Page 45 of Lovely Violent Things

It feels like dying.

I fall forward on the bed, my arm stretched out as I curl my fingers into the coarse sheet. My hips thrust against the bed, my fingers slick with my arousal, my back rising and falling as I bear down to drive the throbbing ache deeper and latch on to that sweet, edging explosion teasing every cell of my body.

Euphoria singes the edges until the fire envelops me, and I go up in flames.

Kallum bares his teeth, every muscle clenched. The rock of his hips increases, his muscles flexed taut. He never touches himself as he thrusts his hips in crazed frenzy, his stomach muscles contracted, his cock so fucking hard I can feel the hot pulse of it against my inner walls as he relinquishes a groan, and a thick ribbon of ejaculate spurts forth, the erotic sight taking me right over the edge with him.

I’m ravished in his embrace, dragging in clipped breaths to fill my burning lungs, my body balancing on a razor-sharp edge as I slowly come down. I haven’t taken my eyes off him, and I watch him now, caught in the mesmerizing way Kallum releases the doorframe, his shoulders and chest rising with each furious inhalation.

He wets his lips, then glances at the floor with a defiant smirk curving his mouth, as if stating I allowed him to cross the threshold, after all.

Drawing up to my knees, I grab my shirt and fling it to the floor to cover the mess. I hold his stare, draining my remaining strength to keep Kallum from entering.

The lowplinkof rain fills the tense silence, the storm weakening.

Without a word, he leans in and grabs the side of the door.

I hold my breath until the door clicks closed.

I curl into the sheets, my breathing still tearing at my chest, my mental state questionable, and reach for the pendant at my neck for comfort, only to remember it’s no longer there.

I’m not sure what scares me more: How far I’m allowing Kallum inside me, or like the missing diamond at my neck, the guilt I no longer feel.

A stolen moment in the dark, a moment where I offered Kallum a part of me, and he didn’t just accept a piece—he reached right inside and stole all of me.

There’s no escape now.

I’m drawn to his negative space, the desire to touch the darkest part of him too seductive despite the beautiful flame I know will burn me to cinder.

Kallum is my dark zone.

10

CONJUNCTION

KALLUM

As dusk settles over the town, I spin the silver ring around my thumb one…two…three times.

It’s an impulse more than a compulsion, the desire to feel complete, whole. As everything that comes in threes is perfect in its entirety.

Omne trium perfectum.

A truth I’ve believed without fail until my sexy little sprite.

There is no number that would equate complete and utter satisfaction when it comes to Halen. I can twist my ring into infinity and I’d still be left craving more.

As evident in last night’s torture session.

Oh, but what sweet, delicious pain.

Whatever self-control I drew on to leave her room was the damn willpower of the gods. She made me a feral beast, dangerously close to breaking my word and taking her over and over until we were both ruined in perfect, fucking depraved bliss.

The image of her spread wide, touching herself, hair as wild as her lust as she gave in to our passion is seared into my damned soul. I would have traded whatever remains of that soul to the devil himself to taste her in that moment.

But as she held me trapped in the intensity of her gaze, invoking a power only she can wield, I was goddamn subservient to her every command. I once told Halen she had no idea how much power she possessed, and last night, she peeled back a corner of her arsenal.

Now, the yearning to see her completely unleashed is clawing at my cartilage and flesh from the inside.

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