Page 52 of Pretty Black

I lost it.

Utterly and completely.

He didn’t even have to move my brain, so blissed out on the joy in him. But he did, fucking himself on me, coaxing and encouraging my orgasm, riding me through it. I opened my eyes to find him grinning.

“Fuck, that was intense.”

“Good.” He lifted, and I whimpered at the loss of being inside him, but the feeling quickly eased as he pressed his tip between my lips. “Swallow me. I want to come down your throat.”

SEVENTEEN

PRESENT DAY

Iris Black

As soon as I saw them, I knew. I pulled my knees into my chest and let them walk over to the bench where I sat.

“I’m sorry,” River said as he slipped an arm around me.

“I promised to give you hugs for him, so you’re going to have to deal with a ton of them. Can’t disappoint Caspian.” Lowe sat on my other side, squeezing.

“Thank you.” I closed my eyes and pressed my face into my knees, trying to take the comfort. It was nice, but it wasn’t my fucking boyfriend.

Two Years Ago

Japan

Why was I doing this?

The question played over and over in my thoughts. I wasn’t happy anymore. I was miserable. I did all the things I usually did to make myself numb, and none of them worked. I moved in slow motion through my life, unable to touch any of it but feeling all of it. I was outside my body and a shell.

I mourned the loss of us as much as the loss of my brother. As much as the life I’d never have and the happiness that slipped through my fingers.

Part of me thought I’d died. Or wished I would to end this fucking cycle of gray.

I needed a drink.

I had a drink.

I sat in another hotel room in another city and stared at a wall.

I was alone.

I was always alone.

And it was all my fault.

I picked up my phone and stared at the lock screen. I had three hundred-some-odd notifications, and I could put money on none of them being from Cas. I tossed the phone on the bed and then laid back. There were cracks in the ceiling. Time passed, and I couldn’t feel it. I barely got through my days anymore. I had stopped taking my pills for good, so tired of being numb, but it left me reeling, riding lows into deep depression. I barely got out of bed. I only showed when forced, and I don’t even think I packed a bag for Japan.

The only peace I knew came in finding something to get high with or hurting myself, but both I had to do in moderation on the worst days because if the scars or track marks got too noticeable, the fans would talk, and Alexander would keep a tighter grip on my freedom.

My phone was back in my hand. I pulled open my messages with Cas. He’d messaged me. More than once, and I’d never replied.

I didn’t remember reading them.

I missed him.

It didn’t make it easier to forgive him or trust him. But the profound ache in my chest reminded me home was a myth.

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