#⠀⠀❀⠀⠀⨾⠀⠀to，@luvuxa | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amaranthine-enihtnarama · 11 days ago

Text

ᴴⁱˢ ᴹᵘˢᵉ.

Summary: Charlotte, a talented harpist, attracts Remmick with her music. Against her better judgement, she explores the new frontiers of her desire.

Warnings -> Mentions of the Klan, p in v s3x, oral (f! receiving), oral (m! receiving), doggystyle, cum play, spit play, breath play, blood play, creampie, corruption kink, dom!Remmick, miss girl cannot handle a touch-starved freak like him pray for that cooch mama, not proofread because i'm perfect

A/N: I've become aware that another user has a Sinners OC named Lottie as well--this is a pure coincidence and this story has no association with their character (which I love, by the way!). Truly a sign I need to write faster, though.

Word Count: 10.8k

Lottie had been cooped up inside for weeks when Mama heard of what happened at the Juke Joint a couple towns over. She didn’t go anywhere without her brothers then—although it wasn’t like they didn’t hover before— they stuck to her sides like gnats in a flytrap. It didn’t make any sense to her, why her Mama kept such close watch over her, even though she’d always spin endless reasons why:

“You too pretty, them boys ain’t gon’ act right!”

“You sure as hell ain’t goin’ out with them little fast girls—ain’t bringing back no babies under my roof…”

“You ain’t gone waste your smarts talking to them good-for-nuthin’ boys. You got music to practice fa’ Sunday.”

And on, and on, and on.

It had been summer, too—usually Papa could get his wife to see sense, let the kids go into town under his watchful eye, but the summer after the Juke Joint was different.

Everything after that night was different.

People talked to each other—mothers and aunties, of course, but even the men—pondering their troubles about what they’d heard or what so-and-so might’ve seen under feverish, urgent whisper. Maybe it was from the Klansmen one of the Smokestack twins had killed. Vengeful white men put trouble in the air that reached across sky and land, choking everything in its path. But the white men never came.

Not any new ones, anyhow. Besides, white folks loved Lottie and her Mama—she worked in one of those white men’s houses, and the wife loved having Lottie and her harp traverse the dirt roads into town to sing through their halls. She grew a little famous, even, putting on mini-concerts of Fauré and Debussy for living rooms full of white women, while their patient husbands smoked cigars over brandy in the other room. They would watch her slight, dark hands nimbly dance over the strings with their flutes of champagne on holidays, eyes damn near full of tears—or that’s what her Mama told her, at least.

White folks loved Lottie and her Mama so much the wife hosted her for music lessons on her dime. From twelve to eighteen, she would hitch a ride in someone’s car to meet with Mrs. Desjardins, who was too severe to marvel at her, but too impressed to not impart a compliment.

“You could go somewhere with a gift like that, Charlotte,” she would tell her, “Not too many of you get such a chance.”

But Lottie didn’t think of chances that summer. She heard whispers under the adults’ breath, felt the tension in the air when she played for her church on Sundays, could practically taste the sweat and alcohol and hear the screams echoing out into the unyielding darkness in her dreams.

“I hear there ain’t even no bodies. Just blood and burnt dirt. I tell you, it’s the devil’s work.”

“I ain’t takin no chances with me or my children, Esther,” her mother said, voice hushed, “I mean, how a whole juke joint of folks just up and disappear like that? Just some ashes and some cars. How we know we ain’t next?”

It made Lottie wonder, especially at the worst times when she was the only one awake with the stillness of night to keep her company. She would listen to the crickets and cicadas and feel her heart pound in her chest as sweat trickled down her temples. How could all those people disappear? What was out there, in the darkness, waiting for them?

The thought would make her draw the blinds, trying the get the images of haunts out of her mind so she wouldn’t scare herself to death, but the silence made it worse, pressing down on her mind like the Delta heat.

So, she played.

Softly, so as not to wake anyone else up, especially her brothers, who were already sick of the sight of the thing, always grumbling about having to carry it in and out of the house. No, no, not too loud.

Just soft enough for her to hear. To soothe her nerves. Rêverie did the trick.

Something in the air changed when she played, something she could feel. The night wasn’t so mysterious and vast anymore, full of blood-hungry Klansmen or ghosts and haints. There was no more fear. She could close her eyes, imagine an audience, and play.

She didn’t know the power her playing had, to move people, to heal, to bring God down in the room with you. But she felt Him at night, Him and His angels answering her call, to watch over her and her family through the night.

She didn’t know that one day, the night would answer her call, too.

Years passed, and fear was forgotten for happier times. Lottie managed to pick up piano and become a music teacher. She grew into a woman, too tall and full of curves to be welcomed into a white man’s house by his wife, but received fifty dollars every two months from Mrs. Desjardins, who had her mind set on sending her East. There wasn’t much work for a colored music teacher, but the women she used to play for had begun to hire her for proper gigs. After putting her money together, she’d finally saved enough for a home of her own.

It was a rotting shack at first, but her father and brothers made it up into a proper place to live. Soon enough, talk made it through town of the colored woman music teacher living by the edge of the woods, just outside of town, and gifts poured in to decorate her home. Quilts, drapes, a tablecloth—all mended together by hand by church women. (A shotgun, from her father. A pistol from Freddie, her old schoolmate.)

“Now, all you need is a husband,” her mother told her, “And I won’t have to worry bout nothing no more.”

Lottie laughed at the remark. “Nothing ‘cept some grandbabies making your house a mess.”

Now, she was twenty-three. Too old to be scared of the dark, too busy with students to practice during the day. She practiced her harp late into the night now for work, sitting with God all the while, her fingertips callousing with hours spent perched at her instrument, squinting in the oil-lamp light.

That was when he found her.

It was summer. Too hot to keep the blinds drawn when she desperately needed to let fresh air in, so she’d put screens over the windows and cracked them open. She was working on Vers la source dans le bois, too absorbed in her practice to catch the glimmers of reflective pupils in the trees. Her playing sang into the shadows as her fingers danced over the strings. The music fell onto her ears like rain, drowning out the sweat rolling down her neck, the way her mouth dried with thirst, even the cicadas. Her brows knit in focus and effort as she gracefully traveled back and forth over the strings, her head cocked ever-so-slightly despite her rigid posture, her eyes darting briefly over to the sheet music to check her tempo.

“Ow!”

She winced as her finger slipped, nicking on the string. She stopped abruptly, sucking on her fingertip, then pressing it onto her thigh through her cotton nightgown. Slowly, with a groan, she stretched out her back, then rolled her neck and massaged her hands. She looked around her home as if for the first time, snapped out of her trance.

That was when she heard it: the silence.

It hadn’t just been her playing drowning out the cicadas; they had gone dead quiet in a way that made her stomach drop. She stood quickly, brows drawn again as she swallowed. Her eyes scanned the dimly lit room, then peered out of the windows. On the left, there was nothing, just vast expanse under the moonlight. But…on the right…

Lottie was too grown to be scared of the woods, she knew it, but they didn’t sit right with her the moment she saw them. Trouble was, this house was the only one she could afford while still saving money, so she put on her big girl boots and dealt with it. But now, as her skin crawled under the silence, she regretted her choice.

Quickly, she slammed her left window shut and drew the blinds, unwilling to look out the right. She turned out her oil lamp, finding a sense of shelter in the dark, and after grabbing her pistol from the floor right next to her, finally approached the right window.

Her hair stood on her arms.

She could feel it now.

The eyes watching her from the trees.

She couldn’t see a damn thing through that thicket, but she could feel it. It froze her in place. She didn’t want to move closer, not even to close the window.

Don’t stop, the air suddenly whispered. So lovely.

Lottie felt her heart drop down to her stomach as a soft voice carried over the still air. Her heart was beginning to pick up its pace. Surely she imagined it.

Play.

Lottie clicked the safety of her pistol. She most surely didn’t.

She inched carefully toward the window, pulse thrumming in her ears.

“Whoever out there better be ready to get shot,” she warned, the timbre of her voice surprising her.

She didn’t even think she could speak.

Then, they finally appeared: a pair of wolf’s eyes, but too high to be a wolf’s. Her eyes widened as her shoulders tightened. Ain’t no way it was a bear, either.

Something moved in the trees as the eyes came closer, and Lottie’s legs nearly gave as her eyes made out the silhouette of a man. No man’s eyes glowed like that. His voice gently lilted through the window.

“I don’t mean no harm,” he reassured, coming into view.

It was a white man, dark-haired in a button up shirt and suspenders. Despite what he said, the moonlight carved shadows out of his eye sockets that sent a shiver down her spine. She pointed the gun at the window, making him stop and lift his hands in surrender.

“Just appreciatin’ yer playin’s all.”

She squinted, but couldn’t make out his face.

“What the hell a white boy doin’ in the forest this time of night if he ain’t looking for trouble?”

“Ah,” he remarked, a chuckle making his shoulders shake for a moment, “I suppose it is strange on my part, but I happen to live around here.”

“I ain’t never seen you.”

“Nor I you, till tonight.”

He came closer to the window, and Lottie turned her oil lamp back on to see his face instead of the silhouette that made her blood run cold. His features were handsome, but it didn’t put her at ease. He smiled as if it did.

“I happen to play myself,” he continued, revealing a banjo strapped to his torso, “Though not half as pretty as you.”

His eyes fixed onto her in a way that set her teeth on edge.

“I don’t think I’ve heard a harp in ages,” he said, “How’d you come across such a fine piece?”

She frowned, unsure if she should shoot the strange white man or humor him. If he was a man—the glowing of his eyes was still fresh in her mind. He lowered his hands, resting them on his banjo and beginning to pick a melody.

“My name’s Remmick,” he said, “What’s yours, darlin’?”

“Don’t call me darlin’,” she quickly replied.

He rose his eyebrows, smile still playing on his lips. Slowly, she clicked the safety back on and set her pistol down in the chair.

“Charlotte.”

He stopped playing, frowning. “Not Lottie?”

She groaned in discomfort, quickly running up the window and shutting it. His face fell as if in hurt. With a swallow, she drew the blinds and turned down her oil lamp, hugging her knees in her bed.

Remmick started playing again, lingering outside the window. His voice came through the glass.

“Was it something I said, darlin’?”

She bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut, willing the stranger away.

“Oh, come now, don’t be so scary,” he teased, “I promise I don’t mean ya any harm. Just heard talk of ya, that’s all. Wanted to hear ya play for myself.”

She stayed on the bed, her knees slipping against her sweaty arms. He played the melody a few more times, then suddenly fell silent. Then his voice sounded closer to the window.

“I know you’re not sleeping in there,” he said, “Not in this heat.”

Lottie stared at the curtains with her heart in her throat.

“Whatchu want with me? Get on outta here,” she said, her voice faltering, “I ain’t got no business with your kind—whatever it is.”

Another chuckle. “Just trying to be neighborly. But if you insist—“

“I do.”

“‘Til next time, darlin’.”

She listened to his playing fade away into the night, and let out a sigh of relief as the sound of cicadas returned.

Lottie barely made it through the day in one piece without a lick of sleep. She couldn’t have after the strange man from the woods. Even after an hour had passed, she half expected to hear him coming back to play his melody again and linger outside her window. She laid still in her bed, sweating through her nightgown, until the sun rose.

Under the protection of the sun, she felt less worried about running into him again, but a pit formed in her stomach as dusk came and went.

She locked up her doors and windows, and began to play. Same piece, same practice, but she couldn’t focus, not in this heat. With a sigh, she sat at the harp in silence, wiping her face and neck off with a cool towel.

Then, a tink.

She tensed at the sound coming from her right window, and sat alert.

Tink.

She frowned. Were those…pebbles?

Tink. Tink.

Slowly, Lottie rose from her seat and peeked through the blinds. The moon was bright tonight, so she could make him out easier. He was between the forest and her window, tossing pebbles at the glass. She squinted.

“Boy, what the hell…”

The light of her oil lamp peeked through her curtains, and he stopped tossing the little rocks, walking up to the window and gently tapping on the glass, puckering out his lower lip in mock sadness. She made a face, wiping her forehead again with her towel. Might as well see what the cracker wants this time.

She pulled one of the curtains open, peering at him cautiously. She unlocked the window and cracked it open. She welcomed the slightly cooler air on her skin.

“I ain’t playing tonight,” she said, “Too hot.”

“Oh, you’re breakin’ my heart, lass.”

“Mhm.”

“I s’pose it’s enough just to see your pretty face, though,” he said, devious smile evident in his voice.

She sucked her teeth, turning away from the window.

“You a fool, ain’t ya?”

“Hardly,” he replied, “I’m just too much a gentleman to say it the first time I met you. Playin’ that harp, you look just like an angel.”

The breeze blew the curtains apart gently, and Remmick leaned against the windowsill, grinning as he cocked his head, his gaze meandering her figure as she turned back around, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Doubt you know much about angels, whatever you is.”

“Enough to recognize one in front o’ me, sweetheart.”

She sighed, wiping her neck and chest as she collapsed in her chair.

“It’s too hot for all that nonsense, quit it. Whatchu doin’ back here, anyway? I told you I ain’t want nothing to do with you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t mean that,” he said, placing a hand on his chest, “I just gave you a little scare, that’s all.”

She didn’t answer. She rose from her seat, taking her towel to the washbin and swishing it around. She wrung it out and wiped her brow, pressing it against the back of her neck for some cool.

“Don’t leave me lonely over here, Charlotte,” his voice called out into the house, daring to sound wounded, “I only mean to be your friend. Little ladies like you shouldn’t be all alone in the night, sitting in the dark, without any friends.”

“Some friend, leering through my window like you do,” she said as she eased herself back into her seat, eyes shut.

“Well, you could always let me inside,” he suggested, no, offered, “Keep ya company through the night.”

Her head snapped over to him, eyes sharp. He smiled at her. She swallowed, looking at his mouth—his…his teeth. They were sharp and glimmering white like a beast’s. She shivered slightly despite having to wipe sweat from her neck again.

“What kinda monster are you anyhow, can’t make his own way into a little lady’s house?”

His teeth glistened in the lamplight. “I told ya I was a gentleman, ain’t gonna force my way in.”

“Can’t get no way in is more like it,” she dismissed, taking a small music program and starting to fan herself with it. She regarded him cautiously.

“I reckon you’d eat me whole if you got in here.”

He laughed softly, a low rumble in his chest that vibrated all the way to her bones.

“All the way up, sugar.”

Suddenly Lottie felt a bit too naked in the thin little nightgown stuck to her skin. She perched slightly in her chair, holding his gaze as he leaned closer to the window, eyes catching a red glow.

“Ain’t seen nothing as sweet as you.”

She pressed her knees together awkwardly, looking away.

“That ain’t no way to talk to nobody. I hardly know you.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, gaze pressing through the fabric, “I’ll fix that soon enough.”

In an instant, he was gone. The vice grip around her heart loosened as she took a deep, gasping breath. With a trembling exhale, she closed the window and shut the curtains.

Another sleepless night passed.

“Where you from, anyway?”

Remmick watched her lithe hands strum through the strings of the harp with a pleased smile on his face. Her pulse was racing, he could hear it, but her hands remained steady. His gaze skimmed the slight curve of her back, the fine muscles working in her slender forearms as she plucked through scales. Then she stopped and looked at him.

“You ain’t from round here.”

“I’m from somewhere long lost, darlin’. Nothing you’d know.”

“Europe, I reckon.”

He grinned, but his focus was on her hands.

“Play something, won’t you? Came all this way just to hear you play.”

The heat had lifted a little tonight, prompting Lottie to cover up a bit with a shawl. She adjusted it over her shoulders with a small bow of her head, then went back to passively strumming the strings.

“Whatchu wanna hear?”

“Somethin’ sweet like you.”

He earned a modest smile from her lips as she shook her head.

“ ‘Spose I can do that.”

She took a deep breath, lifted her arms like a dancer’s, hovering them around the strings. She paused to think, then shut her eyes with a purse of her lips.

“I learned this one a while back,” she said softly. “This here’s Tournier.”

Remmick watched in fascination as her fingers began to work the strings in earnest. The melody started soft, but grew to a resonant level under her hands. The sound was cool and soft, lapping at his ears like the gentle caress of a flowing river. He shut his eyes. The Mississippi heat became a memory as visions of a time long passed flashed in fragments behind his eyes. He could see it, taste it even, the rolling green hills of his homeland, the salt of the crashing sea.

The song only lasted a few minutes. He stood still as she masterfully softened the sound again, gently pulling him from his dream as the music concluded. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Lottie cleared her throat, resting her hands on her knees.

“Well, what’d you think?”

His face had softened. He stared at her hands, then looked up at her face. Where her wide brown eyes watched him curiously.

“You’re a precious thing, Lottie,” he told her, voice soft as silk.

She fidgeted with her shawl again, looking down shyly.

“That’s a mighty fine compliment.”

He smiled slightly, still in a daze from what her playing had conjured.

“Might I listen again from the porch?”

She hesitated, but nodded. He disappeared from the window without a sound. Willing herself to stand, she went to the door, bringing the lamp with her. His weight creaked the floorboards, and she slowly wrapped her hand around the knob, almost too nervous to open the door.

“You promise you can’t come in?”

“Not unless you let me.”

For a moment, her body fought her. She rested her forehead against the wood, her breath trembling. He waited patiently on the other side. She could feel him there.

“I promise I don’t mean you no harm,” he assured her.

After a moment of stillness, the locks clicked and the door slowly creaked open. Lottie peeked out from the other side, eyes both curious and weary. She wasn’t sure what good a devil’s promise was, but his voice sounded different. Gentler. She opened the door wider, turning her lamp up so she could see him better.

Up close, he wasn’t half as scary. More beautiful if anything. The warm light kissed his pale skin lovingly, caressing the manly curve of his jaw, the soft blue of his eyes. He looked more like a man than she had imagined possible. She shifted onto one hip, looking down at her feet.

“My, you’re lovely,” he said to her, slowly leaning against the doorframe, “Swear I ain’t ever seen nothing as lovely as you.”

He’d been around too long for that to be true. She slowly met his gaze again through the screen door. He smirked.

“What’s the matter? Man ain’t never told you how lovely you are?”

No man ever came near Lottie. Everyone was too afraid of her Papa to even think of speaking to her in an inappropriate matter. All the boys in town knew he’d come with a shotgun if her Mama caught sight of them looking at her the wrong way. Her brothers grew up big, too, and kept watch like dogs guarding sheep. She used to long for one of them to come in the night, take a chance when the men were fast asleep and her harp sang out the window softly, but they never did. Maybe that’s why Remmick had appeared. Maybe she’d still been calling into the night without realizing it.

His eyes glinted. “Man ain’t never taken care of you?”

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise, and she stepped back.

“That ain’t a proper thing to ask.”

“I asked you nicely, didn’t I?”

“Whatchu asking for in the first place,” she hissed back.

His gaze dragged over her face as if he was learning every inch, and he languidly caressed the screen door with the back of his knuckles.

“I’m just tryna figure out what I’ll give you in return for your lovely music. I’m a real generous man, y’know.”

She rose her eyebrows, unamused. “Is that right?”

“Right it is.”

She rolled her eyes and fanned her neck with her shawl. Remmick leaned closer, inhaling her scent. He hummed, hiding his hand behind his back and clenching it into a fist. He could taste it, the sweat on her skin, that slight fruity scent that clung to it.

“You droolin’?”

He quickly wiped his mouth, chuckling a little.

“Look at that,” he remarked.

She eyed him suspiciously. “You tryin’ to eat me?”

He laughed, stepping back from the door. “No, no, I won’t eat ya. Might keep ya, but won’t eat ya.”

She swallowed, frowning at his words. “I think it’s time you went on, Remmick.”

His smile lingered on his lips as he rubbed his lower one with his thumb. He studied her a bit longer, a white silhouette in the doorframe, then descended the steps of her porch.

“You’ll see when I come in,” he said, “It’s not too bad, being kept.”

She turned off her lamp and locked the door. She listened to him play his melody into the night, shutting her eyes with a sigh.

Lottie didn’t know how to feel about it. Being kept. The word echoed in her mind as she watched unsure hands stumble over piano keys inside the chapel, and it made her feel guilty—she couldn’t pinpoint why. The dry air was like sandpaper against her throat as she smiled and gave an encouraging nod to the young boy who glanced up at her in question between measures.

“You’re doin’ just fine, Joe,” she told him.

The boy stopped abruptly and rubbed his hands, wincing. Lottie peered down at him curiously.

“I’ve been playin’ thirty minutes straight, Miss Lottie,” he complained, “Can we take a break?”

Lottie’s heart stopped. Had the time passed that quickly? Why hadn’t she noticed? All she’d been thinking about was…

She blinked rapidly and cleared her throat, cheeks burning in shame. Him, she realized. She’d been thinking of him. His strange sounding voice, his slender fingers grazing the screen door, the slight scent of sweat that clung to his skin, the way he’d looked at her.

She smoothed a hand over her hair. “Of course.”

The boy eyed her strangely. “You alright, Miss Lottie?”

Lottie laughed breathlessly. “What makes you say that, Lil’ Joe? ‘Course I’m alright.”

He shrugged, massaging his wrists. Lottie’s mind cleared, and she considered his hands again with newfound perception.

“Play that last part for me again, will you?”

He gave her a rueful look, but obliged. She quickly stopped him before the first note rang out and circled her fingers around his wrists, lifting them slightly then correcting the arch of his hands.

“You gotta hold them like this, okay? Like you’re holding a small baseball.”

“But that hurts worse!”

She tapped his elbows correctively so he’d lift them, then nodded for him to play.

“I can’t, Miss Lottie,” he complained.

With a smile, she lifted her hands to the keys to demonstrate the correct posture.

“Okay, then watch me. I’ll go slow.”

She was about to start playing when the wooden door creaked open, breaking her focus and making her stomach jump in shock. Joe’s father’s eyes widened in surprise, then crinkled as he smiled.

“Didn’t mean to give you a scare, Miss Lottie,” he apologized, taking off his hat as he stepped in, “Just came to get my boy.”

She frowned, checking her watch in confusion. They had about fifteen minutes left.

“We off to visit my mama today, she’s a town over,” he explained, lingering by the doors.

Joe jumped up from the piano bench as Lottie slowly rose, gently closing the piano and gathering up the music from the stand. She watched the young boy ran up to his father and embraced his legs with a smile, following behind him. His father grinned, gathering him up in his arms and resting the boy on his hip, putting his fedora on his son's head. He looked to Lottie warmly.

"Where you headed, Miss Lottie?"

Lottie clutched her music to her chest. "Oh, I don't know, Charlie. Maybe into town, get me something to drink."

She just knew she couldn't go home. Not when Remmick's presence had imprinted itself onto the doorway. She needed a clear head, even for a moment, even if it required corn liquor and muggy, dark rooms.

Charlie flashed a charming smile at her. "Well, we'll walk you there."

Lottie smiled and looked down as Charles offered her passage out of the chapel and closed the door behind them, careful of his son as he went through the doorway. It was high noon—the sun was beaming down with a vengeance today, hotter than usual, with no breeze to grant a reprieve. Charlie and Lottie's feet moved in sync as they walked down the dirt road, squinting under the sun and stealing glances at each other, offering one another polite, fleeting smiles.

"How's work treatin' you," Charlie asked, brown eyes blinking through the sunlight to look at her face. "You seem mighty tired."

Lottie nodded, rubbing her sweaty neck and wiping it off on her dress. She glanced over at Joe pulling Charlie's hat over his eyes to shield them from the sun, and smiled again.

"Work's treatin' me just fine. It's when I'm home the trouble starts."

Charlie's eyebrows rose from their low knit, and he stopped walking, letting Joe down. Joe scampered on ahead, hat bouncing. Charlie eyed Lottie with concern, stepping closer to her in one stride as they started to walk again.

"Ain't a man, givin' you trouble, is it?"

Lottie chuckled. "No, my brothers would've handled any man quite easily."

Charlie hummed, then hesitated. "A woman?"

Lottie gasped, slapping Charlie's arm with her music sheets. "Charlie!"

He let out a deep laugh smooth as molasses, dark forehead glistening in the sun. He stuck his hands in his pockets, cocking his head playfully with a shrug.

"Just askin'."

"Dog," she shot back, a smile playing on her lips. "Bet you'd like that just fine, wouldn't you?"

Charlie squinted at the sky, devilish smile playing on his lips. "Well..."

Lottie shook her head with a chuckle. "You a damn dog. God knows what you teachin' Lil' Joe."

"Aw, no, now, Miss Lottie," he said, "Joe's a good boy. Gonna go to Chicago one day, just like you."

He flashed another brilliant smile, and Lottie was helpless to do anything but be soaked in its radiance. She met his eyes with a small smile of her own, and their gazes lingered on each other for a moment before breaking and focusing on the road ahead. Joe was looking at them curiously, clearly waiting for the slow old people to hurry on up. They picked up their pace accordingly.

"But really, Miss Lottie," Charlie began, eyes focused on his son through the rippling air. "You alright?"

Lottie sighed. That seemed to be everyone's favorite question lately. Her mother, her brothers, Lil' Joe, and now his father. It was only this time, though, that she felt she could answer honestly.

"Somethin's been heavy on my mind," she admitted. "Something...strange."

Charlie nodded, eyes wandering in thought. "What kinda strange?"

Lottie fell quiet, unsure how to begin. How could she explain to Charlie the strange feelings swirling inside her about her dark visitor with the gleaming fangs and beautiful blue eyes? About how he purred, how he smiled, how he always kept coming back despite her attempts to push him off? How could she tell him how it made her feel, for the first time, alive in a way only her music could?

She swallowed, frowning, then abruptly asked--

"What does it mean for a man to keep a woman?"

Charlie paused, taken aback and thoroughly amused. "Thought you said it wasn't a man."

It wasn't, she thought to herself. More animal than man. More creature than human. She quietly fumbled with the worn edges of her music pages, pursing her lips.

"Will you tell me, or not?"

Charlie laughed, then sucked in a deep breath, broad chest puffing up under his overalls and dirtied button-up. He reached for his hat to rub the brim, then remembered it was gone. Awkwardly, he wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve.

"Well, Miss Lottie...it means a man's found something real special. Something he can't share with nobody. Something that's...that's got to be all his or he'll go mad."

He stared at Lottie's profile thoughtfully, then cleared his throat and looked away when her eyes slid over to his in question.

"At least, that's what I'd say it means."

Lottie frowned at her shoes in thought, turning the information over in her head. Charlie stole a couple glances at her, then finally spoke again.

"Man want to keep you, Miss Lottie?"

Remmick's soft gaze flashed in her mind, making her breath catch in her throat. Charlie noticed this and tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

"Lottie," he said gently, "If a man's botherin' you, all you need to do is say the word and I'm there."

She blinked away the image of Remmick's face, gripping her music pages tightly. Lottie let out an exhale, then gave Charlie a small smile.

"Nothing's wrong, Charlie," she assured him, "I promise. I'd tell you if there was."

She knew not to, but she let him look at her.

She’d play for him, then she’d leave the door open like she ain’t had no sense, and let him linger there, eyes glowing red in the dark as she smoked a cigarette in her bed, knees drawn, her nightgown pooling at her hips. Her chest and thighs sparkled with sweat in the faint lamplight, and she could feel his eyes grazing her bare skin.

She didn’t know why, but something was being drawn out of her by him. Something that liked to be watched. Seen.

She’d look at those glowing embers in the dark and feel some kind of charge build under her skin, a new kind of heat that made the muggy air unbearable. She’d stretch and wriggle slightly in her bed, staring back at them, exhaling smoke as he watched her from the doorway.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re trying to tempt me,” he said to her.

She chuckled to herself, sitting up and grabbing her carton of cigarettes.

“Can devils be tempted, Remmick?”

She took a lighter between her fingers and went over to the door.

“They just as helpless as any ol’ man?”

She opened the screen door slightly, and he pressed himself through the crack, opening it fully. She leaned slightly against the door, blowing cigarette smoke into his face.

“You know what you’re doing, little lady,” he questioned.

She pulled a cigarette from the carton, twirling it between her fingers. She lifted it to his lips, smiling wryly.

“Want one?”

“I take it you don’t.”

“What am I doing, then?”

“You’re playing a game you’re set to lose.”

“I thought you’d love a game,” she said softly.

She gestured for him to come closer, and he did. She placed the cigarette in his lips, then leaned forward to light it with hers, her head peeking out of the doorframe. He inhaled, his cigarette sparking. The corner of her mouth curved slightly, threatening to send him over the edge. He could see her breasts down her nightgown, and swallowed. She quickly ducked back inside, letting out a heavy breath.

“You still scared of me,” he said, smiling, the cigarette hanging from his lips, “I can smell it.”

She just held his stare, finishing her cigarette.

“What ya scared of?” He put the cigarette out on the doorframe. “Scared I’ll fuck you too good?”

He hadn’t said it yet before that moment. He just teased it with his eyes, the rasp of his voice, the way he caged the doorframe like a hungry animal. She licked her lips, taking a shaky breath.

“Oh, don’t get nervous now, darlin’,” he reprimanded gently, “Not after you got me so excited to give you what you want.”

“I ain’t scared of you.”

He tutted at her, shaking his head. “No one likes a liar, baby.”

She honestly hadn’t thought of it before he said it. Now she could see it clearly in her mind. She stepped closer, her heart pounding in her chest as she threatened to cross her own threshold. She was looking at him proper now, imagining what it could be like to feel a man’s touch, or a not-so-man’s touch, and her fingers crept across the doorframe.

“I’m happy to give you what you need, Lottie,” he said, “Just gotta be a big girl and say it.”

She drew her eyebrows, finally meeting his gaze.

“C’mon,” he whispered, “You know I’ll take good care o’ ya.”

Before she could regret it, she grabbed him by the collar and sealed her lips against his, pushing up on her toes to stay behind the doorframe. Then, she quickly jumped back, a line of drool stretching and breaking between them. He looked shocked. Shocked she actually did it, kissed him like that. He didn’t take her to be that bold. Just a little neglected, wanting to toy with him.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly. It was like watching a foal learn to walk. She stepped carefully near him again, her hands trembling.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” she admitted, “But I ain’t never wanted a man much as I want you.”

“I ain’t no man, darlin’,” he said with a grin.

She saw the drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. She leaned forward on her toes again, licking it off. His breath shuddered. She stepped across the doorway, kissing him again, putting his hands on her waist. She nuzzled his neck, taking off his thin suspenders.

“Maybe that’s what I like.”

“Say it,” he told her, “If you’re so big and bad.”

She leaned in to kiss him again but he pulled back, making her weak legs nearly buckle as his glowing eyes peered down at her.

“Come in.”

He smiled.

“Come in and do what?”

His hands palmed the fullness of her ass and squeezed greedily through her nightgown. He could feel her pulse thrumming eagerly as she pressed herself against him, her hips pushing against his.

“Come in an’ fuck me good like you say you can.”

She hooked her fingers into his collar and dragged him in as he kicked the door shut, grabbing the back of her neck and hotly pressing his lips against hers.

“Mm, if you so big and bad,” she breathed into his mouth.

He chuckled and shook his head, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back. She whined softly and grabbed at his shirt, trying to pull him closer. His drool smeared against her neck as he bared his fangs against her skin, pressing them against her pulse, feeling how helplessly she melted against him. He gathered up the skirt of her nightgown and dabbed his chin with his fingers, slid his hands between her legs and groaned, pressing her against the wall.

“You’re a sweet little thing, ain’t ya,” he whispered, fingers rubbing firm circles against her clit. “Tried to show off for me, but you’re just a good girl.”

Her breath fanned against his face as he pressed his forehead against hers, making her hold his stare as he pressed two of his fingers inside her and curled them just right enough to make her eyes fall shut in anguish.

He fell to his knees and pushed her thighs apart, inhaling the smell of her sweat and slick with a growl. He buried his face between her legs without thinking, lapping up her taste greedily before he could remember himself, flicking his tongue against her clit and sucking it until her legs shook too bad for her to stand as she moaned like a sick man. She gripped his hair as her thighs quaked against the sides of his face and clenched as her pussy clamped down on nothing and her body flooded with white hot heat. He groaned into her, only spurred further instead of cooling down.

“Oh god, I can’t—I can’t—“

He held her up by her hips and continued, sealing his mouth over her pussy and circling her clit with his tongue before pushing it inside her. Lottie cried out and grabbed onto nothing desperately, trying not to fall onto his face but gradually sliding lower and lower down the wall as her body melted. Her head was fuzzy and the room was spinning and Remmick only kept going like he was attached to her. Her breath stopped and started as she tugged at her own nightgown and stretched the neck until she came into his mouth with a tortured sob.

She had collapsed on the floor, staring in a daze up at the ceiling as he finally came up from between her legs. His chin and mouth were dripping with sweat and juices. He grinned at her, wiping his face clean and unbuttoning his shirt as she breathed heavily, gently writhing beneath him.

“You’re in for it now, lassie,” he warned, tugging his shirt off, “Sun’s coming up soon, I ain’t goin nowhere, and neither are you, are ya?”

She shook her head slowly, struggling to move. He laughed softly.

“Don’t tell me you’re all tuckered out now, I haven’t even started.”

“No man…ever licked me like that before,” she said under her breath.

“That’s a real shame,” he lamented, shaking his head, lowering himself between her legs again. “Want me to do it again?”

“Yes, please.”

He kissed down her thighs, inhaling deeply, eyes shut as he brushed his nose against her soft skin. He moved slower this time, each kiss getting a slight twitch out of her as it connected, listening to her breath hitch in her chest every time his tickled her pussy. His head dipped low, and Lottie took a deep, heavy breath as he pressed his full tongue against her clit and dragged it up slowly as if he’d already forgotten her taste. The sensation was unbearable, her sensitive nerve endings enveloped by his mouth, velvet tongue sliding up and down and side to side as she pushed into him, her legs pried open by the strength of his hands, her back arching off of the floor.

“Like that?”

“Mmm,” she groaned, sliding her fingers into his dark hair.

His teeth gently scraped against her clit, making her hips buck up in response.

"Attagirl," he whispered.

His tongue danced nimbly against her clit as if he’d already been doing it a lifetime. For all Lottie knew, he had--he was devouring her like a man starved, rough fingertips digging into bruising, soft flesh. She suddenly lurched forward and cried out, nearly sitting up straight before collapsing onto her right elbow and keening against his tongue. The feeling was impossible enough, but the noises...the sounds of slurping and sucking and his feverish, guttural groans against her core sent her over the edge. She could see white out of the corners of her eyes before they rolled back, and her mouth fell open. No sound came from her lips as heat consumed her body like a possession--this must be what it felt like to have some kind of demon take control of your limbs, rip your soul from its throne within your heart. Choked, stuttering breaths broke free from her throat, and she slowly crumbled onto the ground, a tremor rolling down her spine and colliding with Remmick's greedy mouth.

Sweet Jesus.

Her mind was fuzzy for a moment, but he didn't give her one. Before she knew it, he had scooped her up in his arms and threw her over his shoulder, one hand securing her by her ass. Her thighs trembled as she blinked away tears in her eyes that she didn't realize were there. She had barely sucked in any air into her lungs before he tossed her onto the bed, knocking it all out of her chest as she bounced.

Her glassy eyes made out Remmick’s silhouette as he closed the windows and tugged the curtains shut, leaving her in complete darkness. Lottie held her breath again as she waited, listening to him rustle around, kicking off his boots and taking off his pants. She sat up and fumbled around in the dark blindly until she clutched the oil lamp, jumping back at the residual heat, then turned it on with trembling, clammy hands and set it on the chair.

She only saw a flash of pale skin and he was on her. Lottie gasped weakly as his fingers curled painfully into her hair, tugging roughly to keep her eyes on his. Her heart pounded wildly as those small suns pierced into her soul. Her ragged breathing made him smile.

"Now, darlin'," he said, leading them both to her bed with every step, "I'm gonna need you to listen to me. Can you do that?"

She fell into sitting on the bed and found herself met with his cock. It bobbed gently between his thighs, risen to attention, already leaking with precum. It was thick, small veins protruding on the sides, and the sight tortured her—she needed it. He yanked her head upwards to make her eyes focus on his. He tilted his head, smiling.

“Baby, I asked ya a question.”

It was too much to ask of her to speak anymore. Instead, Lottie reached up her back to start to undo the buttons of her nightgown to answer, fingers trembling as they struggled to grab hold of the tiny buttons, spent arm muscles strained in the awkward angle. Remmick watched as the cotton fabric went limp around her chest, exposing her fine clavicle bones, the gentle swell of her breasts, the dainty points of her dark brown nipples. Her breath trembled as she nervously peeled it off, looking up at him for approval, for direction.

His hold in her hair loosened as he stepped closer, grabbing her chin and slowly circling her lips with his thumb. She parted them, and, balling up her nightgown into fists on her thighs, closed her lips around it, letting him ease the pad of his thumb further down her velvet tongue. Her eyes fluttered shut as she took a stuttering breath, knees falling open on their own—much to Remmick’s pleasure. He nudged her chin, making her eyes open. They stared up at him with that same look that drew him in the first night he’d seen her: soft, sweet, lost.

“Don’t take your eyes off mine,” he said, dragging her mouth open with the force of his hand, “Don’t even think of it.”

She shook her head slightly to show her agreement, and he tilted her head further upward, releasing her tongue from his hold.

“I’ll take good care of you, okay? Real good.”

He leaned over her, staring achingly at her open her mouth. She was perfect, already so obedient, waiting on him to do as he pleased. So good.

It was a shame he had to ruin her.

“Gimme yer tongue,” he instructed softly.

Shyly, she obeyed, pink tongue glistening in the lamplight as she stuck it out. Without missing a beat, Remmick’s thumb caressed her jaw as he leaned further down and slowly spit into her mouth. She made a soft, timid sound of surprise, her eyes widening as it trickled to the back of her throat, slimy and alien. She never thought it’d be so easy, but she could feel the spark of desire squeezing her thighs together again.

Straightening up, he hooked his thumb against her teeth and opened her mouth wide, relishing in the confusion that glistened in those brown pools as they remained fixed onto his gaze. He placed his other hand on the crown of her head, positioning her before using it to take hold of his length. His breath shuddered as he teased his tip against her wet, soft lips and watched her gaze soften with desire, begging him to go further. So he did.

He was going to be gentle with her, he’d promised himself. Nothing too harsh, lest he scare her away. But when he felt the way her mouth sucked him in, saw her pretty little lips wrapped around his cock, he couldn’t stop himself. He grabbed the base of her head again and pushed, easing his hips further into her mouth in greedy lust. He sucked in air sharply, brows furrowing as he moved her head—her mouth—slowly along his shaft to ease her into what he was about to do to her despite himself. She moved in sync, a soft moan rumbling at the back of her throat, the vibration barely reaching his head as his breath shattered out of him. His eyes flashed down at her in surprise.

“Careful, lass,” he warned, but she didn’t listen. She flattered her tongue against him instinctively, one of her beautiful, sacred hands reaching up to close around the base of his cock, squeezing him just enough to make his hips jerk forward. “F-Fuck…”

His fingers lifted slightly off of her skin as she eased off of the bed, her nightgown falling and pooling around her knees as they met the wooden floor. Remmick lifted his head slightly, staring down at her in disbelief as she dragged her mouth back along his length, took a small breath that teased his cock with cool air, and then enveloped him in that soft warmth again, pushing up on her knees. His hand moved from the base of her head to her hair, tugging her forward, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. She allowed it, moved into it, pressing her breasts against his thighs as she moved her hand away and let him sink deeper into her mouth. He hissed quietly, hips snapping a bit as the tip of his cock pressed hotly against the back of her throat. He held still, pulling her further, daring to slip past into her throat. A violent gag erupted from her body, making her lurch and cling onto his legs as if it would help.

“Don’t move,” he breathed out, firm hold returning to the base of her head, “Stay fuckin’ still.”

Her nails dug into his skin as another gag built up inside her that she fought to keep down. Remmick’s hips keened forward, testing as she tried to breathe, to get any sort of relief, but failed. Everything, every sense she had—her taste, her smell—it was all him. His eyes shut as his head tilted back. He reared his hips back slowly, only to for Lottie to lean forward, determined to take all of him like her body begged for, but he grabbed his cock and pulled it out of her mouth roughly, tutting his tongue.

“What did I just tell you?”

She caught her breath, hands falling to her lap. Remmick sighed, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“ ‘M sorry,” she managed to say, head spinning as her eyes blurred, “I just…need you.”

And she did. Painfully. Her lips trembled as she watched his part thoughtfully, his knuckles caressing her cheekbone tenderly. Her eyes were teary, but Remmick could see the quiet determination in them, the hunger, the need. It was only the gentlemanly thing to do to oblige her.

He gathered up her hair in his hand and her mouth fell open naturally, tongue finding his head like it was the only place it belonged. Remmick allowed it, fascinated by the woman he was now watching worship his cock who had trained a pistol on him barely a week ago. She curved her tongue underneath his shaft and licked up its length, tilting her head to keep her eyes on his like he’d told her to. She let spit bubble from her mouth and, with quivering breaths, spread it slick over him with her lips, watching him melt into her touch as a heavier, deeper sigh escaped his lips.

“That’s a girl,” he said, voice barely a rasp escaping his throat.

She took him into his mouth, eyes flitting up expectantly. He grinned, fingers curling roughly against her scalp.

“You want me to fuck every little part o’ ya,” he muttered, forcing his cock down her throat, “Is that it?”

The sensation was so intense that Lottie felt each thrust echo through her whole body. He didn’t give her time to gag on him, just take his force, his heat, and all of it pooled between her legs as weak moans vibrated out of her. She placed one hand on the floor between her thighs to steady herself, pressing her arm against her swollen clit and squeezing around it to find some release—Remmick was too distracted by the sensations of her mouth to stop her.

She pressed against her wrist, grinding slowly until Remmick abruptly stopped, pulling out of her mouth with a pop. She made a soft whine, trying to catch him. He raised a brow, tugging her head back.

“Think yer slick, rubbing your pussy like that?”

She swallowed against her sore throat, eyes trailing away shyly. Remmick grinned, but dropped it as soon as she managed to meet his eyes again. She really was too perfect. He leaned down, grabbing her by the throat and standing her up on her weak legs. She gasped, hands fluttering around his on her neck, nearly stumbling over her feet. His eyes meandered her lovely, ruined face.

“Such a sweet girl,” he whispered, grinned creeping back in again, “Can’t help yourself, can ya?”

She shook her head feebly against his strength, pussy throbbing. She needed him, and she needed him now.

“Please,” she begged quietly.

He leaned his head toward her, moving her closer by his hold on her throat, making her gasp as she was lifted to her toes. She could feel herself getting lightheaded, she hadn’t gotten enough breath after his cock had smothered her before.

“What was that, darlin’?”

“Please,” she choked out, “Please…fuck me.”

He smiled, looking down at her quivering lips, her trembling hands holding onto his securely around her neck. He squeezed gently, toying with the flesh, then pulled her closer to place a soft, slow kiss on her lips. She gasped for air as their lips parted, their mouths slick with saliva and laced with each other's taste, grabbing onto his shoulder and rubbing her thighs together desperately.

"I could snap your neck," he said softly, brushing dark coils off her forehead gently, "I could kill ya without even trying."

He lifted her up a bit more, eyes studying her face as if he was thinking it over, and Lottie couldn't believe how good it felt to be weak, at his mercy. Remmick chuckled.

"I could kill ya, and all knowing that does is make ya even wetter?"

He tossed her back onto the bed, listening as she yelped and gasped for air, rubbing her throat and crawling further onto the bed. Remmick climbed on top of her, admiring the handprint he'd left on her neck, caressing it gently with his fingertips and watching her shiver. He smiled, shaking his head.

"No one knows, do they?"

"Know wha--mmm..."

She eagerly closed her mouth around his fingers, sucking on them as he slid them out of her parted lips. Remmick couldn't help but chuckle again as he parted her weak legs, slowly pressing his two digits inside her slick pussy. He pursed his lips and hissed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Ooh, no one 'cept me knows."

He slowly dragged his fingers across her spongy walls, curling and pushing them out and in, admiring her slickness as she moaned, grabbing onto his arm as her knees bent to open up more for him.

"Please," she begged, " 's not enough..."

Her head fell back into the bed as he pushed his fingers inside roughly, that wicked grin permanently plastered on his face. His thumb pressed against her clit and rubbed as he picked up his pace with his fingers, watching her hips rock in sync, her pussy desperately closing around his digits and squeezing tightly as she whimpered and came.

"Oh," he murmured in mock surprise, "That easy, baby?"

Lottie felt close to weeping. Her body was on fire--each release only made the feeling worse, the ache for his length to be pounding inside her until his seed quenched the flame raging between her feverish thighs. He slid his fingers out, sliding them into her mouth and smiling as she sucked off her own juices, too hungry for his skin to be put off by the taste. She whined as he slipped his fingers out of her mouth again, grabbing his hand and cupping it against his cheek so he could feel what he was doing to her; the heat...it was unbearable.

"I know," he muttered affectionately, "I know."

His hand slid back to her neck and gripped it tightly as he pressed himself on top of her and kissed her forcefully. Her fractured breath burst out of her nose as she kissed him back, her mouth opening wider for their tongues to meet. The heat on her skin grew stronger each time their jaws moved together, and she began to lose herself in the feeling, the agonizing blaze becoming a little easier to bear, so long as he never stopped kissing her, so long as he never stopped grinding his shaft against her puffy folds and groaned into her mouth. He broke his mouth away from hers, peppering kisses on her cheeks and grunting into her ear.

"You need it, darlin'?"

Her words slurred out, mind numbing out as she struggled to find them. "Fuck, please--"

"You sound so good when you beg," he whispered against her cheek, lining his hips up with hers. "Keep doin' it."

She groaned heavily as he dragged his tip against her cunt, teasing her entrance. "I need you to fuck me so badly, please don't make me wait anymore."

Another whine escaped her lips as he pulled her upright, holding her against his chest as he lined himself up with her cunt then slowly, excruciatingly, eased her onto his cock. Her weight leaned onto him as an overwhelming wave of relief weighed down her limbs, tears pricking at her eyes. It was good, it was so good, it felt impossible to bear. Slowly, with shuddering breaths, she pressed herself deeper so she could fill herself up to the brim with his length, whimpering at the feeling of his engorged head kissing her cervix. Her nails dug into his shoulders as his hands slid up her back and fastened onto the base of her neck, holding her down firmly as her hips slowly rocked against him.

"So good," she slurred, lips smushed against his neck as she gasped, " 's so good, Remmick..."

Lottie's mind swirled into nothingness as her body moved on its own, picking up the pace. She had never felt so full, so complete, and the friction of him against her sweet spot made her keen onto him, shuddering breaths slowly evolving into moans as Remmick's breath grew heavy against her breasts.

"Fuck, baby," he uttered softly, inhaling that fruity scent, pressing his lips into a firm line. "You gon' give it all to me, huh?"

She nodded, eyebrows creasing as she bit down on her lip. The bed began to squeak as they rocked against each other, shaky moans and heavy grunts filling the room. Lottie could feel something sharp digging into her skin, dragging down her back, but the pain only made her squeeze around him as she cried out, grinding against him harder, a surge of energy striking through her like a second wind.

"That's it," Remmick encouraged, voice quaking as his forehead wrinkled, "Oh, that's a girl."

Her hips began to rock and down as she clung to him, desperately trying to create more friction inside her, her folds dragging against ever little ridge of his cock, her pussy clenching and sucking him in as her ass began to bounce off of his thighs, Remmick's hands quickly shifted to her hips, claws digging into her sweaty stomach and lower back as he moved with her, his gravelly moans filling her ears.

"All those boys lookin' at ya," he breathed into her ear, "Thinkin' you're so pure and innocent, scared to touch ya..."

The thought made Lottie groan in frustration as her teeth broke her skin. Remmick moved her hips, his strength lifting her up and down on his cock, claws scratching her thighs and ass as the slivers on her back and stomach began to weep out droplets of blood. His nose flared, fangs peeking out of his gums at the sweet aroma of arousal that poured from the ruby red substance.

"I ain't scared to touch ya," he said, "Am I?"

Lottie shook her head, straightening up and tilting her head backward, tears spilling out of her cheeks. Remmick stopped moving her to grab her chin and kiss her, tongue swiping over her bloodied lips as he let out a soft growl. She whimpered, afraid to open her eyes and see the monster she could feel against her nude, slick body, hanging onto the back of his neck as their tongues met and another painful wave of heat burned through her muscles.

"You taste so sweet, darlin'. So sweet."

Remmick lifted her up to her knees--much to her weak noises of disapproval-- and turned her around, pushing her face into the patchwork quilt and pressing his hand into her back to ease it into a curve. He bent over, tongue greedily skimming the blood on her back, and gently nipped at her neck with his fangs.

"Please--please--"

He caged her body underneath his, leveraging his weight above her, spitting in his blood-smeared hand and stroking his length. "I'm putting it back in, baby."

He did it in one rough thrust, taking all the air out of her lungs. Her breath rasped as he eased his hips against hers, the tip of his cock pressing firmly into the deepest crevices she didn't even know she had. He hooked one hand around one of her hips, leaning on his other, which he placed lovingly on her head, and shifted his hips back and forth slowly to ease her into the new angle he was piercing her with. A string of breathy moans broke through her lips as she gripped onto the quilt, swallowing as heat and slick filled her pussy and gushed around Remmick's cock. He let out a breathy chuckle, then a whimper as his hips moved faster until they drove against hers, making the headboard crash against the wall.

"Oh--my--oh my god," Lottie squeaked, leaning desperately into him, "Oh my god!"

He dug his claws into her punishingly. "Bad word, dove; dirty word."

She cried out, hand flying back to squeeze his wrist and try to tug his claws off of her. He loosened his fingers to ease the pain, watching the muscles in her back shudder and relax. The headboard hit the wall loudly, overpowering the sounds of skin against skin, whimpering, and Remmick's low muttering into Lottie's ear.

"You make the perfect whore, ya know that? You're my perfect little whore," he said hotly into her skin, "I'm not sharing ya with anybody--you're mine. All mine."

Lottie could feel it building at the base of her spine. She tried to lift a weak arm to touch herself, but couldn't manage the strength. With a pained grunt, she backed into his thrusts, making the bed rock fully. It felt like the walls were shrinking, closing in, stealing air from her lungs as the ball of fire inside her built and built until she shrieked.

Her vision went white, and she shuddered violently underneath Remmick's body, trying to bear the force of release that was overtaking her. She thought her brain would melt inside her feverish head and leak out of her ears. Remmick gave two more stilted, harsh thrusts, but the way she squeezed around him was too much. He dug his claws into the quilt, tearing the fabric, fangs baring as hips stuttered and locked against her, cum spilling inside her, hot and fast as her blood.

"Remmick," she gasped, "Remmick, it's inside--"

She moaned as he covered her mouth, grunting, relishing the feeling of emptying into her as she softened beneath him, hips keening into him. Remmick caught his breath, slowly straightening up, fingers gently grazing her back. Lottie's hands trembled as she lay still, eyes shut, the fever mercifully broken.

"Shit," she whispered, inhaling deeply through her nose.

Remmick smiled at the remark. "You liked that, didya?"

Still inside her, he laid them down onto their side delicately, mindful of her cuts. She let out a deep sigh, reaching for his hand and pulling his arm over her waist to hold her closer, intertwining his fingers with his.

"You a real generous man, Remmick," she said, weak smile forming on her lips. "Real generous."

Remmick chuckled, pressing a soft kiss onto her neck. He eyed the baby blue light of the morning against the white drapery, then looked back down at Lottie’s peaceful face. He brushed the hair off her forehead and kissed it, listening to the crows calling outside.

#amaranthine_enihtnarama #remmick x reader #my wriitng #divider credit: @/luvuxa #divider credit: @/anitalenia #divider credit: @/pommecita #black!reader #black!fem!reader #black y/n #remmick smut #mdni please #remmick x oc

200 notes · View notes