Page 130 of Under the Bed

He’s brutal and ruthless. Holds on to his orgasm until my nails scrape his shoulders, breaking theskin. Until his blood runs down the drain, and my orgasm milks his cock.

Then he fills me with his cum.

With babies that I would love to have once we’re in the clear.

A problem for tomorrow.

There’ll be time for babies.

Later in life.

Kaleb is still a fugitive. I still have to be interviewed about Professor Dempsey’s murder. And Kaleb said we’ll stay here until Halloween.

Meaning I’ll have to stick to the plan. I have to show up at school today, to grieve while pretending that I still want to pursue my career as a psychologist.

I don’t.

This was always about understanding my fixation with Kaleb and who he is. I thought we’d never have the opportunity to be together. That my maddening, unconventional obsession was a sickness.

It isn’t. I realize it now.

We’re fine.

He patches me up a second time, tucks me under the covers, flipping me to face him. The bed is warm. His body is hotter.

My eyelids are incredibly heavy. They weigh a ton or so it feels.

“Tell me.” His voice is hoarse. That’s what happens when you don’t speak for hours at a time.

“Tell you what?”

His hand on myjaw wakes me up. I’m being jolted to life by the simple gesture of tipping my head up to him. Of having his lips brush my temple. My nose. My cheek and lips.

“The first night I walked into your apartment, you were hiding in the closet.” He’s never told me that part before. I frown, and he rubs the creases between my eyebrows. “Don’t act so surprised.”

“The finger you left me.”

He nods. “You kept my mask.”

My body is about to burst into flames as I remember what I did that night.

He blinks, a hint of a rare smile teasing his lips. “You used it.”

“You were going to tell me something,” I snap.

Another rare thing happens. He huffs out a laugh. “Okay, yeah, perv.”

“Kaleb!”

“Kidding.” In the darkness of the room, his golden eyes are like two embers. “It turned me on.”

“Oh God.”

“About the thing I was going to say.”

“Tell me.” I wrap my fingers around his wrist, kissing his knuckles. Using it to drag myself closer to him. He hums, snuggling into me.

“You—it touched me. Here.” He splays a hand on his naked chest. “I’m different. I don’t care about people. This isn’t how I’m wired. I haven’t felt compassion for anyone until I met you.”

---