𝕹𝔬𝖙𝔢: 𝕾𝔲𝖓𝔡𝖆𝔶 𝔪𝖊𝔞𝖑, 𝔡𝖔𝔫'𝔱 𝔢𝖆𝔱 𝔪𝖊. ℑ 𝔴𝖆𝔰 𝔦𝖓𝔰𝖕𝔦𝖗𝔢𝖉 𝖇𝔶 𝔪𝖎𝔫𝖊 𝖕𝔬𝖑𝔦𝖘𝔥 𝔣𝖔𝔩𝖐𝔩𝖔𝔯𝖊 𝖓𝔶𝖒𝔭𝖍 𝖎𝔰 𝔠𝖆𝔩𝖑𝔢𝖉 𝕽𝔲𝖘𝔞ł𝔨𝖆, 𝔞𝖓𝔡 𝔭𝖊𝔯𝖘𝔬𝖓𝔞𝖓𝔩𝖑𝔶 𝔦𝖘 𝖒𝔶 𝔣𝖆𝔳 𝔰𝖑𝔞𝖛𝔦𝖈 𝖋𝔢𝖒𝔞𝖑𝔢 𝔡𝖊𝔪𝖔𝔫. 𝕰𝔫𝖏𝔬𝖞,. 𝕬𝔩𝖘𝔬 𝔰𝖈𝔢𝖓𝔢 𝔴𝖆𝔰 𝔦𝖓𝔰𝖕𝔦𝖗𝔢𝖉 𝖇𝔶 𝔠𝖍𝔲𝖗𝔠𝖍 𝖘𝔠𝖊𝔫𝖊 𝖋𝔯𝖔𝔪 𝔖𝕬𝔖 𝔰𝖊𝔞𝖘𝔬𝖓 2.
𝔓𝖆𝔡𝖉𝔶 𝔐𝖆𝔶𝖓𝔢 𝔞𝖓𝔡 𝔰𝖆𝔰 𝔰𝖔𝔩𝖉𝔦𝖊𝔯𝖘 𝖑𝔞𝖓𝔡 𝔬𝖓 𝕴𝔱𝖆𝔩𝖞
𝕿𝔥𝖊𝔶 𝔤𝖔 𝖙𝔬 𝔠𝖍𝔲𝖗𝔠𝖍 𝖙𝔬 𝔥𝖆𝔳𝖊 𝖆𝔫𝖘𝔴𝖊𝔯𝖘. 𝔓𝖆𝔡𝖉𝔶 𝔪𝖊𝔢𝖙 𝖘𝔬𝖒𝔢𝖔𝔫𝖊 𝖜𝔥𝖔 𝖈𝔬𝖓𝔮𝖚𝔢𝖗 𝖍𝔦𝖘 𝖇𝔬𝖉𝔶 𝔞𝖓𝔡 𝔪𝖎𝔫𝖉 𝖈𝔬𝖒𝔭𝖑𝔢𝖙𝔢.
𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: 18+ 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱, 𝖕𝔞𝖉𝔡𝖞 𝖎𝔰 𝔭𝖔𝔰𝖘𝔢𝖉 (?), 𝔞𝖑𝔱𝖆𝔯 𝔰𝖊𝔵, 𝖙𝔢𝖒𝔭𝖙𝔦𝖓𝔤 𝔟𝖞 𝖓𝔶𝖒𝔭𝖍, 𝔠𝖍𝔲𝖗𝔠𝖍 𝖘𝔢𝖝,. 𝕮𝔲𝖗𝔰𝖎𝔫𝖌, 𝔣𝖎𝔫𝖌𝔢𝖗𝔦𝖓𝔤 (𝕱𝔢𝖒 𝖗𝔢𝖈𝔢𝖎𝔳𝖊), 𝖘𝔩𝖆𝔳𝖎𝔠 𝔣𝖔𝔩𝖐𝔩𝖔𝔯𝖊, 𝔯𝖎𝔡𝖎𝔫𝖌, 𝔭𝖗𝔬𝖋𝔞𝖓𝔦𝖙𝔶 𝔬𝖋 𝖘𝔞𝖎𝔫𝖙 𝖕𝔩𝖆𝔠𝖊, 𝔰𝖚𝔭𝖊𝔯𝖓𝔞𝖙𝔲𝖗𝔞𝖑 𝖙𝔥𝖎𝔫𝖌𝔰, 𝖋𝔦𝖓𝔤𝖊𝔯𝖎𝔫𝖌, 𝔭𝖆𝔡𝖉𝔶 𝔪𝖆𝔶𝖓𝔢, 𝖕𝔞𝖉𝔡𝖞 𝖒𝔞𝖞𝔫𝖊 𝖚𝔥.
@kteezy997 @punani-san @pedroncigarettes @solthia-x
The heavy oak doors of the Italian church didn't just open; they were violently breached
The smell of gunpowder mixed with blood and the oppressive Napoli sun were pricked deep into their noses, cutting straight into their lungs. Paddy Mayne, the most rough, volatile, and unpredictable man in the British military, stood on Italian land with one singular, bloody purpose: to finally cut the Nazi pigs' heads off.
The city was barely occupied by German soldiers anymore—the SAS could certainly be proud of themselves for the chaos they had sown. But this was just the tail end of the campaign. Just the beginning of the cleanup. Some of Hitler's minions were still lurking in the shadows, hiding like rats. And Paddy needed answers. Who could give the commander the locations of the remaining targets?
Paddy’s wild, piercing blue eyes locked onto the towering church doors. With a grim, ruthless tilt of his head, he stepped inside, Reggie and Jock following closely at his heels into the massive, echoing house of the Lord.
Paddy laughed hard, a dark, gravelly sound that bounced off the high vaulted ceilings. As a proud Irish Protestant—and a man who had seen the absolute worst horrors of war—he knew there was nothing miraculous left in so-called "holy" things. God didn't live in Europe anymore. To prove his point, Paddy carelessly laid his heavy machine gun right across the altar's crucifix.
Reggie huffed, adjusting his kit as he grabbed a small, trembling old man in robes—the priest. The old man was absolutely terrified, his knees knocking against the stone floor.
"Where they others?" Paddy asked, his thick Irish lilt cutting through the cold, dead air of the nave like a blade.
"They gone, please, we got here mafia," the priest explained, his voice cracking with a desperate, breathless Italian accent. He was practically begging, his hands shaking in Reggie’s tight grip.
But Paddy didn't believe a word of it. He didn't have time for local lies or wartime excuses. He aggressively tossed his gun into his chest, his knuckles white, his posture towering and lethal. Jock and Reggie stepped forward, their faces tense, trying to call their commander down before he completely desecrated the sanctuary.
"Paddy, steady on," Jock muttered, but Paddy ignored him entirely.
"I don't talk to fucking mafia, and your blood is gonna be here, priest," Paddy grunted through his clenched teeth, his face inches from the old man's pale countenance.
Then, in a single, heart-stopping second, the whole holy vibe in the church was completely gone. The air shifted. Something was profoundly, deeply wrong. A sudden, unnatural darkness filled the air, sweeping through the marble. The stench of stale incense and old dust vanished, replaced by an overwhelming, impossibly thick scent. The smell of a deep, dark lake and wild, blooming flowers became intensely real, rolling over the soldiers like a wave.
The priest's eyes went perfectly round, a brand new, paralyzing terror rewriting his features.
"Dear Lord, she's escape... Lord have a mercy!" the priest talked round and round, repeating those words like a frantic, broken mantra. "Lord have mercy... she's escape..."
Paddy was rapidly getting irritated by the old man's babbling, his jaw tight, his hand ready to strike. But then, he saw her.
Paddy froze. The anger evaporated from his chest, replaced by a sudden, dangerous curiosity.
She was sitting directly on the altar, looking like a hallucination born of the dark heat. A heavy white dress covered her fragile body, cascading over the stone like spilled silk. Her skin was impossibly pale, light in the dim nave, and she smelled beautifully of fresh milk and wild honey from a hidden valley. Her eyes were wide, curious, and pure—but beneath that purity, was there a flicker of dark, undeniable lust?
Paddy and the other SAS soldiers couldn't tell. All they knew was that she absolutely did not fit into the brutal, blood-soaked war frame around them. She was a vision of perfection in a room full of killers.
"Motherfucker, what we got here?" Paddy asked, his rough voice dropping an octave as he made a slow, deliberate step toward her, his heavy boots clicking against the marble.
"DON'T TALK TO HER! SHE'S A CURSE!" the priest shouted, his voice cracking with absolute panic.
Paddy didn't even look back. He just barked a harsh order over his shoulder. "Reggie, shut him up!"
As Reggie dragged the shouting priest back, she smiled. It was a little smile, entirely possessive and completely unbothered by the violence in the room. Slowly, with an elegant, hypnotic grace, she stood up from the altar, rising to stand right next to him.
"Greetings, soldier," she murmured, her voice a rich, smooth.
Paddy couldn't take his eyes off her.
He reached out, his massive, rough, and dirt-stained hand gently holding hers. He leaned down, his rugged jaw brushing her skin as he kissed the delicate skin of her wrist, feeling her steady, warm pulse beneath his lips.
"What that beauty creature doing in a place like here?" Paddy rasped, his voice thick with a sudden, heavy attraction.
Instead of answering right away, you started to walk slowly around him, your bare feet silent on the cold stone. You cast a fleeting, dark glance at Jock and Reggie, who were standing frozen, completely bewitched by your presence.
"I just hide from bombs, priest give me shelter but I don't want hide the whole life," you said, turning your gaze back to the priest. You smiled at him. To the soldiers standing in the room, it looked like a sweet, innocent smile of a rescued girl. But to the priest, who knew the dark folklore of your blood, that smile belonged entirely to a devil.
"Nymph! They burn you, witch!" the priest shouted, thrashing wildly in Reggie's grip.
Paddy’s patience finally snapped. He didn't look at the old man, but his hand flew to his gun. He tossed the weapon up and blew some bullets straight into the stone floor near the priest's feet, the deafening cracks echoing like thunder through the nave, silencing the old man instantly.
You didn't scream. Instead, you gave a shy and choked look, your dark, wide eyes locking straight into Paddy's intense blue gaze. You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a hypnotic, breathless whisper.
"Devil? Me? Soldier, don't listen to him, he's dealing with Italian mafia," you murmured, your delicate fingers reaching out to touch the lapel of his uniform. "I'm pure."
Paddy stared deep into your eyes, the last of his military discipline melting away under your touch. The smell of the lake and wild flowers was making his head spin, a heavy, intoxicating arousal pooling deep in his stomach. He was completely under your spell.
"Paddy Mayne, my pleasure," he introduced himself, his voice a low, gravelly rumble as he gripped your waist through the fabric of your dress. "What yours?"
You leaned up on your toes, your pale lips almost brushing the rough skin of his neck.
"You can name me what you like ," you whispered directly into his ear.
You leaned in closer, tilting your head back to deeply smell him—inhaling the intoxicating, masculine scent of his sweat, the bitter gunpowder on his skin, and the raw, violent adrenaline of a man who was now completely yours.
Paddy let out a low, animalistic grunt, his heavy hands tightening against your hips, his mind completely gone.
The silence that followed the gunfire was suffocating, broken only by the sharp, metallic ping of empty shell casings settling onto the cold marble floor. Reggie and Jock stood frozen by the entrance, their knuckles white on their weapons, their eyes wide. They wanted to move, to drag their commander out of this twisted sanctuary, but the heavy, intoxicating scent of the lake and wild flowers seemed to anchor their boots to the stone.
Paddy didn't care about his men. He didn't care about the war. The world had shrunk down entirely to the pale, fragile girl standing beneath the shadow of the altar, her breath a sweet puff of milk and honey against his neck.
"Name you what I want, eh?" Paddy rasped, his voice rougher now, the Irish lilt thick with a dark, heavy hunger. His massive hands remained locked onto your hips, the heat of his palms burning right through the fabric of your dress. "I think you’re a little witch. A distraction I don't need."
You let out a soft, melodic laugh that hummed directly against his skin, sending a violent jiver straight down his spine. Instead of pulling away from his rough grip, you leaned back just enough to look up into his fierce, unhinged blue eyes.
"A distraction?" you murmured, your fingers slowly sliding up the rough canvas of his uniform shirt, your dark-painted nails tracing the line of his collarbone. "Or the only true thing you've found in this bloody country, Major Mayne?"
You began to move, your body sliding against his with a torturously slow, deliberate friction. You didn't break eye contact for a single second. Step by step, you backed him up against the heavy, ornate stone pillar of the altar, guiding his massive frame exactly where you wanted him. Paddy was a man who moved like a hurricane on the battlefield, but right now, he felt like he was moving through deep, dark water. His mind was spinning, completely under your spell.
"You're a bold little thing," Paddy growled, his jaw clenching as you tilted your head, your hair brushing his cheek. He tried to maintain his harsh, commanding edge, but his breathing was turning shallow, his chest heaving hard against yours. "The old man said they kept you behind bars. Maybe I should put you back."
"You could try," you whispered, a small, possessive smirk curving your lips. You reached up, your fingers tangling gently into the short, sweat-dampened strands of his hair, pulling just enough to force him to lean down. "But your hands are trembling, soldier. Are you afraid of a curse?"
"I'm not afraid of anything," he muttered, though the words lacked any real bite.
To prove his point, his grip tightened, his calloused thumbs digging into the soft skin above your hips, anchoring you to him. But you only used it to your advantage, leaning in until your lips brushed the sensitive skin just beneath his ear, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his sweat and gunpowder.
"Then show me, Paddy," you breathed into his ear, your tongue lightly tracing the shell of it, a sharp, teasing spark that made his whole body go rigid with desire. "Show me how violent you can be when you aren't killing."
Paddy let out a low, animalistic grunt, the last thread of his military discipline snapping entirely. He was completely undone, utterly bewitched by the sweet, dark temptation of the girl the church had hidden away for too long.
The air in the church grew thicker, the sweet, heavy scent of dark lake water and wild flowers swelling until it completely drowned out the stale smell of old incense and blood. Paddy stood pinned by his own choice, his back resting against the heavy stone pillar of the altar, his heart hammering a frantic, wild rhythm against his ribs. He felt entirely under your spell. Every instinct that usually made him a sharp, lethal commander was melting away, replaced by an intoxicating, heavy fog that pooled deep in his gut.
You smirked, a little, knowing curve of your lips as you saw the heavy darkness take over his blue eyes. You knew exactly what you were doing to him. Slowly, agonizingly, you slid your hands down from his hair, your fingertips lightly tracing the tense column of his throat, down over the rough fabric of his blood-stained lapels.
"You are so tense, Major," you purred, leaning in until your chest pressed flat against his heaving torso. You tilted your head, your pale skin contrasting sharply against his sunburned, dirt-caked neck as you nuzzled him, taking a deep, deliberate breath. "A big, fierce soldier... completely frozen by a fragile girl."
Paddy let out a low, ragged breath, his jaw clenching so hard the muscles ticked. He wanted to grab you, to show you exactly how dangerous he could be, but your closeness was paralyzing him. You were teasing him, pushing his boundaries right in front of his men, and he was entirely powerless to stop you.
"Dear God, look at his eyes! He is lost!" the priest's voice suddenly shattered the quiet, a shrill, hysterical shriek from the back of the nave. The old man was thrashing wildly in Reggie’s grip, his face pale with absolute horror. "She's gonna kill you! She will suck the soul from your body, soldier! Turn away!"
The old man's shouting broke through the fog in Paddy's brain just enough to ignite his ferocious Irish temper. He didn't want the priest looking at you. He didn't want his men seeing how completely undone he was by a girl sitting on an altar. He wanted privacy. He wanted to "talk" to you without the entire world watching his surrender.
Without breaking eye contact with you, Paddy snapped his head back toward his men, his voice a harsh, echoing roar that brooked absolute obedience.
"Reggie! Jock! Take the fucking priest and get out!" Paddy barked, his breathing shallow and heavy. "Clear the perimeter. Lock the doors from the outside. Nobody comes in here until I say so."
"But Paddy—" Jock started, looking warily at the strange, intoxicating setup on the altar.
"I said get the fuck out!" Paddy roared, his hand blindly reaching down to slap the holster at his hip. "Now!"
Seeing the mad captain completely unhinged, Reggie and Jock didn't dare argue further. Reggie aggressively shoved the weeping, praying priest toward the heavy oak exit, the old man still screaming his frantic warnings about the Nymph, until the massive wooden doors slammed shut behind them. The heavy iron lock clicked into place from the outside with a loud, final boom.
Silence descended on the church once more, heavier and hotter than before.
You let out a soft, breathy laugh against Paddy's neck, the sound sending a violent shiver straight down his spine.
"So aggressive," you whispered, your fingers sliding lower, tracing the brass buttons of his uniform shirt down to his belt. "You chased away your guards, Paddy Mayne. Now there is no one left to save you from the curse."
"I don't need saving," Paddy growled, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble as his large, calloused hands locked onto your waist with a bruising grip, anchoring you flush against his hardening body. "Now tell me what you really are before I ruin this pretty dress of yours."
You giggled, a soft, melodic sound that hummed directly against his skin, sending a violent shiver straight down his spine. You leaned up on your toes, your pale lips almost brushing his, teasing him with your proximity until your breath mingled with his.
"I'm just a silly girl who needs a soldier," you whispered directly into his lips, your voice dripping with sweet, mocking innocence.
Before he could answer, before his battle-hardened brain could process the lie, you closed the distance. You kissed him with pure, ravenous hunger.
There was nothing gentle or holy about it. Your lips crashed against his, demanding and deep, your tongues dancing in a fierce, breathless rhythm that mimicked the violence of the war outside. You let out a soft, low moan into his mouth, the sound vibrating through his chest and shattering the last of his defense.
Paddy wasn't a man who was easy to tempt. Even with the intoxicating scent of the lake and wild flowers filling his lungs, his logical, soldier’s mind was still fighting a losing battle. He was thinking somehow strange—a small, distant part of him knew this was unnatural, that no ordinary girl found in a war-torn Italian church should have this kind of terrifying, hypnotic power over him. He knew he was stepping into a trap, but the raw, primal arousal pooling in his gut was too powerful to fight.
Then, the internal war in his mind snapped completely.
Paddy stopped fighting the spell. With a low, feral growl that rumbled deep in his throat, he took control. He started to kiss you back with a brutal, desperate intensity, his mouth bruising yours as he matched your hunger note for note.
His massive, calloused hands left your waist and started to touch you everywhere, eager to feel the skin beneath the white fabric. One heavy hand slid up your spine, his thick fingers tangling ruthlessly into your hair to tilt your head back, securing his grip so he could drink deeper from your mouth. His other hand trailed down the curve of your hip, his rough palm bunching up the layers of your white dress, pulling the silk upward until his scarred, dirt-caked fingers made direct, burning contact with the bare, pale skin of your thigh.
You moaned again, your fingers clutching tightly at the heavy canvas of his uniform.
The raw, frantic need building within Paddy fully erupted. He didn't have the patience for the delicate silk of your white dress, nor the fragile illusion of modern restraint. With a low, guttural grunt that echoed off the high vaulted ceilings of the locked church, his massive, calloused hand moved up from your thigh. He violently tossed the heavy fabric of your bodice aside, the threads straining and tearing under his brute, unyielding strength.
The cool, stale air of the church hit your bare skin for a split second before his heavy palm replaced it. He grabbed your breast with a rough, proprietary grip, his split, dirt-caked knuckles contrasting sharply against your pale skin. His fingers dug into the soft flesh, anchoring you flush against his chest, claiming you completely.
Paddy looked down for just a moment, his wild blue eyes dark and completely consumed by you.
Leaning down, he buried his face against your chest. He placed his wet, heavy mouth directly onto your nipple, his tongue swiping hungrily over the sensitive peak before his teeth nipped at it with a fierce, demanding pressure.
A loud, breathless moan tore from your throat, the sound sharp and echoing sacrilegiously through the quiet nave. Your fingers dug deep into the rigid canvas of his uniform shoulders, your back arching off the cold marble of the altar as a wave of intense heat flooded your body. The smell of wild flowers and lake water flared drastically in the air, thick and suffocating, completely trapping the battle-hardened commander in your web as he fed on your skin.
You could feel the deep, heavy heat pooling between your thighs, the slick moisture flowing freely as your body completely yielded to his roughness. You grab his shoulders and tangled your fingers into his short, sweat-dampened hair, arching your head back as a desperate gasp escaped your lips.
Paddy didn't waste a single second. Driven by the primal fog of the spell, he slid his heavy, calloused hand down your stomach and slipped it directly between your legs. His rough fingers made instant, burning contact with your dripping heat.
He froze for a fraction of a second, his thumb sweeping over you, before he let out a raw, low chuckle that vibrated right against your bare chest. Looking down, a dark, wicked grin broke across his rugged face as he realized the truth. You weren't wearing any panties under that heavy white dress. You had been waiting for him exactly like this.
"Fucking hell," Paddy growled, his voice a gravelly, breathy rasp of pure, unadulterated lust.
The last remnant of his military control vanished. He grabbed your body with his massive, bruising hands, lifting you effortlessly before laying you down flat on top of the cold, sacred marble altar. The contrast of the freezing stone against your burning, bare skin made you shudder, your eyes flying open to lock onto his wild, unhinged blue gaze.
Paddy loomed over you, his chest heaving, his hands roughly parting your thighs and pinning your knees back to expose you completely to the dim candlelight. He looked down at what he had uncovered, his jaw clenching as he took a ragged breath.
"Ah, I choose good," you muttered darkly, a predatory smirk touching his lips as his hand went down to the buttons of his uniform trousers, ready to take exactly what you had promised him.
He was eating you like an animal, completely feral, driven by a raw, unhinged hunger that possessed his entire body. He's warm tongue was everywhere, he's was kissing, licking and slurping your pussy. From time to time he put aggressive split of saliva and spread it with his hands. He was consuming you as if your slick, honeyed warmth was the only thing keeping him alive in a world full of ash and blood.
The pleasure was a blinding, suffocating wave. Whining loudly into the empty, vaulted space of the church, you reached down and grabbed his head, your fingers tangling desperately into his short, sweat-dampened hair. Your knuckles went white as you forced him down harder, pushing his face directly into your dripping heat, demanding he go deeper.
Paddy growled against your skin, a wet, muffled sound vibrating straight through your core. He mumbled something hot and incoherent—a string of rough Irish curses or broken praises, completely lost to the fog of his devotion.
He didn't stop the relentless, heavy stroke of his tongue, but his massive hand slid up from your thigh. Seeking to ruin you completely, he took two thick, calloused fingers and thrust them straight inside you.
"Ah!" Your breath hitched, your head snapping back against the marble as your internal muscles clamped tightly around him. The contrast of his rough, split knuckles stretching you open while his hot, wet tongue continued to ruthlessly lap at your clit was too much. You arched violently, your hips jerking against his hand as the thick, intoxicating scent of wild flowers and dark lake water flared to a suffocating peak, drowning the last of Blair Mayne's soul in your spell.
Your first orgasm came like a sudden, violent hurricane, ripping through your body with a force that made the world spin. Your back arched completely off the cold marble altar, every muscle in your frame locking tight as wave after wave of intense, blinding heat crashed through your hips. A loud, breathless cry tore from your throat, echoing through the high, vaulted ceilings of the locked church. You could feel him drinking from you, his heavy, wet mouth greedily swallowing down the slick, sweet moisture of your release as your body shuddered against his face.
Paddy didn't let you rest for a single second. The taste of you only drove him further into the deep, hypnotic fog of your spell. He stood up abruptly, his massive frame towering over you. His blue eyes were completely dark, wild, and consumed by pure devotion. Leaning over your trembling body, he crashed his mouth down onto yours, kissing you with your own slick, sweet taste still wet on his lips, demanding you share the pleasure he had just taken from you.
"More," you confessed against his mouth, your voice a breathless, demanding whisper. You didn't want the warmth to stop. Driven by a possessive hunger of your own, you spread your legs wide across the altar, inviting him back in, offering your dripping, swollen heat to his gaze.
Paddy let out a raw, low growl, a dark, dangerous smirk twisting his rugged features as he looked down at your exposed, inviting body. He made a rough, filthy comment about how wet you were, his gravelly Irish lilt thick with unadulterated lust.
"You're a greedy little witch, aren't you?" he rasped, his voice a threatening rumble that vibrated through your chest. "You want to ruin me completely."
Without breaking eye contact, his heavy, calloused hands left your thighs and dropped straight to his waist. His fingers, still slick with your moisture, started to aggressively unbuckle his heavy military belt and unbutton his uniform pants.
He didn't waste another second. Driven entirely by the feral fog of your spell, Paddy loomed over you, his massive chest heaving as he gripped your thighs and pinned your legs back over his broad shoulders. He leaned over your trembling frame, pinning you flat against the cold marble altar once more, before aligning himself with your slick, dripping heat.
With a single, heavy surge of his hips, he slipped his dick straight inside you.
He was big—impossibly thick and unyielding—filling you completely until your internal muscles stretched to their absolute limit. You hadn't felt anything like this since ancient times, back when the world was wild and men were feral enough to match the dark nature of you.
A breathless, choked gasp tore from your throat, your fingers instantly digging deep into the rigid canvas of his uniform shirt to anchor yourself.
Instinctively, you bucked your hips against his, welcoming the invading weight, and felt him drive even deeper inside you. He buried himself to the absolute hilt, his heavy pelvis slamming hard against yours with a dull, bruising thud that echoed sacrilegiously through the quiet nave.
Paddy let out a low, guttural groan that rumbled right against your lips, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as he took a ragged breath. The thick, intoxicating scent of wild flowers and dark lake water flared drastically in the air, wrapping around his senses like a physical weight, anchoring him deep inside the trap you had set for him. He was completely yours now, a lethal weapon entirely surrendered to your touch.
"-you so soft," he moaned directly into your lips, his voice a gravelly, broken wreck of an Irish lilt. The words were completely crushed beneath the sheer weight of his arousal.
He didn't wait for a response. Paddy completely lost himself to the ancient, intoxicating fog, and he began brutally fucking you. Every stroke was hard, fast, and relentlessly deep, his massive pelvis hammering against yours with a raw, bruising force that made the cold marble altar shake beneath your back.
The sheer, animalistic violence of his pace caught you off guard. For a split second, your practiced temptation was gone; your mind went completely blank, and you didn't even know what to say.
But you were no helpless prey. The ancient, dark entity inside you roared back to life, refusing to be dominated, even by the deadliest captain in the British army.
Reaching up with sudden, supernatural strength, you grabbed his broad, sweat-slicked shoulders. With a powerful, unexpected twist of your hips, you forcefully rolled him over, pinning his massive frame flat onto his back against the sacred stone of the altar.
Paddy let out a sharp, breathless grunt as his head hit the marble, his wild blue eyes wide and completely disoriented as the tables turned in a single heartbeat.
"You will be my sacrifice," you said, your voice dropping to a dark, chillingly possessive register that echoed sacrilegiously through the high vaulted ceilings of the locked church.
For one fleeting second, Paddy’s battle-hardened brain couldn't process what you meant. His thoughts were a strange, chaotic blur of pleasure and confusion. But before he could even form a question, you sat directly on him.
You aligned yourself and sank completely onto his cock, taking every single inch of his thick, unyielding length back inside you until your pelvic bones slammed together. A breathless gasp escaped your lips as you adjusted to the massive stretch, and without giving him a moment to breathe, you started to ride him.
You arched your back, your pale skin gleaming under the spiked golden halo as you bounced, grinding your hips down in a fierce, demanding rhythm that claimed him completely.
"—ohhh, Lord, like that!" Paddy shattered, a loud, uninhibited roar tearing from his throat. His large, calloused hands shot up to grip your waist with a bruising strength, his fingers digging deep into your skin to try and control the agonizingly perfect friction as you rode him like a queen on her throne.
"—ohh, a Protestant and a believer?"
You laughed, a dark, melodic sound that mocked his desperate cry. Without giving him a moment to recover, you started to ride him like a wild animal. Your hips rolled with a wicked, fluid momentum, catching him at an angle that drove his thick length directly against your sweet spot with every single downward stroke. Paddy’s eyes blew wide, a ragged, breathless groan tearing from his throat as your internal walls clamped around him. He gripped your hips with a bruising, white-knuckled strength, trying to lift you, trying to match your frantic, unhinged pace.
The saintly, sacred place was now completely a place for dark desire. Your uninhibited moans and his deep, animalistic grunts became a sacrilegious melody echoing off the ancient stone walls, drowning out centuries of quiet prayers.
"Hell is empty, and all the demons are here," Paddy quoted, the words of William Shakespeare ripping from his chest in a rough, gravelly rasp.
You let out a loud, breathless moan, the sheer poetry of his submission making you squeeze him impossibly tight from the inside. The sudden, crushing friction pushed him right over the edge of his sanity. Driven by a sudden spike of survival instinct and raw aggression, Paddy’s massive hand shot up to your throat. He gripped your neck and squeezed it, choking off your air just enough to make your vision blur with white-hot sparks of pleasure.
You arched your back violently under the spiked golden halo, your throat tight, feeling his thick dick pulse inside you as it started milking you for everything he had.
But as your head snapped back and the choking grip forced your true essence to the surface, the illusion fractured. Paddy looked up through the dim, flickering candlelight—and then he saw it. The pale, innocent face of the girl vanished, replaced for a terrifying second by the raw, elongated fangs and nasty image, eyes completely black and hollow.
Absolute terror struck the battle-hardened commander's heart for the first time in his life. But it was too late to pull away.
With a final, violent surge, Paddy came inside you, his body shuddering violently as he poured his seed deep into your core. At the exact same moment, you exploded, a powerful, crushing orgasm ripping through your hips. As the fluid released, the monstrous visage receded, and you instantly came back into your beautiful, fragile girl form.
Paddy, breathing like a dying man, aggressively tossed your form off his body, shoving you back onto the marble as he scrambled away. He sat up on the altar, his uniform disheveled, his chest heaving as he stared at you with wild, sweating panic.
"What the fuck are you?!" he roared, his hand instinctively reaching for his discarded gun, though his fingers were shaking too hard to grip it.
You giggled, the sweet, innocent sound completely contrasting the horror he had just witnessed. Crawling forward on the marble like a cat, you looked closely at his terrified face and leaned in, lightly licking the sweat and dirt from his cheek.
"Told you... I am what you wanted me to be," you giggled, your voice a soft, mocking purr.
Slowly, effortlessly, you slid off the sacred stone and walked away from the altar, the fabric of your white dress swaying around your ankles. Paddy sat frozen on the stone, looking completely shocked and undone as he watched you move toward the shadows of the side chapel.
"I was going to kill you," She rasped, her voice rough.You stopped, turning your head to look back at him over your shoulder. "
Paddy sneered, his jaw clenching as he tried to ground himself. "Cause you don't have a soul, Paddy Mayne," you answered for him, a dark, teasing smirk playing on your lips. "You're too dirt for me."
"Is that so?" Paddy muttered, his blue eyes tracking your every movement as the darkness of the church seemed to stretch toward you. "Where you going? Will I see you again?"
"Only in your dark nightmares, soldier," you giggled.
Paddy blinked, shaking his head to clear the heavy, suffocating scent of the lake and wild flowers from his lungs. But when his eyes opened, your presence was completely gone. The side chapel was empty, the iron gate still locked, leaving the lethal SAS commander entirely alone in the quiet, defiled church with nothing but the fading scent of honey and his own ruined mind.
