Overview

Obsessed with the stone sentry gargoyles keeping silent vigil on the rooftops of ages old churches, Yvette discovers one that draws on her darkest and most repressed feelings.
Drawn in more ways than one.

Warning: Dark Erotica, 18 or over please. This story has explicit sexual situations and dark overtones.

Excerpt:

He licked at his lips again and one hand unclenched, sliding over his stomach until he gripped himself with a less than tender tug, making me shiver again at the power in his hands.
“I have been asleep for too long, and my need is more than you will accept,” he said and opened his eyes to glare down at me. “I would claim you my way and overwhelm you in my passion to satisfy myself. And yet here you stand, scenting the air in your sweet arousal.”
I could feel the deep ache inside of me flare at his words.
It was wrong to want it.
He was right; he would probably crush me, rip me in two, or violate me in ways that I couldn’t even fathom. But my body lit up at the thought, the baser urges taking over at the idea of him having his way with me.
I wanted it, no matter how wrong it was.
I had always wanted more.
“Do not look at me with your lust, girl,” he hissed and visibly shivered as he inhaled again. “You will regret it.”
“No,” I said and stepped closer, my decision clear. “I want this.”

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