Page 70 of Her Dark Angel

The string didn’t snap because Royce spoke badly about my mom. No. I didn’t care about that because knowing my mom, I knew Royce’s words were full of truth. She is who she is and that will never change.

I snapped because, in that moment of Royce talking down to me the same way my dad does, I felt weak. And I hate feeling weak. If I’m weak, I will never escape the life I’m living. That much I know.

To avoid weakness, I need to stand up more for myself, otherwise everyone in my life will continue to walk all over me.

But that’s never going to happen again. The blood on my hands and Royce’s broken nose is proof of that.

25

NASH

Present—1989.

The violent jolt through my body forces me into a seated position, my heart racing with the memory of feeling Royce’s nose crunching beneath my fists. I close my eyes and slump forward, dragging a hand through my tousled bed hair as I try to control my erratic breathing.

“Fucking hell,” I breathe, shaking my head as if that’ll push the vivid images of that day from my mind. It doesn’t. I can still see the blood on my hands and the wailing of Royce’s cries as he was dragged away from me.

Over the past few weeks, the nightmares have gotten worse each day. When Hudson told me he heard me screaming in my sleep when I was in the studio with Kinsley, I had to lie and act like I had no idea what he was talking about. Kinsley learning about the fucked up nightmares I have from my childhood is the last thing I want. It’s nothing that she should concern herself with when she has enough on her plate already.

All I want is one peaceful sleep where I’m not being forced to relive the worst years of my life. Is that too much to ask for?

The loud ringing of my phone on the nightstand makes me groan inwardly. As badly as I want to ignore whoever is on the end of the line, I know I can’t. It could be important for all I know.

I lean across the mattress and swoop the heavy device up in my hand. “Hello?” I say into the receiver. I use my free hand to rub my temple, hoping it’ll ease the headache forming behind my eyes.

“Nash, it’s James. If you’re not busy this morning, I would like you to come into the office to sit down with Miss May and her manager to discuss how the publicity stunt is going.”

I fling the sheet wrapped around my waist off, watching as it falls haphazardly at the end of the mattress. Swinging my legs over the edge, I glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand. 9:18 am.

It’s way too fucking early to be awake.

Rubbing my forehead, I mutter, “Yeah, okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Are you okay?” James asks after a moment of silence. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

I swallow hard and stand. My eyes land on the half-empty bottle of Jack on the nightstand, calling to me like a goddamn siren.

Pushing my tongue into the side of my cheek, I consider grabbing it by the neck and chugging the liquid until my vision blurs at the edges. My fingers itch at my sides and after a long moment of consideration, I give into that desire to feel the burn of the amber liquid sliding down my throat. Bringing the bottle to my lips, I sigh with relief when the first drop touches my tongue.

After chugging a hefty mouthful, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and sigh. “I’m all good, but thanks for the offer.”

“Oh, okay.” He almost sounds disappointed at my refusal to accept whatever help he is trying to offer. “I’ll see you soon, Nash. Make sure you’re on your best behavior.”

I roll my eyes and hang up the phone, tossing the device on the bed. Running a hand through my hair, I make my way into the bathroom to shower. The last thing I want is to walk into James’s office smelling of whiskey and cigarettes.

As I strip out of my sweatpants and step into the warm jets of water, images of Kinsley splayed out on the bench behind me rush into my mind like a tsunami and I can’t help but smile. Her moans were like music to my ears and the way her pussy sang for me…

My cock hardens at the memory.

“Fuck.” I lean my forehead against the shower wall, letting the hot water rush down my tense back in waves. “Why can’t I get you out of my goddamn head, little devil?”

Squeezing my eyes shut, my hand slides down my abdomen to wrap around my hard length. It’s throbbing almost painfully in my hand, hot and thick as I continue to picture Kinsley on the bench behind me, her legs spread open for me as her pussy drips with need and desire.

Without thinking, the hand fisting my cock begins to pump slowly, easing into a steady rhythm as more memories flood my mind. I can almost hear the little devil’s sweet voice whispering my name as I pump harder, gritting my teeth as the pressure rapidly builds.

“Shit,” I grunt as my free hand lifts to rest on the wall above my head for support.

My hips jerk forward to meet the fast rhythm of my fist. I imagine my cock shoved deep down Kinsley’s throat, her eyes brimming with unshed tears as her soft pink lips swallow me whole, taking me with ease. Her hair is fisted in my right hand as I use my left to hold her throat, feeling myself moving within the small space, so tight and wet and?—

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