Page 57 of Burn for Me

Stars exploded.

Worlds ended.

Pandora’s box was ripped wide by his cock deep inside.

As I trembled against him, his cum seeping out with his slowing strokes, tears fell.

I knew I’d beg him to take me again, and again.

He’d played my body like his violin, and now I was trapped by the beautiful song he’d wrapped around us. A song borne of gasps and moans, of desperation and desire.

Phoenix had bewitched me.

A sob tore from me as the weeks of betrayal and lonelinesscame to a surface. The loss of my family hit me full force with the emotional wave the orgasms had unleashed.

Phoenix picked me up, cradling me against his chest. A wicked shiver wracked me as the moments of passion depleted, my naked and soaked form catching up to reality. He walked us close to the cottage, before stripping himself off, ditching the gas mask even, his scarred face on full display.

The rock he sat on was warm beneath us, and I burrowed against his chest, his burning home warming us.

I cried for my loss.

I cried for my weakness.

I cried for the cottage.

I cried for him.

All the while he held me. Giving me safety and warmth I didn’t deserve.

I cried about that, too.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Phoenix

Blackened ash clung to my fingers as we picked through the cottage's carcass. Little remained untouched by fire or smoke.

Although I had lived there for as many years as I’d spent at home with my family, the cottage had never felt like it was mine.

It was my uncle’s. A place of loneliness and anger. If the walls could speak, they’d have whispered about black eyes and my beaten body. They’d have spoken of so many nights spent sobbing. They’d have screamed about the boy who vanquished the evil plaguing him, only to be wrapped in more years of solitude.

But they would speak of Laura too. Of her warmth filling the barren rooms, her kindness attracting the local animals. Of her stealing that pathetic boy's heart.

My eyes found her through the jutting wood and blackened stones, looking forlornly at what was once one ofmy diaries. Even after a night sobbing on the beach, marked by the stone I’d fucked her against, my cum drying on her thighs, she was the most exquisite woman I’d ever seen.

Fucking her had been better than I’d dreamt it could be. So different from the clinical liaisons I’d had in the past. Her eyes had brimmed with desire, even with my scarred face showing past my gas mask. There was no recoiling from my touch, she’d wanted more. No, needed more.

My addiction to her touch had been unleashed, every metre between us feeling like a tortuous chasm.

Abandoning my search for anything surviving, I moved toward the one thing that truly mattered.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered, looking at the devastation at her feet. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking. I was just… so mad. At you. At me. I snapped.’

The charred paper of the diary crumbled in her hands, and I’d have been lying if I said there wasn’t a tug at my chest. It was all I had left of Mum, Dad and May. My childhood ramblings.

Lifting a hand, I took the book from her hands, and dropped it to the floor. Returning it to the old part of me it belonged with.

The previous night had been a crossroads. One of those life altering moments where you can go in a host of different directions, changing your world forever. I chose the road Laura stood at, ready to follow her into whatever future lay ahead.

---