Page 75 of Fallen Stars

He lays his head on mine. “We can go.”

I shake my head. “When the fireworks end.”

“Okay.” He kisses my hair. “If we need to leave sooner, let me know.”

Tightening my hold on him, I glance up at the sky and get lost in the sea of fiery colors. As the grand finale lights up the night, I kiss my way up Oliver’s neck.

His fingers comb through my hair as our lips meet. My hand drifts beneath his shirt, the pads of my fingers dancing over his abs as I deepen the kiss. Giving me more of his weight, he lowers me to the blanket on the lawn.

For the second time today, the world ceases to exist. The night sky glows above us, the spray of pyrotechnics falling around us like stars.

One of my arms circles Oliver’s waist as my other hand drifts to his hair. He devours me and grinds his erection against mine without shame. I moan into the kiss and lift my hips, silently telling him I need more.

When he breaks the kiss, I lock onto his intense, amorous gaze. My dick twitches, desperate for him.

He notices.

“Home.” He presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “Now.”

I push up on my elbows and take his mouth again, greedy for him.

Home.

I’m already there.

TWENTY

NUMBER 263

Day Forty

“Your friends areworried about you, Two Sixty-Three.”

At the mention of friends, I lift my head slowly and narrow my eyes at the masked guard.

“My friends?” A faint glimmer of hope coats my words, but not for long.

Booming laughter bounces off the walls of my cell as the guard presses a hand to his stomach. When he regains his composure, he shakes his head. “Poor word choice on my part, I suppose. Not friends. You don’t have any of those. I should’ve said visitors.”

The last shred of optimism vanishes into the void along with my shriveling body and withering soul. I collapse onto my side on the floor and pray for the ground to open and swallow me whole.

The hell mentioned in books and churches sounds like a vacation compared to my current prison. I’d take fire and brimstone over physical and sexual assaults any day of the week.I’d take anything over the isolation, humiliation, and unwelcome degradation. Anything.

I don’t respond to the guard. There is no point. Whatever I say will get spun around and twisted to poke fun at me and my situation.

“Your most recent visitor says you’re looking gaunt. They’re not pleased. Apparently, you’re not eating the food we give you.”

I don’t fucking care,is what I want to say.

Instead, I remain tight-lipped.

“No one wants to fuck a stick, Two Sixty-Three.”

Another guard enters the room with a tray.

“So it’s time to put more meat on those bones.”

I don’t want to gain weight. I don’t want to be more appealing to these sadistic motherfuckers.

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