I rifle through the wardrobe, eventually stumbling upon a purple dress. It’s short, shorter than anything I would normally wear, but I want to feel sexy, confident. I want to tempt. I zip myself into the dress, grateful it has a side zipper instead of a back one. The material is tight and strapless, hugging my hips and pushing my breasts up. When I look in the mirror, turning this way and that, I’m happy with the fit. I take the time to dry my hair, twisting the strands around my finger to give it a wave. It’s the best I can do without a curling iron.

I find a pair of black heels in the wardrobe, too. They’re easily five inches, giving me the height that’ll bring me more level to the Hatter. I slip them on, fastening the little buckles on the side. I check myself in the mirror again and sigh. What am I doing? I’m dolling myself up for the Mad Hatter while I’m stuck in a twisted version of Wonderland. Oh! And I’ve almost died about four times now. And yet, all I seem to care about is if the Hatter will like the outfit or not. I brush away the thoughts, huffing at their direction. I’m not going to worry about the insanity of my situation right now. I’m going to focus on what I want and right now, that’s the Hatter.

I walk from the room, heading for the stairs. The dress rides up, barely concealing the important bits. I tug at it nervously. My normal wardrobe consists of pant suits and pencil skirts. I haven’t worn something this short since college, but I see the benefits. I feel sexy and confident. I feel powerful.

The sound of my heels clacking against the floor echoes throughout the house as I carefully step down the staircase. Dormouse is nowhere to be seen. I strain my ears for any noise, but I hear nothing. It’s eerily quiet, like I’m the only one home. Perhaps everyone disappears when the Hatter is in one of his moods.

I push open the doors of the ballroom, their creaking making me grimace. Good way to announce I’m coming in, I suppose. My eyes immediately go to the Hatter’s chair, and I deflate when I find it empty. Sighing, I slowly make my way towards the end of the table, trailing my hand over the backs of the mismatched chairs. When I reach the Hatter’s, I stare at it, admiring it. It’s huge, more a throne than a simple chair. It’s a matte black color, the arms and back carved with intricate designs of grotesque creatures and skulls. At the end of the arms, there’s two skulls, perfectly placed to add an extra bit of menace. The cushions are a velvet purple material and look comfortable. The chair is scuffed up and worn, but it doesn’t detract from it’s impact. I suppose it makes sense for the Hatter to have a throne. He’s the King of Tea Time, after all.

I tug my skirt down and sit in the chair, attempting to get comfortable. The tea cups in front of me are empty, the cakes normally piled on the plates are gone. I guess those are saved for actual tea parties. I never realized they aren’t here all the time. I cross my legs and stare at the empty cups, my thoughts running away with possibility.

The prophecy states I will be the one to bring down the Knave and win the Hatter’s heart, but it doesn’t say what I’m supposed to do after that. Am I supposed to stay in Wonderland and forget my old life? What about my clients, my job . . . . I stop myself. What do I really have to go back to? Sure, I have a job I love, but that’s it. I have no real friends, no family. I chose to focus on work, instead. I don’t have anyone to tie me down, my parents long since having passed away. I don’t even have a pet to worry about since I work such long hours. What do I really, honestly have to go back to? Do I even want to go back?

I’m so lost in thought, I don’t hear anyone enter the ballroom. I’m taken completely by surprise when a hand comes from nowhere and wraps around my neck. I freeze but the hand doesn’t tighten. It doesn’t hurt me. When the Hatter steps into view beside me, I realize exactly why that is. I look up at him in awe. He isn’t wearing his normal jacket, only the top hat and his leather pants. The necklace he always wears dangles between his pecs. I eye his abs in appreciation before jerking my eyes back to his face.

“Why are you in my chair?” There’s a thread of menace in his voice that does things low in my belly.

“I was looking for you,” I breathe.

His eyes follow the movement of my chest, locked on the view of my breasts threatening to spill from the dress. His eyes darken when they take in the rest of my outfit, the barely there coverage, the skin I’m showing. The breath whistles from between his teeth. His jaw clenches.

“Stand up,” he commands, his hand leaving my neck.

I do as he says, wobbling a bit in the heels. The Hatter is eying me, setting a fire inside I have no desire to smother. He takes my place in his seat, getting comfortable before he reaches out and snags my wrist. He tugs until I step forward. He reaches out and effortlessly picks me up by my waist before placing me on his lap, my legs spread around his. The dress is so short, it has nowhere to go but up, and I can feel how exposed I am. Do I care? Not one bit. As I straddle his hips, his hands clench hard on my own, his eyes riveted to where my dress bunches up. His pupils dilate.

“Clara Bee, oh, Clara Bee, what is it you’re doing to me?” His voice is rough, tormented. When his eyes slam into mine, I smile.

I reach up and pluck the top hat from his head. I’m tempted to put it on again, to tease. Instead, I set it gently down in the closest chair. I wrap my arms around Hatter’s neck, my fingers tangling in the hair at his nape. I scrape my nails there, pleased when he shivers. I can feel his arousal between my legs, pressing against me. I just barely stop myself from rubbing on him like a cat.

I summon the little bit of bravery I had before I came downstairs and speak.

“Hatter, I’m in trouble it seems, I believe you promised to make me scream.” I stare deep into his eyes as I say it, so he doesn’t miss what I mean. I bite my lip when his quirk up into a smile.

His hands leave my hips, wrapping around me to grab my ass tight, pushing me down on his hardness. A breath whooshes out of me at the feeling of us grinding together. I use my nails a little harder on the back of his neck, and his hands spasm at my back side.

I throw any hesitation I had to the wind. I lean forward, trailing my tongue up his neck, kissing him along the way. He growls, the sound vibrating through his body as his hands grind me harder against him. The feeling is exquisite, but it’s not nearly enough. I want everything he can give me.

I trail my lips back down, stopping at the muscle between his shoulder and his neck. I hover there for a moment before biting down, hard, on the sensitive spot. Hatter snarls and then the world tilts. I’m confused until I hear the tea cups on the table scatter, hitting the floor and breaking into hundreds of pieces. More china suffers the same fate as Hatter lays me down on the wooden surface. He keeps my legs hooked around his waist as he looks at me, his hands spreading trails of fire as they caress my thighs. The necklace dangles down from his chest, floating above me. It has an odd symbol on it, but this isn’t the time to ask or study.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” His hands move from gentle to a little rough as he grabs me tight. He yanks on my body, the action slamming my core against his hardness. The only barriers are his pants and my lace thong. My breath stutters when he comes down on top of me. I try to wrap my arms around his neck, but he grips my wrists tight in his hand before pinning them above my head. He nips at my shoulders and neck, leaving behind little stings that he soothes with his tongue.

“Hatter,” I moan, rubbing against him.

He moves back enough to look down into my face, his eyes a bit wild.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his hesitation breaking through the moment. Even now, he worries about me.

“If you stop, I will never forgive you,” I groan.

He grins, leaning forward to capture my mouth in his. The kiss is fiery and passionate, all the built up emotions we’ve been putting off spilling past our lips. He keeps my hands pinned over my head, but his other hand slides up my side, before sliding along the neckline of the dress.

“Such a pretty dress,” he mumbles into my mouth right before he grips at my cleavage and pulls. He tugs with such force, the dress rips down the middle, but it doesn’t come off. It only rips enough to reveal my breasts. The purple material stays wrapped around my middle, the skirt having long since ridden up my waist. “Better.” He palms my breasts in his hand, his fingers pinching my nipple. I moan into his mouth, breathing hard. I shift, trying to rub against what I want, but he moves away, leaving a gap between us. I groan in protest. “Patience, Clara Bee,” he teases. “I’ve waited a long time for you.” He take his hand from my wrists but not before he mutters a stern, “Don’t move.”

He slides down my body, his hands caressing. He pauses over my breasts before leaning forward and catching one nipple between his lips.

“Oh,” I moan, my thighs clenching around him.

He releases it with a pop before continuing down. When I think he’s going to keep trailing kisses, he pulls from between my legs and sits down completely. I lift my head and look at him in confusion.

“What are you doing?” I ask, frowning at the loss of his weight.

His eyes trail over me, his angle letting him see everything, letting him see me laid out on the table.

“Admiring the view,” he replies, grinning. “If only tea time was this beautiful.” I blush, laying my head back down. “Look at you,” he continues, “all spread out in front of me like a feast.”

His words shoot to my core, and I try to close my thighs, to hide. It’s more instinct than anything else. His hands grab my knees, preventing me from closing them completely.

“Hatter.” My voice is husky, breathy.

He hums, his eyes crinkling as he notices my discomfort. His hands begin trailing up my legs, starting from the heels strapped to my feet. I never thought fingers lightly trailing across my ankles and then my calves would be such a turn on, but by the time his fingers reach my knees, I’m jelly in his hands.

“There’s a lot about me you probably don’t understand,” he says, pausing his movements when his fingers reach my knees. “There’s a lot that I don’t show to anyone.” His fingers move again, barely trailing up my inner thigh, moving excruciatingly slow. “I’m chaos, Clara Bee.” His eyes meet mine when I look at him again. “I’m chaos, and I’ll destroy you.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” I tell him, and it’s the truth. He’s intense and deadly, but he’s also mine, destined to be with me. I’m not afraid of him. I know him better than he thinks I do. His darkness calls to my own.

“You should be,” he replies, his fingers tracing the edge of my thong. “You should be afraid to be at my mercy.”

I smile at him, letting him see everything written on my face.

“Don’t hold back.” His eyes widen, surprised, but he moves past it quickly.

His face darkens as he slips beneath the lace, and his fingers finally, blessedly, touch exactly where I want him to. His eyes don’t leave mine as he slides into the slickness pooling between my thighs. My chest rises and falls fast, oxygen in short supply.

He reaches forward and rips the thong from me, the flimsy material snapping apart easily to leave me bare before him.

“So beautiful,” he says. He’s still sitting in the chair with me spread in front of him. I’m surprised when he leans forward. I cry out when his lips close around my clit, sucking hard. My hips lift from the table, and his hands reach up to slam them back down again, holding me against the surface while he feasts on me.

“Fuck,” I groan, my hands unable to stay above my head. I reach down and thread them through his hair. I knock another teacup off as I do, the shatter barely penetrating the haze of passion.

Hatter turns his head to the side and bites my inner thigh, making me jump in surprise.

“I told you not to move your hands,” he growls.

I throw my hands back over my head, gripping them tight. He licks up my seam slowly as a reward, alternating between nipping and using his tongue. One hand releases my hip and slips down, his finger sliding through the moisture while he focuses on my clit. The finger slips inside, and I mew. When he adds another, I begin moving, trying to get closer. I feel him grin against me.

“So impatient,” he chuckles before kissing my core. He stands, his fingers leaving me. I feel empty for a moment, but I don’t complain when I hear a zip. I look up at him, watching as he pushes his leather pants down to reveal his cock, standing proud. I bite my lip in anticipation. “Last chance, Clara Bee,” he says, his eyes heated as they trace my body. “If we do this, I’ll never get enough of you.”

“Don’t stop,” I whisper, meeting his eyes. “Give me everything.”

He growls. “You don’t want everything.”

“I do.” Our eyes stay locked. “I want everything you have to give. Hold nothing back.”

He growls again, the sound more savage than before, and he steps between my legs, hooking mine around his waist. I’m already hanging slightly off the edge of the table, at the perfect angle. I hold my breath as he lines up, his face wild, but he doesn’t push in, doesn’t give me what I want. I groan in frustration.

“Fuck me already,” I snarl.

That grin spreads across his face, the one that’s a tiny bit psycho. “There’s that darkness,” he says with glee. Then he slams inside of me, and I scream out in pleasure, my legs clenching around him. He pauses for a moment, ecstasy on his face as he looks down at me.

I shift my hips, moving my hands again to wrap around his neck. He bites down on my breast before pulling out and slamming back in. My breath skips, my nails clenching hard onto his shoulders. There’s a rattle when he slams into me again and another crash somewhere in the distance. His lips crush mine, and I can taste myself as I kiss him back frantically. Our teeth clack as we fight to get closer.

One hand wraps gently around my neck again, and he begins to piston in and out of me. I cry out in pleasure, my mind fleeing under the onslaught. He’s rough and brutal, not slowing his pace, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s giving me everything. He’s giving me his soul.

He straightens, gripping my ankles in his hand and bending them back, putting my knees towards my chest. He reached deeper inside me, hitting right on my g-spot each time. I’m frantic with pleasure, my hands having nothing to clench onto as he powers into me.

“Fuck,” he groans when I grab my breasts, kneading them hard. “You’re everything, Clara Bee,” he growls before pulling out. He jerks me to my feet. My legs won’t hold me up under the sudden rush of blood, but I don’t have to worry. He turns me around quickly and pushes down on my back until I’m bent over the table. His hand grips my hair tight in his fist before he slams into me again. This time, I scream out in pleasure. He doesn’t slow, doesn’t go gentle as he claims me right there on his famous table, dishes breaking as they rattle off and hit the floor.

Hatter pulls up on my hair, until my back arches, and he can wrap his hand around my neck again. I turn my head, and his lips capture mine, his pace never slowing. He pushes my hair to the side, nipping where my shoulder meets my neck, before biting down, marking me. I explode, my climax taking me by surprise, a cry of absolute pleasure echoing around the empty ballroom. His hand barely tightens on my neck, squeezing just a hint as I clench around him. His rhythm stutters, his chest rumbling with another growl as he thrusts into me a few more times before he tumbles after me, his warmth dripping down my thighs. I’m thankful I have an IUD inserted. I don’t think I will ever be able to remember a condom where the Hatter is involved. All my sensibilities go out the window.

Our breathing slows, but we don’t move, still intertwined, my back to his chest. His arms support me, keeping me from puddling to the floor.

“You’re perfect,” Hatter whispers in my ear. “You’re absolutely perfect.”

I shift, turning in his arms as he slips out of me. I lean back on the table, letting it support my weight as I grasp his cheeks between my hands.

“And you’re everything,” I tell him. “You are enough, and I wouldn’t change you for the world.”

His eyes glisten before he closes his eyes and leans his forehead against mine. His hands rest at my hips.

“Do you mean that?” he whispers, and I feel tears spring to my eyes. He is so damaged, so tortured. He thinks he isn’t worth what I have to give, and nothing could be further from the truth. I’m more worried I’m not enough for him.

I kiss him on the tip of his nose.

“I’m falling hard for you, Hatter, and it has nothing to do with a prophecy. I feel that way because of who you are, not who everyone else paints you to be. I see you. And I want you.”

He picks me up from the table suddenly. I squeak and wrap my legs around his waist.

“Where are we going?” I ask as he begins to walk with me in his arms.

“My room.”

“Wait! We can’t walk through the house like this! I’m naked.”

Technically, I’m still wearing the dress, but it’s around my waist. The tear is bigger than I thought, going down all the way to my navel, so the whole thing just sort of hangs off of me. He stops, looking speculatively at my state of undress.

“You’re right,” he says, setting me gently on my feet again. I’m able to stand by myself this time as he goes behind his chair and comes back with his purple jacket. He holds it out for me to slide into. I breath in the scent that comes from it, chocolate and chamomile, the smell that always accompanies him. I grab his top hat and hand it to him. Instead of putting it on, he plops it on my head. When I look at him in question, he grins.

“I like seeing you in my clothing,” he shrugs. “In my room, I expect you to wear nothing but those heels and my hat.”

Desire flickers through my abdomen, ready to go again even after the intense session we just had. I’ll no doubt be sore tomorrow.

As the Hatter wraps his arm around me and leads me from the room, glass crunching under our shoes, I throw every thought out of my head. I can worry about Wonderland and the prophecy tomorrow. For today, I’m going to get lost in my Hatter.

Oh, how I wish I can stay lost forever.