Page 82 of The Library

Back at the house, Anna heads to the guest room, leaving me alone in the living room. I sit down on the couch, my phone clutched in my hand as I scroll through the last few messages from Sebastian. Vague. Reassuring but empty. Just enough to let me know he’s alive, but not enough to calm the storm inside me.

Finally, after seven days of almost complete silence, I give in. I open a new message and type:

When are you coming home? I miss you.

I hesitate, my thumb hovering over the send button before I add:

I need to swallow your cock, and I need you to fuck me in every hole.

It’s a risky message, but at this point, I don’t care. I need something—some kind of response that lets me knowhe’s coming back to me. I hit send, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and fear bubbling in my chest.

I wait for what feels like an eternity, the seconds dragging on, my heart pounding in my chest as I stare at my phone.

But then, the front door swings open, and my heart skips a beat.

Sebastian and Ty walk in, their faces hard, their bodies covered in blood. Cuts and bruises mark their skin, and Sebastian is clutching his shoulder, where a bullet wound has been bandaged.

“Oh my god,” I whisper, rushing to Sebastian’s side. Anna rushing down the stairs to Ty’s side, her face pale with worry.

“What happened?” I ask, my voice trembling as I take in the sight of Sebastian’s injuries.

“It’s nothing,” Sebastian mutters, his voice tight with pain.

But it’s not nothing. Not even close.

Ty and Anna exchange a glance, and I can see the fear in Anna’s eyes. Whatever happened, it was bad. And they’re not telling us the full story. Again.

“I need to get him cleaned up,” I say, trying to stay calm even though my heart is racing.

Anna nods, knowing we both need time alone with the guys. Her and Ty head home in her car, leaving his bike here.

* * *

After going to the bathroom in our bedroom, I turn on the shower, the steam already filling the room as I move towardhim. My hands tremble as I reach for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head.

His fractured gaze follows my every move, a flicker of something dark and primal in his eyes, but he doesn’t stop me. He’s giving me this control, allowing me to strip him down piece by piece. As I unbuckle his belt, my fingers brush against his skin, and I realize it’s not just the blood I’m washing away. It’s his trust, his vulnerability, that he’s placing in my hands.

I shed my clothes next, feeling his eyes burn into me, but there’s no hesitation in the way he lets me guide him into the shower. The water cascades over us, mixing with the blood, and I gently press the soap against his skin, my hands shaking as I cleanse him, every touch a silent reassurance that I’m here, that I’ll take care of him. He lets me. He trusts me. And in this moment, with the water washing over us, I feel a connection that runs deeper than the darkness we both carry.

As the water pours over us, I feel his body tense beneath my touch, and I know he’s still holding back. There’s so much he’s not saying, so much he’s hiding from me. But I don’t push. Not yet. I just focus on getting him clean, on making sure he’s okay.

But the moment I touch the wound on his shoulder, I freeze. It’s been stitched up, carefully, as if someone else had already tended to it before they got home.

“Where were you?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

He doesn’t answer, but the look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know. Whatever happened, it was dangerous. And it’s not over yet.

But before I can press him further, the heat between us flares to life again, a reminder of that text I sent him right before he walked in the door. As the hot water continues to cascade over us, something shifts inside me. The need for answers fades away, replaced by something more primal. Right now, I don’t needexplanations. I don’t need to know where he’s been or what he’s done. I only need him.

Without thinking, I drop to my knees in front of him, the water splashing against my back as I look up at him with wide, pleading eyes. I want him to know that I’m his in every way—that I’ll give him every part of me, just as I promised.

“I’ll give you a reason to come home to me every night,” I whisper, my voice filled with desire and submission.

Sebastian’s expression darkens with lust as he watches me, his cock already hard, the thick length of him standing at attention. He reaches down, brushing his thumb over my lips, his eyes locked on mine.

“This,” he murmured, his voice rough and full of heat, “is just another reason I’ll always come back to you. No matter where I go, it’s you I’ll come home to. I love you.”

The words send a shiver through me, and I feel my heart pound in my chest. I’ve known for a while that I’m in love with him, but I’ve never dared to tell him. I wasn’t sure I could ever let myself be that vulnerable, that open. But hearing him say those words, hearing him confess the one thing I never thought he’d say, something snaps inside me. It’s like a dam breaking, the darkness inside me that I’ve tried so hard to hide finally rushing forward. He’s consuming me, devouring every piece of who I thought I was, and I’m letting him.

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