Page 51 of Breaking Boston

The adrenaline that had fueled me through the attack begins to wane, replaced by a sense of emptiness and despair. I know that what I've done will haunt me for the rest of my days, but at the same time, a small part of me feels a sense of twisted satisfaction—satisfaction in knowing that Remy will never again be able to hurt anyone the way he had hurt me.

I also understand that the cycle of violence and revenge is never-ending, and the darkness that now consumes me is a heavy burden to bear.

TWENTY-TWO

THE BINGE

BOSTON

The way his hands run down my body sends an intense burning over my skin, one that has all the cares in my mind flying out the fucking window.

When I turn to face him, he tightens his hold on my waist and uses his other hand, dragging his fingertips across my collarbone. He licks his lips eagerly and casts his eyes around my face before settling on my lips. Our mouths fuse in an instant, and our tongues twirl in a heated battle. A slight moan escapes my throat, traveling directly into Donovan's as he cups my cheek and deepens the kiss.

Before I know it, one thing leads to another. I take the lead and deepen the kiss, straddling his lap and pinning him against the couch. He presses against my flesh with his hands, kneading it like dough. I move my hands up his stomach, tracing the defined muscles that cover his abdomen. They look like they were sculpted in marble—tight and precise, almost like they were painted on. Another sultry groan escapes my throat as he bites my bottom lip and then brushes my teeth with the piercing in his tongue.

"Fuck, Boston. Are you sure you're okay?" he pants as our mouths part, but only for long enough for both of us to rip off our shirts and toss them to the ground in a heap.

"Fuck me, please, so I forget," I beg, unafraid of seeking solace, even if it means taking a risk.

“Damn, baby girl. Hearing you fucking beg me is enough to make me come," he snickers as he holds onto me and flips me to my back, laying me on a pile of clothes on the couch that I’ve been meaning to fold.

He hovers over me, his gaze deep in mine, as he sweeps his hand down my body, resting it right between my thighs. He touches me, and I buck my hips as his palm rubs my pussy and his fingers caress my clit. He flings open my legs and lies down between them, maintaining a fixed gaze on me, and causing my body to tremble slightly. My toes curl up against the couch cushion as his finger circles my opening, spreading my arousal in a tease that sends my legs trembling.

He aligns the tip of his cock with my opening, and then slowly presses himself inside the warm, moist space, making my back arch as he does so. As Donovan pushes, squeezing his hard, veiny cock between my walls, images of me killing Remy replay in my head, and I find it impossible to stop thinking about them.

In an effort to forget about the sin I just committed, I grab Donovan by the back of his head and pull him down so that our lips once again come together. He repeatedly hits my spot with the tip of his cock while grunting into my mouth, but the more I try to reach my climax, the further away it gets. He slides out of me and slams back in, stretching me even more and leaving a lingering, unpleasant burn in his wake. However, the pain makes me feel alive. It helps me realize I'm not dead, and I find myself looking for more of it as I dig my nails into the skin on his back.

Donovan fucks me into oblivion with vibrant, shallow strokes, spilling his cum into me as his body spasms on top of mine.

"Come for me, Little Bird. Soak my cock with that sweet, sweet cum," he grunts, fucking me through his orgasm.

I close my eyes and try to focus, feeling my orgasm slip away. Before long, I feel a hand wrapped around my throat, flinging my eyes open. Donovan grins, pounding into me to try to send me over the edge. And finally, with one final, deep thrust, my pussy grips his cock like a vice and soaks it with my cum, my body writhing underneath him.

While I'm lying here, gasping for air, my chest heaves, and contractions rip into my lower belly, leaving me with a tight, fulfilled feeling inside.

"What was that about?" Donovan asks, leaning his back against the headboard, lighting a cigarette.

I shrug, still trying to catch my breath. "I don't know. I just couldn't get there." I frown, still reeling in the high of my climax that I almost didn't get.

"You're stressed, baby. The other night took a lot out of you. Killing someone isn't easy, little bird, and you fucking killed that motherfucker," he laughs, smirking flirtatiously.

"I'm not finished either." I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my feet hitting the cold floor. "The Taylors are next."

I've been lostand stuck in a fog for the last few days. Ever since I killed Remy, I haven't been myself. But I was warned about it, and I didn't listen.

There's a newfound sense of power running through me, and it fuels the fire inside of me even more. The thirst for blood is consuming; it's all I can think about. And as I sit here, wrapped in a towel after just getting out of the shower, my mind is already plotting my next kill.

The Taylors didn't only break me, but they broke Lux and Donovan, too. And I know they want them dead as much as I do.

After getting dressed in my ripped black jeans and a black cropped sweater, I do another shot, stuck in a deep binge that I can break out of. My mind is clouded with rage and revenge, and no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to snap back to reality. Killing changes a person, and now I finally feel alive for the first time in my life.

Grabbing the journal my parents wrote for me, I flipped through to the page I left off on and began reading, feeling the stress and anxiety melt away from my body. A smile forms on my lips, and my breathing slows, all the anxiety within me slipping away.

I'll find out who killed you, and I promise I'll kill them. I whisper aloud as I read, doing my best to hold in my tears.

I put the book down and get up, making myself a cup of coffee. On the counter is a handwritten note, and it catches my eye almost immediately. I pick it up and study the writing, feeling in my gut that I've seen it somewhere before. The note is from Donovan, telling me he and Lux would be back later. But that's not what gives me a chill that spreads to my bones; it's the writing itself.

I shiver and crumple the note up, shoving it into my pocket. Grabbing my cup, I take it onto the balcony, lighting my morning blunt to soothe my anxiety and hopefully rip me out of the depression I've been stuck in. The snow has stopped falling, but the glistening blanket covering the city is still there. Everything is covered in white, and it's fucking beautiful.

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