Page 94 of My Lovely Tragedy
Tobias, on top of me. Everywhere and still not enough. The burning ache of his cock against mine. Pressure and friction unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
His mouth, biting and sucking and bruising. Marking me and claiming me.
Giving me everything I need. Blood and pain and hunger.
My skin tingling, crawling like it was trying to rip itself apart. The drugging flood of fire, wax melting and dripping. The freefall and then the plunge.
Nothing had ever felt so damning, so… righteous.
“Everything about you is entertaining. But it runs far deeper than that, and you know it. Don’t twist the truth to fit your prerogative.”
“Twist the—” My face scrunches up even as my jaw falls slack, nearly hitting the water at his fuckingaudacity.
“You’re fucking kidding me, right.”Not a question.
“Why would I joke of such a thing?” His fingers scrape along his pelvis, dragging beneath the elastic band. I follow their path reverently, even amidst my offense. Watch contentiously as he eases the material down, over his thick, hairy thighs, where they fall to the floor below. And I’m only mildly ashamed to admit to myself that I check him out.
I mean… his junk is literally right in front of me. It only makes sense.
He’s soft—which doesn’t surprise me. I am too, even if my junk is starting to throb in rhythm with my arms.
His dick hangs against his thigh, smooth and uncut. The base is surrounded by a thatch of dark hair, once trimmed but now growing untamed. Wild and unruly, such is us.
And then, Tobias is moving, stepping into the tub. His legs settle into the water beside me, urging my own closer together to make room for him. It’s a tight fit but comfortable when he presses against my chest, and I fall back against his.
He drags a cloth over my torso, a slow draw of heat—and then its retreat. My head rolls before settling against his left pec. “I think I hate you,” I say softly, the words just coming out. I nearly tense but hold it back—only barely.
Tobias remains quiet for a long time. He just keeps dragging the cloth over my body. Up my arms and gently washing the blood from my skin. Erasing last night. His actions and their result.
But he can’t because I wear the stains of his decisions over my body. And I will for the rest of my life.
I don’t hate that thought as much as I should.
And I don’t think I hate him either.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” he says after a while, once the water is stained pink and my arms hurt worse than before.
“You don’t think I do already?” His inhale raises my body. I fall with his exhale.
“No.”
“I should.”
“Yes, you should.”
His arms lift from my sides, and I listen to the softplinksof water dripping and hitting the surface. And then, the key rattles against the chain. My breath catches in my throat, and when silver glints in my peripheral, my heart stops beating, too.
Tobias grabs my right arm and lifts it to my chest, keeping my cuts away from the water. Gentle, even in his sadism.
He grabs the padlock and flips it so the bottom is facing us. His hands tremble, fingers slipping against the metal and nearly dropping it. I feel a puff of breath hit the side of my neck, just as unsteady as his hands.
My heart beats a racket against my sternum, flooding my ears with the sound of it. Loud and chugging. Like ocean waves crashing against my brain.
He’s going to let me go. Release me from my chains.
Give me my freedom back. My autonomy.
The key slides into the keyhole, and my whole world stops turning.
