Page 125 of Horror and Chill
My cock hardens instantly, thick and demanding against the sweats. I close my eyes and imagine it’s my hand between her thighs, my mouth on her, my voice she’s whispering to. Thethought makes me grunt under my breath. I‘m torn between storming across the room and ripping the curtain back, claiming her like we both know I could, or keeping myself here in the quiet.
I make my choice slowly. My hand slips under my sweats and wraps around the length of me, tight enough to feel the blood pound. I stroke myself, every moan of hers matched by the drag of my fist. My body knows her already, even if she’s not here in front of me. The more she cries out, the rougher my strokes get, my thumb smearing precum over the head as my hips push into the movement.
She gasps, louder this time, a sound that shatters whatever patience I have left. I bite back her name, grinding my teeth. I don’t go to her though. I stay here, sitting back against her bed, stroking myself raw, waiting for the moment when she’ll come out of that bathroom flushed and damp, smelling of soap and sweat and release.
Because when she does, she won’t walk past me. Not tonight. I can’t be without her after today. Surrounded by blood and flames, I saw the gleam in her eyes. She no longer feels the weight of her childhood memories. Everything has changed.
53
Evander
The bathroom isthick with steam, hot and heavy, curling up the walls and fogging the mirror. She leans into the stream, head tipped back, eyes shut as the water rushes over her face.
The blood and sweat are gone now, but the mark of tonight still clings to her. I can see it in the way her shoulders shake, proud and unbroken but trembling under the weight of what she’s done.
At first, I think she’s just breathing hard. Then I hear it—the quiet, broken sound she makes and she presses her palms to the tile.
“Fuck,” she whispers, voice cracking under the spray. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Her shoulders curl inward, head bowed. “I hated them. I hated them so much.”
The words fall out like a confession. “I used to wish they’d die, that someone else would do it. But it was me.” She hits her chest with the flat of her hand, a dull thud drowned in the water. “It was me. And I’m—” Her voice fractures, breaking into sobsthat echo off the walls. “I’m glad they’re gone. I’m glad. What does that make me?”
I step closer and wrap my arms around her from behind. She knows it’s me without needing to turn. Her cries twist into laughter, wet and ugly. “Am I a monster, Evander?”
“Hey.” My voice comes out low, steady. “Look at me.” I guide her body so she’s facing me. She shakes her head, hands covering her face. I take them gently, prying her fingers away so I can see her eyes—red, swollen, terrified. “You survived monsters,” I tell her. “That doesn’t make you one.”
She stares at me like she’s trying to decide if I mean it. Then she reaches for me, dragging me closer until our foreheads press together. The water runs between us, hot and relentless.
I wrap my arms around her, holding her against my chest as she sobs. Every tremor, every gasp feels like another layer peeling off.
When her crying finally slows, she leans back just enough to look at me. Her lips are trembling. “You shouldn’t want me right now.”
“Maybe I don’t,” I murmur, thumb brushing her jaw. “Maybe I need you.”
Her laugh is small, disbelieving. But when she leans in, I meet her halfway.
The kiss starts soft, but then she tilts her head and I feel the shift, the grief still there, burning under the surface, but transforming into something else. Her hands find my abdomen, fingers shaking as they trace the lines of my stomach.
I pull her close, feeling the piercings against my palm, the cold metal a jolt against heat. She gasps into my mouth when my thumb rolls over it, when I tug gently just to hear that sound again.
“Sensitive?” I murmur, though I already know the answer.
I roll the barbell between my fingers slowly, teasing, pulling until the skin tightens and her back arches. She bites her lip, eyes flicking up to mine with that look that dares me to go further.
My other hand slides to her other breast, thumb pressing down on the matching piercing. I rub in small circles, letting the twin points of metal scrape under my touch. She moans, and it shoots straight through me.
I drop to my knees in front of her. Her skin is slick under my palms, the water running down her thighs as I hook her leg over my shoulder and bury my mouth where she needs me most. I tug at her VCH with my teeth and she stiffens. That soft gasp, high and trembling, like she can’t believe I’d worship her this way—it’s the kind of sound that lives under your skin.
I eat her like she’s the last thing I’ll ever taste, tongue circling her piercing, sucking slowly and then fast just to feel her buck against me. She fists her hands in my hair, tugging, and every pull only makes me hungrier. The noise she lets slip—half moan, half broken plea—bounces off the tile, echoes in my chest.
And fuck, it undoes me. I grip my cock with one hand, jerking myself slow and hard while I devour her, because nothing hits like knowing she’s coming apart for one of us. Her leg trembles against my shoulder, her hips grind against my mouth, and I know she’s close. I want to be the one who drags her over, who keeps her there until she can’t even stand.
She gasps again, louder, wetter, and I swallow the sound like it belongs to me. My chest is tight, my cock throbs in my fist, and all I can think is no matter how much she takes from me, it’ll never be enough.
Her body tightens against me, thighs trembling around my head, and then she breaks with a cry that ricochets off the tile. It’s sharp and helpless, the kind of sound that tells me she’s gone. I hold her there, tongue working her clit, sucking harduntil she jerks and shudders, until her nails drag across my scalp and she’s trying to push me back because it’s too much.
I don’t stop until I feel her slump against the wall, chest heaving, water streaming down her face like tears that aren’t there. I rise slowly, kissing my way up her stomach, across her collarbone, until I catch her mouth with mine. She tastes like steam and salt and victory, and when she kisses me back, it feels like she’s giving me more than just her lips.
“Good girl,” I murmur against her mouth before reaching past her to shut the water off. The room goes quiet except for her breathing. I grab the towel from the hook, wrap it tight around her, and lift her off her feet like she weighs nothing. She leans her damp head against my shoulder, eyes half-closed, still dazed from the high I dragged out of her.
