Page 120 of Dare To Live

Me: You want me to get off for you, Hellcat?

Ari: Yes.

Me: Shall I text you when I’m done?

Ari: Yes.

Me: How do you know I won’t lie?

The dots pop up, disappear, return, and disappear again. I strip down to my underwear while I wait for a response. When my cell finally chimes with an incoming text, I’m stretched out on the bed.

Ari: Record it and send it to me.

Me: You want a video of me jerking off?

Ari: Yes. Red or green?

I laugh quietly to myself. She’s really embracing the role of tormentor and, fool that I am, I’m too invested in giving her what she wants to deny her.

Me: Green.

I’m not entirely certain how I’m going to make this work, but with a bit of maneuvering I figure out a way to prop my cell against one of the pillows. I don’t need to do any prep work before hitting record. My dick is hard as steel when I wrap my fingers around it, has been since she touched me at the bench. Hooking the thumb of my other hand into the waistband of my boxer briefs, I drag them down, releasing my dick.

I try to put on a show for her, pumping my dick up and down in slow smooth strokes, but the sensation combined with the knowledge that she’s going to watch it back makes me harder and I’m panting and stroking in rough jerky moves less than two minutes after starting.

I feel like a schoolboy about to get his very first blowjob, out of control and unable to stop myself from coming too quickly. Gritting my teeth, I battle against the building desire. My thumb sweeps over the head of my dick, smearing the precum over the tip.

My thoughts snap back to her on her knees, sucking my dick deep into her mouth for the very first time, in the dark of the tomb all those years ago, and that’s all it takes.

“Fuck … Fuck … Fuck!”

My breathing is heavy … harsh in the room. The back of my hand is wet and sticky, covered in my cum. I let my head drop against the pillows and reach out with my other hand to tap the stop button.

With languid movements, I open the text app, attach the video and send it.

Me: I didn’t last very long. I was thinking about you the entire time.

Not exactly the most suave thing to say, but it’s all I’ve got.

Pushing up off the bed, I go into the bathroom and clean up. I catch sight of myself in the mirror as I turn to leave. I stop and stare, seeing an image of myself as an eighteen-year-old superimposed over the top of my reflection.

I haven’t changed a lot, but I’ve changed enough. I’m broader across the shoulders and arms. My hair is longer. The shape of my jaw is hidden under a few inches of growth—not quite a beard, but too long to be called stubble. There are faint lines at the corner of my eyes. My body is covered in tattoos—more than the four or five I had when I was eighteen. Snakes, dragons, demons, and angels cover my arms and back. Words—Nasty Little Monster, and Feed Me, Fuck Me, Fight Me—cover my ribs. A cat sits on my side, her tail curled around my hip, with the words ‘My kitten has a hellcat hidden inside of her’ written beneath it.

I turn away from the mirror and walk back into the bedroom, avoiding the side of the bedroom that Kellan used to use. Hitting the light switch, the room goes dark. I take the steps necessary to reach the bed and drop onto the mattress. The curtains are closed, but a sliver of moonlight peeks through the small gap.

What the fuck are you doing? Coming here is such a bad idea. What is it going to achieve?

Now my mind is unoccupied by thoughts of Arabella and the game she started, it’s returning to the reality of where I am.

I roll onto my side, then twist onto my back. I can’t get comfortable. I can’t sleep. I can’t relax. My brain won’t switch off. Every time I close my eyes, all I see are memories of Kellan in this room, hear his laughter, the way he muttered when he worked on his laptop.

“Fuck.” I sit up.

Maybe I should go for a walk. Clear my head. Try and exhaust myself.

If fucking around in the woods with Arabella, and then jerking off thinking about her isn’t going to relax you enough to sleep, why do you think going for another walk will?

“Stop being so fucking logical.”

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