Page 55 of Sinful Scars

It takesevery ounce of energy I have to get me up the stairs to my shithole of an apartment. Knowing that I have less than an hour before I need to get back to Elle’s place makes my body feel heavy.

I’m beyond exhausted, and my muscles ache with every step I take.

Normally, I would have another coffee and just power through the tiredness, but the blackout the other day scared the shit out of me.

If I were to blackout when I was with Elle and something happened to her… I’d never forgive myself. I can’t risk her life like that, so I need to start prioritizing sleep, even if it is just an hour here and there.

The obvious solution is to not go sneaking into Elle’s apartment again and staying up most of the night watching her sleep. But it’s become a sort of nightly ritual for me.

It used to be enough for me to just sit in my car with my eyes fixed on her window. Knowing she was up there, safe and asleep, used to bring me comfort, and I felt safe enough to catch ten minutes of sleep here or there.

But since the blackout, if I don’t physically hear her breathing, I start to panic.

At least, that’s how I explain the tightness in my chest and my racing heart whenever I’m not near her.

It could also be due to the fact that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about getting her off, which has my body permanently wound up. I’ve dreamed of being able to touch her like that for years, and to finally hear her sweet cries as she climaxes for me has had my blood heating and my cock thickening at all hours of the day and night.

What I would give to be able to do that to her every night. To worship her body with my tongue, to have her scream my name as she comes…

But that can never happen.

It was wrong of me to cross that line, to take advantage of her trust like that. She doesn’t know who she’s falling for, and I’m too much of a selfish bastard to tell her.

But maybe I should. Maybe then she would walk away, and everything could go back to the way it used to be. With me watching her live her life, knowing that I can never be a part of it.

The thought weighs heavy on my chest as I climb the last set of stairs.

Elle has a day off today, and she tends to sleep in, so I figured it was safe for me to slip away for an hour to try and catch up on some sleep.

Though it seems Pyotr has other plans for me.

As I approach the top floor of my apartment building, I find my only friend leaning against my front door carrying a coffee container and a paper bag.

“What are you doing here?”

“Thought you might need a little pick me up.” He holdsup the tray of coffees. “Plus, I have something I need to speak to you about.”

He looks impressively put together, considering the fact it’s not even six a.m., wearing a freshly pressed white shirt and navy slacks beneath his overcoat, with his hair neatly styled, and his jaw free of stubble.

I look down at my own attire and cringe.

“They invented phones for that very reason.” I reach into the pocket of my jeans for my keys. “I only have an hour, Pyotr , and I really need to get some sleep.”

“I’ll make this quick.”

Pyotr steps aside so I can unlock my door before following me inside.

“I like what you’ve done with the place.” He looks around my virtually empty apartment.

He sets the coffees down on the kitchen counter before turning to face me.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here?” I grab the take-out bag, helping myself to a donut.

My stomach growls as I take a bite, and I realize I can’t remember the last time I ate.

Pyotr folds his arms over his chest as he regards me.

I know I look like shit, my stubble slowly turning into more of a beard, and my black jeans and hoodie look like I’ve slept in them, which is nothing short of ironic.

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