Page 192 of Texting Dr. Stalker

Keeping his palm over my eyes, he carried me into the living room, never stopping our kiss.

Dumping me onto my feet again, his lips turned demonic.

I answered him back with feral starvation.

The deeper we kissed, the more nothing else mattered.

Not names.

Not pasts or mistakes or truths.

Just this.

Just heartbeats and blood, need and belonging.

Throwing my arms around his shoulders, I hung on as his head turned, his lips slid, and he yanked our kiss from insanity to cruelty.

Tears welled and fell, streaking down my cheeks as I surrendered every piece.

I needed him to break me. To breakwithme.

I needed violence because I was strong enough to survive.

I needed bloodshed and brutality because those were proof of life and living.

“I’m not going to stop just because you’re crying. You haven’t said the safe word, so I’m going to take everything you have to offer me.” Spinning me around, he pinched my nape and kept my eyes facing the living room wall.

The fresh white paint I’d used gleamed gold from the sun. The ancient box TV hissed with snow, turning itself on at some point in our mauling. Peng huddled on the windowsill, looking at us with wide green eyes.

X hissed into my ear from behind. “Don’t turn around. You do, and I’m gone.”

Panting hard, dripping wet with need, I swayed in the centre of the living room while he stomped down the corridor. He moved about in the laundry. The sounds of him raiding Nana’s old boxes of supplies echoed, just before he marched back and set my skin alight with sensitivity.

Just having him in the same room as me caused my entire body to break out in mind-searing flames.

Crowding behind me, he pressed something soft and heavy over my eyes. Without a word, he tied the butterfly bead mask in place, repeating what we’d done the night he’d finally snapped and permitted me to make him come.

I trembled as he spun me around and tugged at my shirt. “Off.”

Raising my arms, I didn’t speak as he removed my black shirt and unhooked my bra beneath. My nipples pebbled at the sound of my clothing being tossed away.

My heart leaped into my throat as his fingers brushed my bare belly, undoing the button of my jeans shorts and unzipping me. “Hold onto me if you need to.”

I fumbled for his shoulders, blind and completely at his mercy. Balancing on one leg, I bit my bottom lip as he stripped my shorts off, then slid my underwear down.

My pulse skyrocketed as I stood before him, unable to see and utterly nude.

Pulling my hands off his shoulders, he commanded, “Stand there. Don’t move.” Clothing rustled as he undressed. His boots thudded as if he’d tossed them aside. The sounds of my curtains being drawn and the sudden disappearance of the sun on my skin hinted he’d cocooned us in our own private world.

I breathed hard as he came close.

My skin broke out in searing goosebumps as he cupped my chin and pushed me down. “Kneel.”

I gulped as a ricochet of womb-clenching lust had my knees wobbling.

My mouth watered to suck him.

But the moment I was on my knees, he pushed me until I sprawled backward, kicking my legs out, and landing on the nest of cushions I’d scattered on the floor while waiting for a new couch to be delivered.

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