Death's Obsession

She feels so right in my hands—soaked and trembling. Fuck, she has no idea how much she drives me mad, blind with need. I have craved her for so long that to finally have her is the most otherworldly experience.

“Please,” she whispers.

Being here with her, skin to skin, soul to soul, is invigorating. Last night we were both split in half, partly here and partly in the place where I wanted to worship her. Not true skin to skin, but soul to soul. We felt each other in the way that mattered.

I run my nose along the column of her neck, breathing in deeply. “Your words.”

Her breath catches like it does every time. I slip a finger inside of her and a soft moan leaves her lips that I want to capture and have on repeat forever. Her arms stay locked at her sides while the rest of her melts into me at the smallest touch.

My fingers aren’t enough, I need to feel her whole body quake on my cock as I give her all the pleasure that she deserves.

“Words,” I warn.

She blinks rapidly as I start picking up my momentum. “What—” she hiccups when I thumb her clit, moving in slow circles that draw bliss and agony all over her features. She’s practically riding my hand, and her hypnotic groan makes me add another finger for her to wind herself upon. Her legs shake like she wants to take my fingers deeper as if she needs to be stretched even more than she was last night. “What do you want from me?”

My night monster doesn’t wish to deny me. Does she know that she’s mine already? Has she submitted to me at last?

The curve of her body is pressed so perfectly against mine. Hell could come between us, and I still wouldn’t move.

I massage her heavy breasts as she trembles for more—more of the pleasure that only I can give her. She’s so breathtaking. Vulnerable and needy. Dark brown hair tickles my hand as I mark my claim over her swollen flesh. How have I gone a thousand lifetimes without this pleasure? How have I kept my hands away from her for so long?

“My dear Lilith, I told you already. I want everything.”

I bite the soft skin of her neck and remove myself from her to hide once more, leaving her hunched over and gasping for breath.

I am a selfish lover. I have given her everything she needs without asking, but I will not give her what she wants unless the words come from her pink lips.

She snaps upright, turning furiously as if I’m not standing right in front of her. The floorboards creak as she storms out into the living area, then the kitchen, as if I might be hiding in the pantry.

Leaving her in a state such as this pains me just as much as it pains her. When her pussy pulsed on my fingers as she came, I knew there was nothing else in this world that could compare.

Lilith belongs to me, wholly and completely. And when the day comes that I claim her, every breath that she takes will belong to me.

She crushes the letter in her hand as she whips open one of the drawers to pull out the orange plastic bottle.

My body tenses as I watch her put one of the pills between her teeth, then flush it down with water.

“Soon,” I promise even though she ca

Because soon, Lilith will be all mine.

Chapter six

Lilith

The morning rush at work goes by in a blur. I’ve been trying to escape my own mind by hiding in it, but my brain hasn’t been letting me do it as often as I would have liked. My break eventually comes around, and I find my locker empty except for the shattered pieces of my heart.

It has been five nights since my dream about the Faceless Man. Five days since the last letter that I received from him. Five days since my body has been hung on a string, begging for release that won’t come from my own fingers.

How dare he do that to me? He doesn’t just get to leave me high and dry like that. He’s been toying with me for so long, but bringing me to the brink of an orgasm, and then just leaving me? God, what does that say about me when I haven’t been this mad about the stalking or the letters, yet not letting me come is the thing that has me tossing and turning for five nights straight.

I keep wondering if I imagined the whole thing. I mean, he was there one second and gone the next. The na

I used to think that he was a ghost. For a solid two months, I dedicated my time, scouring the internet about getting rid of ghosts. He can get in and out of anywhere without being noticed, disappear into thin air, and it just so happens that only I can see him. I even wore a safety pin at all times because, apparently, it would prick any spirit that tried to touch me. Either his spirit is a masochist or the safety pin was another useless attempt.

I’m not the superstitious type, but I admit, at one point my apartment reeked of garlic before I realized that it was meant to be for vampires. Evan complained about the smell for weeks. After some research I spent my meager funds on sage. The next day the faceless asshole left me three bundles of the herb with a note saying, “Try again.”

I’ve crossed off—though not completely—imaginary friends. Because imaginary friends don’t leave a grand of cash in my handbag or restock my cupboard with food. I had checked, it wasn’t Evan who did it. This leads me to two assumptions: he’s a really talented human, or… No, that’s even less realistic.

Somewhere deep down, I know it wasn’t a dream. Not completely, at least. I couldn’t sit or walk properly that entire day, and I spent the entire time feeling both thoroughly fucked and not fucked enough.

He said that he has tasted me. How would it be possible for it to be anything other than a dream? How else would he have tasted me like he’s claimed? Usually, if Evan so much as turns in his sleep, I wake up. The Faceless Man had been leaving temporary marks on me for a year, never something as permanent as a handprint, bruises, or even a necklace, and I never woke from his ministrations.

But if it weren’t a dream and he was with me, why hasn’t he reached out to me since that night? I’ve heard and received absolutely nothing from him. I haven’t even seen him in any reflection. He’s never left me alone for this long before, and I can’t help the pain that has been ballooning in my heart. I’ve been checking my locker as soon as I get to work. I’ve even been pulling out my bed every morning to see if a letter dropped behind it. The Faceless Man doesn’t want me anymore, maybe he never did. He was just bored and I was easy prey.

Without his letters and little reminders that he exists, I feel the loneliness, ripe and raw. There’s a Faceless Man-sized hole in my heart now.

He’s left me, and it hurts. He didn’t even say goodbye.

All he left behind are patches of violet and green that will eventually fade back into porcelain skin. As if that wasn't enough, he left without saying anything; the last thing he did was leave cash in my purse like I'm some kind of whore.

I bought today’s lunch with the Faceless Man’s money. Everything I’ve eaten that was paid with his money has left a sour taste in my mouth and a hollow ache in my chest. Still, I sit at the fold-out table in the break room, on second hand plastic chairs with one of the local school’s insignia on it, and I nibble on the food in the hope that it might fill me completely.

I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, brushing the earring I put on this morning to match the necklace. I even put on more makeup than usual so that I might catch his attention or find a letter or even a text that says that he hasn’t forgotten about me.

Brit walks into the backroom with an almost i

“Hey, Lili,” she starts.

I smile blankly at her, hoping that she reads the room and sees that I want to be left alone. But she has her manager-face on, and that’s never a good sign. The last time she looked at me like that, she dropped my hours for two weeks while they were restructuring.