Page 30 of Last Breath

Walking away from my childhood prison, the air is tight, not thinner or less constricting. The finality should have released the pressure in my chest, but it didn’t. It actually feels much worse.

I remember all the strikes, the moments of fear, the times when Tress would push himself on me—entering me as a father never should, all to show his dominance. His depravity was a curse and I need it to end.

Every step toward the car is heavy and constraining, with the demons in my head requesting further restitution for everything I’d endured. They’re crying out at the injustice of the matter.

Why’d you let him off so easy?they ask.

Where was his pain, his never-ending fear? He deserves more.

Cut him.

Tear his flesh from bone.

He didn’t squeal for it to end. Why were you such a pussy?

Smacking my head repeatedly, hoping to silence the destructive voices, Mal stops short beside me. “Salem?”

He’s worried.

He knows…he sees it,they say, each crowing their dissidence.

Smiling slightly, I try to appease his concerns, but I can’t fake it with Mal. He knows me too well.

“I’m faltering.”

Stroking a hand down my cheek, he pulls me close. With his soft lips brushing mine, the stubble of his beard rustling against me, I accept his care. Tangling his tongue with mine, he grasps the front of my jeans, pulling down the zipper. As his hand enters, I hiss out a breath. He knows how to pull me from my darkness, how to drag the demons back to their cages. He can control me like no other.

In long, languid, heavy-handed strokes, I relish the pain he inflicts. It’s a punishment I ask for. Breaking the kiss, looking me in the eyes, the scars on his face turn up as he smiles. His lightness is a balm to my tortured soul. Even the demons that rattle around know that he’s controlling my overriding need to vet out further punishment to others.

“Let me take your pain,” he says. “Salem, give me everything.”

With a slight nod, I close my eyes. Stroking a hand down my arm, the one that holds my knife set, he takes it from me. Laying it on the trunk, he lovingly unfurls it, eyeing the shiny steel that awaits his touch, and selects the tiny paring knife. Honed to feather sharpness, Mal tests it on his fingertip. With blood pooling at the edge of the cut, he lifts it to my mouth. Sucking it deep, I take the tang within my soul, and the demons coo with delight.

On a pop, I release his finger and watch as he bends down.

His features alight, his smile devious and dangerous, Mal pops the button on my jeans, allowing them to fall. Rubbing his blood against my length, my erection tightens further. Painful and anticipatory, I watch as he kisses, sucks, and takes me into his mouth. Holding his hair, holding him hostage against my skin, I move in time to the pace I need.

This moment is symbolic.

Mal knows that.

We’re standing facing the car, but in the background, I know the past of my world I once occupied—was hostage to—still stands in the forefront, haunting me. This moment is one of release, joy, rebirth and destruction. Destruction because I’m tearing down every old memory of pain from Tress, and building new emotions and memories with Malachi on the land that was once steeped in sorrow and pain.

Opening my eyes, I look to the car. Sitting in the back with the door open, Joy watches us. She’s entranced, inspecting every movement. Her breath comes and goes. Each a shallow, tight, and keenly aroused action.

“Touch yourself, Joy,” I grind out between a particularly deep suck of Mal’s assault on my cock. “I want to see how aroused you are.”

She quickly jumps up from the car bench seat and shimmy’s her jeans off. She’s not wearing panties, and I can see the glistening moisture of her arousal. Resting a leg on the doorsill and another on the seat, I watch as she tentatively touches herself. On a gulping sigh she curses out a soft,“Fuck.”Pulling her lips back, stroking her clit, I watch intently as I feel my need to come rise. I know Mal can’t see what she’s doing, but I can tell he’s imagining her moves. His mouth moves faster, his lips tightening around my shaft as his hand caresses my balls.

Weaving my fingers within his hair, pulling the strands painfully, I relish the sound that Mal makes as he too wrestles with his own excitement. I know he’ll need a release after this, but he loves to hold it off until it crests that of a painful searing ache.

Watching Joy delve her fingers within her folds, I wonder what it would be like to lick her, taste her, to lap up that sweetness.

Take her.

Make her yours.

Malachi won’t mind.

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