Stone Cold

He released a low, deep chuckle from the back of his throat, his large, strong hands gripping like a vice around Alyssa's dainty wrists. The hallway she was being dragged down was dark and dingy, with a deep hue of burgundy paint down the walls with splinters of cracks running through them. "Now, to my room", he growled softly, his dark chocolate eyes gleaming over with a cold, rough blackness like empty pits. His smile was gleaming with anticipation, or some delicious delight. His fingers clamped down like a vice as he opened the heavy door; the walls were a deep hue of blood red, drinks laid out on the vanity; they were evenly spaced out in a chaotic order. His palm softly let go of her thin wrists, Richie calmly walking over to get a drink; his mind was firing on all cylinders of what he could do with his new firey, fine, beautiful specimen of a woman. His sadistic tendancies were bubbling beneath the surface of his skin.  Alyssa stood up, confidently walking over