Page 30 of Fragmented Illusions
I get to play with their bodies. I get to carve them every which way—truly whatever I feel like doing in that moment. I get them to the brink, teetering right on the cliff of life and death.
That’s always my favorite part. Watching their bodies struggle to breathe. When the panic sets in. When their brain finally clears of the fog induced adrenaline and they register this is it. This is their death.
So insignificant in the grand scheme of things, yet oh so fucking important.
The grand finale of their demise.
They’re all merely a part of the circle of life. Another animal on the food chain succumbing to the predator.
“Change the direction of your thoughts, brother. I can see your pulse hammering in your neck.”
I swallow and glance over at Solomon out of the corner of my eye. He’s not even looking at me, his gaze is still forward although I know Fallon is long gone by now. In fact, most of the people who were milling about are, but we’re still here, waiting for what, I don’t know but I usually just follow his lead. It’s not only easier that way, but smarter too.
“What if I don’t want to,” I say, my voice coming out hoarse despite my best intentions to speak confidently. He knows I’m affected right now. He knows what I’m thinking about and what it always does to my body.
Carving up my pretty victims always gets me unbelievably hard; I almost go crazy with lust. And he knows it too—because he always watches me.
We share a room at the frat house, each with our own beds, but it makes what we do that much easier.
After every kill, when all is settled and taken care of and are back at the house, he watches me jack myself. He sits on his bed, back against the headboard, eyes locked on my length as I work it feverishly. His gaze burns into me as he stares with the same blank expression he always wears.
It used to bother me, and occasionally it still does when I’m more than desperate for him, but mostly it doesn’t. I understand him. It’s who he is. And I wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want me.
And he wants Fallon too… As much as I do.
“This is not the time, Spencer. You need to control yourself.” This time, he does glare at me. His blue eyes—the slightest shade darker than mine but not enough of a difference for anyone else to notice—lock on me and swallow me fucking whole.
“I can’t… You know I can’t,” I practically whine as I whisper to him. I glance away, resisting the urge to cup myself over my jeans as my pulse hammers, shooting all of the blood in my body to one appendage. I shift from foot to foot as need rolls through me.
“Please, Sol,” I whisper, but I don’t dare look at him. He would eat me alive with those eyes of his. He rarely surrenders to my needs, so I don’t expect him to today either. I know my request is foolish, especially when he already has the plans for today in place.
“Everyone at the house is in class. We have thirty minutes. Move,” he barks out his order quietly, but sternly, and my legs automatically kick into overdrive. I force myself to pull back after I sprint across the grass.
I’m getting ahead of myself. He’s probably going to berate me once we are behind closed doors for my carelessness. And I can’t blame him. I’ve been so on edge since Fallon, I feel like I’m spiraling.
I want to play with her pretty little body. I need to see her bleed and squirm. Maybe squirt too. I wonder if she does that. It would be so hot, her juices covering my face as Sol fucks into me from behind.
“Fuck,” I groan as I reach down and grab myself, trying to relieve the ache. Long, slender fingers curl around the back of my neck, weaving through the curling ends of my hair.
“You need to exercise control, Spencer, or you won’t get what you need.” Sol leans down next to my ear from behind. We’re walking down the sidewalk that leads to the house now and I can feel my blood surging through my veins, almost singing with excitement.
He’s going to touch me, give me what I need.
I crave is so badly, it’s driving me insane.
“Could you imagine the three of us?” I ask as I walk up the steps to the front door. Sol’s fingers are still gripping my neck, almost bruising, but I love it; the bite of pain.
“It’s all I can think about,” he murmurs so quietly behind me I almost miss it. I try to spin to face him, but he tightens his fingers. “Hurry up.”
I push the door open and stride inside, straight up the wooden staircase that curves left to our bedroom at the very end, near the bathroom. I step inside of our room, Sol almost pressed against my back, and stop once the door closes behind us.
I try to spin around but Solomon tightens his grip on me. I’m sure I will have bruises in the morning. He’s never been like this with me before. He rarely ever touches me, and he definitely doesn’t indulge me, and I know I only have one person to thank for this.
Fallon.
She affects him in a way even I can’t. I should be mad, but I’m not. I’m just going to take advantage of it while I can.
Sol keeps stalking forward, pushing my legs to move with his. My heart thunders as we shuffle to his bed nearest to the door. My knees hit the edge of the mattress and I fall forward, bending at the waist over the bed. He lets go of his grip on my neck to let me fall.
