Page 29 of Strangled
“Please,” I plead, my voice cracking.
“Hmm,” he hums. “I happen to enjoy my friends on you. I like thattheylike you.” Lips press against my nape. I shiver, though I buck against his hold again.
“Just fucking get it off of me. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“I thought you liked them, since you moved into my house. They’re everywhere. You can’t escape them.”
“As long as they don’t touch me, I’m fine.” I’m breathless now. The crawling has stopped, and now it’s just a tickle as the spider sits on my clavicle.
“You’ll get used to it,” he tells me right before he sinks his teeth into my shoulder. I cry out, instantly forgetting about the arachnid on me.
All that matters is him touching me like this.
“T-tell me your name,” I mumble, my head lolling to the side as he nips and sucks his way up my neck until his teeth graze the shell of my ear. My scalp prickles in ecstasy.
For seconds—minutes—it’s just him and I and our breaths.
“Lucian,” he finally rumbles. I peel my eyelids open, my gaze instantly falling to the web-covered wall. I try to pry myself out ofLucian’sgrip, but he only squeezes tighter. His hand slides down my stomach, his touch brutal and demanding as he shoves his way inside my pants.
My eyes drop to my crotch, watching as the leather stretches over his broad knuckles as he wraps his fingers around my soft dick. I gasp and arch into his grip, my head falling back onto his shoulder.
He leans into my touch, his body curving around mine. From his posture alone, I can tell he’s taller than me. It makes me feel small, like his body is a fortress protecting what’s his.
Lucian makes a fist around my shaft. He squeezes me so fucking tight, purposefully scraping his nail along the cut on my dick. I cry out, and my dick pulses as blood rushes to it.
“Lucian Marius,” I stutter. His thumb digs into the V in my hip.
“Mmm.”
“S-so, it w-was your parents who died.” My thoughts are jumbled. I’m trying to make sense of this—of him—but all I’m finding that matters is that he never stops fucking touching me again.
“They made me who I am, and now they’re one within,” he whispers into my ear. His teeth skate along the delicate flesh before his tongue delves inside.
“Fuck,” I gasp, writhing in his hold. It couldn’t possibly get any tighter—but it does.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
Nothing makes sense anymore.
And I don’t fucking care.
* * *
Never in my life have I felt anything to this magnitude. My ears ring from the powerful rush of blood surging through my veins. Every last drop rushes to my cock, filled to the point long past pain.
I press my fingers gently into his clavicle, encouraging my friend to transfer to my hand. He abides and crawls down my wrist, extending up my forearm. Holding my arm by Lyken’s side, I take a step forward, forcing him to move with me.
His body locks up. He raises his head from where it rests on my shoulders. I canfeelit the moment his eyes come into contact with the web across the wall opposite of my window. It’s nearly dusk now—the night having been long yet pleasantly momentous.
I can’t wait for him to see it in the light of day, when the rays of sun filtering in through the cloudy window beam across their silk just right. It almost sparkles, and if there happens to be droplets of water from one of the holes in the roof, it truly does.
It’s an ethereal sight, one I want to watch every single morning with him until the end.
“Don’t fight it. They won’t hurt you.” I purse my lips, my eyes flicking down to the arachnid crawling along my mutilated forearm. My friends don’t mind my scars. In fact, it seems they like the endless grooves—like they’re a new place to explore.
It makes me feel wanted.
Forcing down the sudden lump in my throat, I keep my voice quiet as I breathe into his ear. His skin is so soft and smells of sweat and grime. “Well, they do sometimes.”
