The Devil's Play Thing

Chapter Two - Rottweiler?!

Her date emerged from the shadows behind her, his words making her jump out of her skin. His footsteps were heavy and uneven as he stumbled across the rain-soaked and soggy ground. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his face flushed, sweat trickling down his face. Havana raised her eyebrows, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she admired his disheveled appearance.

“Why do you look like you’ve been f****d and dragged through a bush backwards?" She asked, her voice laced with sarcasm and insincere concern.

He used his hands to wipe the sweat from his face, still panting slightly as he gathered his thoughts. “Well, I started walking here and this huge ass rottweiler came out of literally no where,” he begun, his voice cracking from exhaustion. “At first, I thought I was tripping but then this beast started snarling at me, bearing these motherfucking huge teeth. I tried to walk away, but it followed me. I think I lost it about fifteen minutes ago, dropping my phone in the process and then I had to attempt to find my way here, not knowing where the hell I even was--”

Havana let out a silence-shattering giggle “The six-foot-four MMA fighter is scared of a little rottweiler? Insane.”

His expression grew angrier, cutting her off with a scowl. “That thing was f*****g massive. It looked like it wanted to tear me apart.”

Havana shrugged, deeply amused by what he was saying. She offered him some of her joint “Here, Cian, you silly goose. This will help. There are no big, scary hellhounds here. Only a girl who surpringly still wants to f**k you.”

Cian took it from her, nodding with gratitude as he brought it to his lips and inhaled deeply a few times. The smoke entwined around his lips as he exhaled, his tense expression descending and melting away. “Thanks, Hav,” he muttered as he leaned back against the tree beside her.

His gaze shifted promptly towards Havana’s unusual attire, which left little to the imagination. A primitive grin began spreading across his face as he admired the way the black and green contrasted against her pale skin. “The green, sheer crop top and fishnets are really doing it for me, Hav. You’re so insanely hot, it's mindblowing.” He murmured with a low and suggestive tone.

Havana rolled her eyes dismissively, her patience for compliments worn almost non-existent thin from hearing insincerity over the years. “Yeah, yeah, we doing this or nah?”

Cian lifted his eyebrows slightly, his eyes sparking with mild excitement, overshadowed by the anxiety he felt at her question. “You really want me to rail you in a graveyard?”

“Of course,” she replied, her voice shrouded with dark sincerity. “It’s every goth girls dream to be f****d by a demon in Graveyard, at night, surrounded by dead things.” The way she expressed herself left no doubt that she meant every word.

Cian shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips as he spoke, “Goths girls are hot until they want you to act like the horny grim reaper and f**k them senseless in a graveyard at midnight.”

Havana rolled her eyes and leaned towards Cian. Her breath was warm against his ear. “So, Mr grim reaper, are you going to f**k me or what?” she whisped provokotively.

Her lips brushed against his, kissing slowly and teasing the taste of one another. It began growing more intense, and Havana moved with a predatory grace, climbing onto his lap and straddling him. With the confidence she’d presented countless times before, she took off her shirt and bra, revealing her pale, bare breasts. Each n****e was adorned with silver piercings that formed an ‘X’ across her n*****s. The autumn air bit at her exposed flesh, causing goosebumps to form quickly.

Cian's hands moved with playful aggression, grasping her breasts, toying with the cool, metal piercings that embellished her n*****s. He pulled her closer, their bodies pressing together. He lowered his head, his lips finding her supple neck and began to kiss her skin with a fierce hunger. His teeth grazed her flesh before he began to suck hard, leaving her with a dark hickey that would serve as a reminder of this night. His hands slid into her hair, tugging at it with just enough force to make her gasp pleasurably, her eyes fluttering as she savoured every inch of his touch.

Havana reached for the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head as fast as she could. His muscular chest, embellished with an intricate Buddha tattoo and further intricate patterns, caught her eye immediately. She ran her nails softly over his chest, her voice ecstatic with approval, “This is sexy as hell.”

Before Cian could execute a response, she began kissing him again, their kiss growing more intense as their desire kindled. Their breaths quickened as they lost themselves more and more in the moment, and with a sudden, primal need, Cian flipped Havana onto her stomach, the blanket beneath her bunching up as he positioned her. She felt his hands on her fishnets, the fabric tearing easily beneath his aggressive touch, exposing more of her to the bitterness. He lifted her skirt, his breath hot against her ear as he growled, “get on your knees, arch that pretty little back of yours, slut.”

Havana obeyed without hesitation, her body trembling with anticipation as she felt his hands on her hips, pulling her back towards him. The first thrust was rough and aggressive, sending a jolt of pleasure and pain through her that made her almost squeal. Havana gripped the blanket, her knuckles white as she tried to ground herself in the moment's intensity. He began thrusting harder, digging his nails into Havana's hips as moans of pleasure escaped from Havana’s mouth, encouraging him to give in to his desire.

A loud, daunting squawk broke Havana’s concentration, and the void of emptiness began clawing itself back into her mind, numbness seeping back into her veins like a poison that needed her. No matter how hard he was trying, no matter how deep he went inside her, it wasn’t enough. Finally, she pushed him away, rolling onto her side, catching her breath as she tried to cover herself.

“What the f**k? I’m not done,” he snapped, frustration and disbelief contorting his features as he tried to pull her back toward him.

Havana turned to face him, her expression unreadable, a veil of indifference masking the sadness she felt from this being another failure to add to her list. “I’m just not feeling it,” she said flatly, a depressing comparison from the passion her voice held just moments ago. “This isn’t doing it for me.”

He stared at her, his eyes wide with pure disbelief and horror. “You’ve been teasing me for months, begging me to f**k you in a gravyard, I finally come and it just… isn’t good enough for you?” His voice rose, tainted with anger and hurt. “Are you serious?”

She shrugged, her gaze drifting away from him, focusing on a branch above her. “Yeah, I guess. I think the chase was better than the prize. I don’t know-” she murmured more to herself than to him.

Her words were a cold, unapologetic slap to the face, and he recoiled as if they had struck him hard. His face began twisting with anger and before his brain could prevent the bomb he was about to drop “You think being a w***e is going to fill that gaping hole inside of you? You know, the one left by your pedophile uncle?”

The words made Havana tense up, her breath catching in her throat as the old wounds ripped open inside of her, filling her with anguish and pain once again. Her eyes darkened, filling with tears, and before she could stop herself, she slapped him across the face. The sharp crack of Havana's palm against his cheek echoed through the grounds, shattering the tension he created in the process.

The world seemed to freeze for a brief moment. Havana’s entire body tensed, her breath catching in her throat.

“Don’t you dare f*****g call me again,” she hissed, her voice trembling with barely controlled rage.

Cian rubbed his cheek, the sting of her slap still lingering, his eyes narrowing in anger. Havana braced herself, anticipating that he would retaliate and unleash his torrent of venom, but instead, he just shook his head and turned to walk away from her.

Havana watched him go without saying a word. Her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to steady her breathing, her emotions a chaotic mess inside her. When she was certain he was gone, she collapsed back onto the blanket, lying on her back as she stared up into the sky.

The words he’d launched at her echoed in her mind, cutting deeper than she would ever allow anyone to see. They hurt because they were true. She had spent so many years trying to fill the void inside her, using anyone who would sleep with her as a temporary distraction, delusionally hoping that maybe this time, somehow, it would be different, and she’d feel something more than just the cold, aching emptiness. But it never worked. It seemed to feed the void, consuming her final sparks of hope with every fleeting connection she made.

Havana closed her eyes. Memories of her childhood began flooding her mind. Her uncles' abuse, the years of forced silence, the sickness that nearly killed her when she was nineteen, forcing the truth out and making it impossible for people to ignore. But even then, there was no protection, comfort or solace from her mother when she desperately needed her the most. Her mother couldn’t bear the shame of having a daughter like that, so she left Havana to unravel in solitude.

“Maybe he was right,” she thought bitterly. “Maybe nothing will ever fill this emptiness.”

The thought lingered in her mind for a moment. “No. I won’t be like this forever. I-I-I can’t be?”

With a deep breath, she pushed herself up from the blanket, her body moving on autopilot as she gathered her things. She cast one last glance at the tree and the surrounding areas to make sure she hadn’t left anything before turning away and walking toward the gate.

As she stepped out of the graveyard, the same crows from before, watching from above before taking flight, their wings beating at the surrounding air. Havana watched them disappear into the night, their cries echoing in her ears long after they departed.

“Jesus Christ on a holy flying bike, get me the hell home.”