I’m told he is a dangerous man, and my mind, body and soul don’t care. He is already living in my head. I would walk through fire for him. I don’t think he even knows it. Every time I see him, he walks like a polished weapon. Harlan is at my brother’s garage; I need to see him, even if looking is all I get to do. It’s been years of me wanting him. I walk across the concrete, and his eyes meet mine. He takes my breath away. His muscles are tight, and his body is smeared with oil in all the right places, evidence of hard work. My body aches for him, and my vision blurs. I’ve come to see my brother. It's hard to concentrate when I know Harlan's eyes are on me.

Those dark, dangerous eyes that I want to be lost in. I continue to walk. My dress blows in the wind. I hear the drop of a utensil. Perhaps that’s my opening. I walk over to him, and I pick it up. I pass it to him, and as soon as our hands meet, I can feel the spark. I have to bite my tongue to stop my mouth from betraying me. Keep it together, I tell myself. My body has a will that is no longer mine. I want to scream for him. I know he won’t touch me; he has committed to my brother loyally. I have committed his body to my memory, longing for his touch. My fingers scrape along his; the warmth is unbearable. I look to the ground, hoping it would swallow me. His hand lifts my chin so I am lost in his gaze.

“You alright, Delilah?” His voice is deep and throaty; he doesn’t look like someone innocent; he looks like danger wrapped in control and restraint. He is an enforcer; I wouldn’t expect any less.

I look at him, and I’m so far away I’ve already gone; I know I have fallen. I have heard of his reputation. It makes my mind wander off into situations it really shouldn’t. I’ve written many things over the years. His voice reaches every nerve I didn’t know I had. Dear God, let me find a fault, anything to not feel like this. This is torture.

I catch him looking at my brother, then back to me, as if he knows he is not to cross the line. He stands and helps me up from the ground. I feel flushed and this hunger I know will be forever. My chest is going to explode. Say something, for God’s sake; he is finally talking to you, not standing like a protective shadow. I’m still blown away that he has called me by my name; he usually sticks to princess. I am now princess to this man, and I don’t even know if he wants me. I want this man to be my own. His grip on my hand hasn’t left my mind. His eyes investigate every inch of my face with calculated concern, and he slides hair behind my ears. I don’t have the words. Now he is a permanent feature in my mind, especially when I am alone.

“I’m alright,” I lie. My heart is going ten to the dozen; my breathing is rapid, and I can't look away from his eyes. I see him smile and tilt his head. I am lost in this beautiful ache.

“Harlan, we have a job,” I hear my brother call from the office, “now.” His voice is stern. I see them talking and arguing about something. Arms in the air but no contact.

Harlan stays for a while after that at my brother's. I stay for a weekend, and it's torture. Each time I see him, I slip further. I whisper his name in the darkness like it’s mine. I try to stop myself, but I want him anyway, and I have already lost my own control; every time I get the chance, I slip my hands between my legs. Part of me already knows what this is. He says my name in the daylight, and it feels like the perfect poison, breaking through my heart.

This didn’t ask my permission. This broke down all the walls and feels like the sickest twist of fate. Having something close enough to want it, touch it, taste it, yet not be allowed to follow through. Every thought I take leads me to him. I feel him watching me when he thinks I can’t.

That’s when it started: the business trips got longer, more frequent, and I believe I did something wrong. Every time he is back, all he does is watch me and breathe me in; he is a frequent visitor in my dreams and my diary. Some of those entries should never see the light of day. I should absolutely have someone burn them the day of my death. Anyway, it’s years later, and I am still in the same predicament, wishing for something I don’t think I can have. He has left an invisible mark that I can’t shift and don’t want to.

I receive an invitation to a Buren ball. I ask Alice if she'll join me, but she refuses; however, she helps me with my costume. Finally, I think he has the guts to take me somewhere out in public. When I get there, someone takes me to the corner, and I am willing to go. It doesn’t go well. I leave for home utterly disappointed, and my brother says he has some of the guys over for the night. I know who will be there; let the torturous haunting begin.

It wasn’t Harlan at the ball. He is with my brother, and now I feel so stupid for even thinking that the Ball situation would present itself in the first place. All I want is him; all I breathe is him, and I have to tread carefully because the way I feel could be classed as stalking. I can feel myself; I am going to lose my grip on myself, and it won’t take much to push me over the edge.

Walking back from the Buren ball, heels in hand and make it up the gravel path to the house. I am glad it’s dry, at least, even though my feet ache a little on the gravel. My brother is having his own party. This is where the fridge is stocked with plenty of beer for a few of his close friends. I already know that Harlan will be there, since he wasn’t at the ball. He is the leader; they come to our house because it’s bigger.

It’s no secret now that I like him except for my brother and Harlan. I think he is oblivious; he keeps saying I am his kid sister. The feelings I have for him are not very sisterly. When he calls me princess, that’s a completely different sensation altogether. I make it to the door, and as soon as I walk in, I see him sitting, watching me. I slip into different shoes and put the deathtraps in the shoe rack. Further in, I can smell him. I walk to the fridge, feeling his eyes on me all the way there. It has been a while since I’ve seen him; he is usually upstate working on business that I know nothing about. I still remember the times he would watch me and not say anything, yet make me feel so safe.

“How was your party, princess?” Harlan asks, and my stomach drops at the sound of his deep voice. If that wasn’t enough to get me going, his body is sensational. Snap out of it, I say to myself. What was the question?  I search my mind again. I may as well be honest.

“The Ball was awful; some guy was a pest,” I start, my voice breaking a little. “That’s why I came home earlier. I am glad you are here,” I say. I watch him as his jaw tightens, and I catch a glimpse of his eyes; they have gone dark as he sets down his beer with a loud clack on the table.

Now all the guys in the room have stopped to take notice of our conversation. In one swift motion, he rises from the sofa and moves towards me. The butterflies in my stomach flutter wildly; I know I shouldn’t want him as I do. Just looking at him, walking like sex on legs, damn it.

“Who was he?” Harlan demands, his tone low, rough and protective. This makes me melt as I watch the others shift with obvious discomfort. I see my brother is becoming more uncomfortable by the second. I open the fridge and grab myself a beer. Pop the lid and have one sip; it's not enough to remove the stench of tension in the air. I see Harlan still standing with his shirt unbuttoned just a little. Why does he do this to me? Does he even know? Just by looking at him, my body feels like it is full of burning poison, and he’s the only one with the antidote. His touch is not all I crave; I want to feel that heat. I am lost in my mind for a moment, then I finally remember the question.

“I don’t know who he was; he was just a sleaze and eventually very handsy,” I say and have another sip as I put a little more distance between us. I watch Harlan reach for the counter and hold it until his knuckles go white. This is really a bother to him. I see it all over his face. I hand him a beer.

“Handsy?” he asks in a dangerously low voice. “Did he touch you?”

I hear my brother clear his throat as the others look like they are ready to leave. Harlan steps forward, closing the space between us; his eyes sweep over my body. “Show me.”

I already know I am squirming on the spot. I feel I should lie, but something else deep down is telling me that lying to him now would be the maddest idea.

“I was stuck in the corner of the hall and I...” I contemplate telling him more, the whole truth. I look around the room for something else to distract me from what I really want. I have another drink and hope the marks aren’t that noticeable. “It’s nothing; I’ve had worse. I swear,” I say. I see his whole body go rigid. The new beer bottle in his hand cracks slightly under his grip. His eyes go dark with rage. He moves forward like a predator closing the remaining distance with prey.

“Let me see. Now.” His voice is low. My brother has finally caught up on what has happened. The others are already making excuses not to be here. “Don’t lie to me, princess. I can see it in your face that he grabbed your wrist.” His large hands come toward me, his palms up, his blue eyes looking, waiting. “Show me,” he demands in a growl. I place my beer on the countertop and reluctantly show him the marks. I didn’t know he cared this much. If he only knew what I really want.

As the others make their exits. I feel his touch on my wrist; it feels like a comfort drowning in punishment, making me feel more than I should. I can feel myself getting wet. I wonder if he knows it. I see him smile. This makes me more nervous and excited.

“It’s nothing, really. I‘m fine,” I say, still very aware that he has not let me go. His thumb traces the slight bruise, and I whimper. He looks at me with danger in his eyes while his pupils are as small as pinholes. Good lord, I need air. This is a bad idea, him being so close. My body reacts like a sucker for punishment.

“Nothing, huh?” Harlan asks, his voice carrying an undertone of amusement. I feel flushed as heat travels up my neck. My breathing changes, and my hands begin to perspire. His eyes never leave me as my heart races in my chest. “You are a terrible liar, princess.” He releases his gentle grip; his fingers trace mine with tenderness. Fuck, I already feel like I miss him. I don’t think I can take this pain any longer. Why can’t he see this? This burn, this ache, the desperate, unfiltered need that I have for him. I drink more beer. His eyes are still watching, waiting for more information. I look around the room; my brother is lost in his phone, and everyone else has left.

“I thought it was you for a moment; that’s why I went,” I say with instant regret. My feelings for him will be all over my face. I can’t get my head out of the gutter. It’s a sin; I don’t even know if he would. How I long for him to pin me down with those arms in front of anyone. To have him take my breath away. Oh god, I feel like I am going to burst. I down the beer and turn to look out the window with more pent-up sexual frustration than ever. The things I want him to do to me should never be uttered in the daylight. I feel him close behind me, and all I can smell is his cologne, which is driving my insides wild. I feel the heat radiating from him, wrapping me like an invisible cloak.

“You thought it was me?” he asks in a low tone. “That’s why you went, because deep down you were hoping...” His voice trails off, and I know I will never hear the end of that sentence; he has no idea what my mind is hoping for. “Your brother is in the other room,” he states as if that is the invisible boundary line he is fighting not to cross. I take a breath; he does know. I am being so foolish. Being this close is like breathing fire; I feel him pull me closer into his large, muscular arms, and all I can think about are his lips on mine. I turn slightly and look into his eyes.

“You are more to me than you realise. I want you to do unspeakable things with me, and I don’t even care if anyone catches us. I can’t take it. I crave you more than I crave air. I want to be bold. I want to know what you feel. I am so far past the line; all I can breathe is you. I can’t forget you. I don’t want to,” I say, gripping his shirt so tightly that I see more tattoos, reconsidering whether I should have had that beer. He is burning me up from the inside out. I’m already drowning in him. I can tell that I have piqued his interest, and I feel his warm thumb slowly trace my lips, trying to make sure the words came from me. He's soaking up my confession and considering whether I get a Hail Mary when what I really want is to be taken by him, taken all the way. I’ve waited for him. He looks at me as if I am the only person in the world. His touch makes me feel like I will blissfully burn.

“I am not a good man; I’m dangerous,” he whispers while rubbing my cheek. I am lost to him in more ways than I can count.

“I don’t care.” I feel my hands wander his chest. I see the glint in his eyes.

“You should,” he groans, that deep rumble sets my soul on fire.

“But I don’t. I breathe for you,” I whisper. Not leaving his gaze, I feel his heart race.

“This is a bad idea,” he says in a whisper.

“The best bad idea I’ve had,” I say quietly, full of promise. My heart is racing.

“You’re killing me, princess,” he states with a crack in his deep voice. His hands grip my ribs as he pulls me closer. Desire mounts in his eyes like a volcano ready to explode. The pit in my stomach continues to grow; I bite my lower lip in frustration. He watches everything, his eyes on my lips; I know the damage is done. “Your brother is less than twenty feet away,” he states, another acknowledgement that the present line is slowly becoming ash, “and you can’t say things like that and expect me to think straight,” he says as he lowers his head. I know we are now lost within the same cave of torment, breathing the same fiery ash-filled air; he lifts my gaze to his own. “Tell me you mean it,” he growls low and grips me tighter. I can’t back down now.

“I mean every single word. I want you to push me up against the wall, take me rough, take me slow, I want you to make me breathless. Tell me what you want to do with me, don’t lie,” I say as I move my hand on his chest, and I feel his strong heart. “I’m not the little princess you see me as; I want you to please every inch of my body as you wish. I can’t take this anymore; I can’t make you want me the same way… that I want you. But I need something. Anything.” I panic, already feeling as if I have definitely said far too much this time. There is no going back under the rock now. His hands reach dominantly around the back of my neck. His eyes lock on mine.

"Don’t make me beg for you,” I whisper. I see something in him break. I try to look away; how could I have been so foolish? I feel his grip tighten around my neck as if he may claim my lips and make me forget myself. He makes me face him, and his eyes are dark, dangerous, something I have never seen before.

“You think I don’t want you the same way?” he asks, and the low growl radiates through me like thunder. His fingers slide down my back and pull me closer. “Princess, I’ve been wanting you since the day you turned eighteen. Every. Single. Day.” His thumb brushes my cheek. “But your brother is in this house, and you deserve better than a quick fuck against the wall while he is in the next room.” He pauses, still glued to my eyes. “You deserve to be worshiped properly. And I am gonna do exactly that, but on my terms. When I can take my time with you.” He smiles. “What do you need right now?” he asks as if nothing has a limit. I know exactly what I want, and my mind is lost on the word fuck that passed his lips.

“I want you to take me to your cottage. I want your hands all over me. I want you,” I say as I start feeling around his pockets for the keys to the truck. I brush his cock; I see fire spark behind his eyes. I can see his restraint waning. I feel that I have woken a forbidden animal. It’s too late to go back; all or nothing, I think.

“I want this,” I say. I guide one of his hands under my dress so he can feel how aroused I am. His pupils dilate. A low rumble escapes him as his fingers curl around my moist heat; his breathing becomes ragged.

“Fuck, princess,” he whispers as he removes his hand and places it on my hip. His face is full of raw desire and a control in him I haven’t seen. “The keys are on the counter.” His voice is strained. “Go get them, walk to the truck. Don’t look back,” he says, taking a step back from me. I look at him, slightly puzzled. “Because if you test me right now, princess. I’m taking you right here on the countertop. Where your brother will hear every single sound you make, every beg, each whimper while your body pleads to have my cock buried deep within. And princess...” He tilts my chin towards his gaze. “Those sounds are for me alone,” he says with authority.

I remove my hand from his pocket. A sudden rush of excitement washes over me; my hands reach around his neck. I pull him down for a kiss; our lips meet, and his hands on my body tighten around me, making me lost with absolute passion. I am reluctant to let go. But I do, and I grab the keys. They slip out of my hand. Without thinking, I bend over to pick them up. I hear a low, raw groan of frustration behind me. I don’t look back.

“I’ll meet you at the truck,” I whisper, hoping that wasn’t testing his resolve too much. I hear the countertop wood crack a little.

“Go. Now,” he whispers.

I make my way to the truck. Minutes later, Harlan enters the truck, wearing his leather jacket, framing his shoulders even more. I watch as one hand grips the wheel and his knuckles go white. “Are you ready for this, princess?” he asks, as if now I would change my mind. I smile. I nod my head. I don’t have a choice; I need him. My heart sings for him. He starts the engine and pulls out of the driveway; I know tonight is the night. The beginning of the change. I long for something I have never had, and this journey may be a ten-minute journey, but it feels like forever.

I have waited at least two years for this to happen. I am surprised that this didn’t happen sooner. When I turned eighteen, I would have welcomed it then. After my birthday party. All he did then was watch me. Making sure my nights went alright, as well as holding my hair back when needed. Then he went away a lot for his family business. Now I think about how else he could be holding my hair, and it makes me wetter. I squirm in the seat, causing me to moan a little.

The drive is not a long one; every chance he gets, he glares at me with yearning. Now I understand; he needs this as much as I do. Harlan pulls up in the drive and turns the engine off. My heart skips a beat. I watch him walk around the truck slowly, deliberately. I unbuckle my belt, and he opens the door. When I step out, I am aware of his stature more so than before. I glance at his trousers, and it seems the drive over here with sexual anticipation did nothing to dampen his spirits.

I trip into his arms, and he carries me to the cottage without a single word. The heat builds up within me effortlessly. Harlan kicks the door shut with his foot once we enter; he places me on the varnished wooden floor. His frame blocks the moonlight from entering through the window. His thumbs brush my cheeks with a tenderness that doesn’t help the tingles running through my body. He turns on some dim lights.

“I want you to do naughty things to me; tell me what is first?” I ask as I look around, adjusting to the light. I feel him walking behind me. His hand grasps my neck, firm yet gentle, like a stage closer to sweet sin. I feel his hot breath on my neck.

“First, I am going to savour every inch of you slowly,” he whispers in my ear, and I gasp for my breath. His words vibrate my soul. His fingers trace down my neck and collarbone. “Then I am going to tie you to my bed and show you exactly what two years of restraint looks like, princess,” he says in a deep, rough tone.

I could slide across the floor right now. I'm that wet, and I am speechless. I look in his eyes; I don’t know what to say. I see the raw hunger that has always been there. He places his hand under my chin so I can’t look away.

“But right now? Princess, I need to hear you say my name when you come,” he states calmly; I feel I have swallowed my tongue as he leads me to the bedroom. I’m shocked I can even walk right now.

There is a danger in the stillness of the air. His eyes are on me, burning through my veins. Harlan lifts me onto the bed.

“Now there is only one more rule.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” I ask. He looks at me so seriously, like a caged animal about to be released into the wild.

“You belong to me.” His eyes are fixed on mine, waiting for an answer.

“Yes,” I say. He smiles. His hands wrap around my ankles, squeeze tight and pull me down the bed. My stomach flips. I see seriousness in his eyes.

“That wasn’t a question, princess,” he states. “Say it!”

“Harlan, I belong to you.”

“Good. Now remember that when my face is between your legs, because that’s what you will be saying the moment you come,” he states.

I think I am a full-blown river right now. Harlan kneels, his hands slide up my legs, and he removes my underwear. He kisses and licks his way up my thigh “You taste like sin, princess,” he says, his voice muffled on my thigh. I hear him breathing me in; his eyes look at me with danger. “Tell me you want this,” he says, not a question. I feel it more as a demand wrapped in utter devotion, a check. I nod my head, knowing I want this more than I realise, I can hardly breathe. His hands remove my knickers carefully from my hips and down my legs. Harlan kisses his way back up towards me, each kiss longer than the last; my heart is racing in my chest. I’ve never been in this position before, and I am holding the words in my mouth.

Then I feel it; his tongue traces a slow, precise path, and the sensation is insatiable with utter control. It feels like heavenly torture. My heart quickens in excitement, waiting for the first contact, and he slowly finds the exact spot that makes my back arch on the bed, as my hands grasp the sheets. I hear a low groan from him, pleased with what he makes my body do.

“That’s it, princess, let me hear you,” he says as his hands tighten their grip on my thighs, pulling me to exactly the position he wants me to be. His tongue becomes relentless, a deliberate delivery of calculated motions driving me higher and higher. My breathing gets faster as he continues to build a heat in me. My body tightens; he pulls back for a bit, looking at me with his dark, hungry eyes.

“Come for me, princess. I want to feel it,” he says. His mouth goes right back to where he left off with a newfound intensity that I am struggling to grasp. Every motion a sin I crave. His tongue now becomes my single-minded obsession, feeding the flame. I feel the tremors start and an unknown heat travels through my body as it clenches around emptiness. I feel him groan against me. His grip tightens on my thighs as he satisfies his hunger, while his tongue treasures my body in tight circles and the storm grows. I close my eyes.

“Look at me now,” Harlan demands.

I can do nothing more than watch him ravish my all. The pulse in my chest echoes in my ears, and I feel like I am going to fall; his hand holds me to the bed effortlessly. I try to move farther up; I am pulled back down; this is excruciatingly torturous and blissful all at the same time. His tongue swirls and licks with deliberate intent, driving my body deeper into a tornado. I gasp for breath as his fingers softly caress me and enter me rhythmically; I tremble like I have nothing but chaos left to lose.

“Say it,” he demands in a groan that vibrates against me, tipping me right over the edge.

“Oh, God! Harlan, I… belong… to you.” The words pass my lips in a staggered fashion, and he groans deeply. I can't believe what he is making my body do by his touch and his touch alone. His tongue doesn’t relent. The pressure becomes almost unbearable, pushing me over the edge. My back arches. I grasp the sheets for purchase as the sparking hot waves build and build through me. His grip gets tighter, and his tongue prolongs every second of my release while the pleasure crashes through every fibre I have. Harlan stays right there, relishing each spasm, tremor, gasp and involuntary sound I make. He pulls his head away slowly when I finally start to come back down to earth.

“You’re mine now. Princess,” he states with a rough edge to his tone. I can’t believe what just happened. The first pleasure given by a male.

“I don’t want to be anyone else’s. All I want is you. Now, Harlan, show me what two years of restraint looks like,” I request as I take my light blue dress off over my head. I watch him rise from between my legs like I just gave him a dangerously dirty dare. His shirt comes off, revealing scars and a tattooed, muscular work of art underneath. I take a deep breath. I see him smile.

“Two years, princess,” he says low as he unbuckles his belt, the leather sliding free. The trousers follow, and I see it, completely exposed and hard. He climbs farther onto the bed, and I feel like I am now a caged animal; his eyes are looking at me like I am his prey. I know there is nowhere else I would rather be.