Page 67 of Filthy Little Secret

TIM

Iwake, clinging to Mark.

After I blew him, I came on his stomach and then we cleaned up again before heading to bed. The morning light shines across his pretty face. His eyes closed, I can see the welts around his face from the blows he took.

My abs are already turning purple. Those guys were a lot of things, but they sure as fuck weren’t weak.

I kiss him softly on the back of his neck, hoping not to wake him.

Even holding him this close, being next to him like this isn’t enough.

I want to be inside him. I want to be pushing into him and knowing we’re as close as we can possibly be.

It was all my fucking fault.

That’s the only thought that keeps replaying through my mind right now. If I hadn’t been at that party last night, Mark wouldn’t have gotten hurt and I wouldn’t have this nagging pain in my gut—one I know isn’t caused by the welts on my abdomen.

It reminds me of why we’re not a good idea.

His whole deal coming into this was he didn’t want to get hurt, and now look what I’ve fucking done. The fucking mess I’ve made of things.

I’ve hurt him.

Bad.

If I wasn’t in his life, he’d be lying in bed with some nice kid. Someone who’d take care of him.

Or some asshole like Greg.

I think it’d be better for him to get hurt like that than by someone like me.

At least they wouldn’t put his life in danger.

I grab the purpling area on my belly and pinch.

I deserve that for what I did to him.

He’s too good for me, and I’ve always known that.

This is just a wake-up call. One I’ve needed.

I needed a good slap in the face to be reminded of who I am…what I am.

And why Mark deserves better.

I’m so fucking selfish, though, even the thought of losing him—the thought of not having him here right beside me—is painful.

When did my life become like this? When did all my thoughts start to be about some guy?

Since Mark.

He stirs, shaking me from my self-defeating thoughts.

“Fuck,” he whines.

“Are you okay?”

He blinks and turns to me, a smile spreading across his face.

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