God.
His words were invitations to my destruction, beckoning closer with every word.
My heartbeat thundered harder, feeding the drug into every part of me.
“That’s it. Let go. Forget about the past and future. Think about how good my cock would feel. How delicious it would be for me to fuck you right here.”
Fuck.
Sex.
Mate.
God...
I squeezed my eyes, swirling down a rabbit hole of fanaticism.
His fingers licked through my hair, blazing with lust and horror. “You want me, Nila. Admit it.”
My soul turned wild, snarling at the power of the drug.
The fire burned brighter.
The stars twinkled faster.
The dancers twirled harder.
The world twisted and turned, rushing quickly then slowing down as the hallucinogenic played havoc with my senses.
I lost track of time.
I lost track of myself.
My mind swam with images of the dark dripping walls of the mine. My hands locked and squeezed, smearing my blood over Jethro's initials, wanting nothing more than to touch myself and orgasm.
I need to come.
I need to fuck and love and consummate.
I was a black and white painting, an enigma, a shivering contradiction.
I was numb.
I was alive.
I was dead.
I was reborn.
What’s happening to me?
I shook my head, fighting the intensity, refusing to become hypnotised by sex and want and music.
But then hands were grabbing mine, tugging me to my feet.
